WILLOW'S POV.
The forest had gone eerily still.
Even the wind had stopped moving, like the whole world was holding its breath. I stood frozen, my dagger hanging loosely in my hand, its blade catching the faint silver of moonlight. The smell of blood was thick around me—iron and earth mixing together.
The man’s body was still pinned to the fallen branch, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes wide open and staring into nothing.
For a moment, I couldn’t feel anything. Not fear. Not guilt. Just silence ringing in my ears.
The two Obsidian Crescent warriors stood a few feet away, their faces pale, their eyes darting between the corpse and me. I could sense their unease, the way their bodies stiffened, unsure of what to do next. One of them looked at the other as if silently asking wh
