The forest was dying.
Where vibrant life once thrived, only a sickly parody remained. The sun struggled to break through the thick canopy, casting the forest floor in a perpetual gloom. It wasn't just darkness; it felt like decay itself, heavy and suffocating. An unnatural silence hung in the air – no birds sang, leaves didn't rustle, and insects were absent.
Animals intuitively avoided this place. Even the trees looked withered, their leaves brittle and brown. Something was terribly wrong.
A sharp coppery smell, the metallic tang of blood, cut through the stillness. Killian's nostril flared. He raised a hand, halting his soldiers' advance. "I will be going ahead alone!" his voice rang out, crisp and commanding. "You all stand by!"
