The night was cloaked in silence, broken only by the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs. Richie and Sarah moved through the dense forest, their footsteps barely audible over the rustling leaves. They kept a relentless pace, driven by the urgency of their mission and the haunting memory of Mark's sacrifice.
The forest seemed to close in around them, the darkness oppressive and suffocating. Richie guided them forward, his flashlight cutting a narrow path through the gloom, while Sarah stayed close behind, her thoughts a turbulent mix of grief and determination. The artifact in her backpack pulsed faintly, a reminder of the power they were up against.
By dawn, they reached the outskirts of a small, forgotten town. The buildings were dilapidated, overgrown with ivy and moss, the streets silent and empty. Richie and Sarah took shelter in an abandoned house, its windows shattered and its walls crumbling. They needed to rest, to plan their next move.
