As Alaric and Gilbert moved deeper into the dense, foreboding forest, the oppressive atmosphere seemed to intensify. The trees loomed closer, their twisted branches like skeletal fingers reaching out to ensnare them. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, the only sounds being their footsteps and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush. It was as if the forest itself was alive, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Alaric, his aura still simmering just beneath the surface, kept his senses sharp, alert to any potential threats. The path ahead was uncertain, and every step forward felt like a step deeper into the unknown. Gilbert walked beside him, his own aura flickering sporadically, as if the weight of the forest was pressing down on him.
Suddenly, Gilbert broke the silence, his voice low but clear. "Alaric, we should call our familiars."
Alaric glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Why now?"
