The Forbidden Forest didn't let go of us easily. It was as if the ancient trees, sensing the death of the world outside their borders, were trying to pull us back into the emerald safety of the deep green. But as we crossed the threshold—the invisible line where the moss gave way to cracked asphalt and the birdsong was replaced by the low, industrial hum of a civilization on life support—the change was physical.
The air felt thin, artificial, and filtered. I could feel the natural magic of the earth receding, pulling back into the roots as if the steel and concrete of the human capital were a slow-acting poison. My internal compass, usually guided by the ley lines of the planet, began to spin wildly.
Killian walked beside me, his hood pulled low to hide the golden intensity of his eyes
