The deepening dusk transformed Ashenfen into an endless expanse of shadow and silence. The forest seemed alive in the half-light, with whispers of movement hidden behind the curtain of trees and the soft rustle of leaves brushing against one another. Luke and Ilyrana pressed forward, their steps crunching over fallen twigs and leaves. The last vestiges of daylight had already vanished, and the dense canopy above them ensured that even the bright, cold light of the moon struggled to pierce through.
Luke flicked open a hidden latch on his sleeve and activated his fire mechanism, creating a narrow, controlled flame that he used to ignite a bundle of twigs. The makeshift torch sputtered to life, casting a circle of flickering light that pushed back the pressing darkness and revealed the twisted roots and uneven ground beneath their feet. The fire's glow painted their faces warmly, accentuating their eyes' wary determination.
