As they pushed deeper into the wilderness toward Caelgor the Hollow, the air grew heavy with unease. Lucy felt it tighten around the group like an invisible noose. No one said anything, but their movements grew stiffer, and glances became more frequent. Even the silence had teeth.
The terrain had changed.
Gone was the rough stone road that led east—solid, predictable, familiar. In its place, a strange forest had swallowed the world.
Towering bone-white trees loomed above, their trunks as smooth as polished ivory. Their translucent leaves shimmered faintly, catching what little light pierced through the mist in glints of violet and silver. The ground was carpeted with soft, silken grass the color of moonlight, and each step felt like walking across a dream—or a graveyard.
Then came the sounds—not the rustle of animals or wind, but distant, warped echoes—like laughter heard underwater or breathing just out of sight.
