In the dark, crimson forest, a shadow flitted with surgical precision, its movements smooth and silent, effortlessly evading the twisted roots and jagged rocks that littered the terrain. Each step was as light as a breeze, and the shadow's breathing barely stirred the air as it darted up the massive trunk of a tree, scaling it with the fluid grace of a predator.
When the shadow reached the treetop, it paused, and from within its depths, David emerged, the shadows around him dissipating like smoke in the night air. He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to scan the area, his sharp eyes narrowing as he peered into the abyss around him. But the darkness was almost impenetrable, broken only by the faint, eerie glow of the crescent moon. It hung low in the sky, casting a crimson hue over the BLIGHTED BOGS, a ghostly light that seemed to make the shadows dance and twist in unsettling ways.
