The boundary line of Venomwood wasn’t marked by stone or iron, but by the sudden, unnerving shift in the air.
As night fell, blanketed by a thick fog, Selene crossed the threshold alongside Kael, Garrick, Eryk, and two elite trackers—William and Rian—whose steps left barely a whisper on the forest floor.
Kael stopped mid-stride, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his broadsword. His posture stiffened, every muscle locked in high alert.
“What is it?” Selene whispered, her daggers already sliding into her palms with practiced ease.
“The air,” Kael muttered, his gray eyes scanning the tree canopy. “The rogues... they aren’t running wild.”
In the past, entering Venomwood meant braving chaos: unpredictable, feral beasts and disorganized marauders who relied on brute force and rand
