The night pressed down on them like a living weight. The forest itself felt wrong, too quiet, too watchful, as though every branch held its breath and every patch of darkness concealed a pair of eyes. Elena could almost taste the dread in the air, metallic and cold on her tongue, settling into her bones like winter frost.
She pulled her knees closer to her chest, the small fire crackling weakly in front of her. Michael had managed to build it with trembling hands, but it was barely enough to fight back the chill. She wondered if the cold came from the weather… or if Damian’s presence had seeped into the forest, dimming the warmth of everything it touched.
Michael sat opposite her, his face carved with fatigue. His shoulders sagged, yet every line of his body remained alert, ready to reac
