The storm persisted, relentless in its fury, as Elara and her companions pressed forward. The forest seemed to close in around them, the trees twisted and gnarled, their branches clawing at the air like the hands of forgotten spirits. Every step was a struggle against the howling wind and driving rain, but the group remained resolute, their determination unshaken.
Elara held the pouch close, feeling the seed within it shift with every movement. The figure's cryptic words echoed in her mind, stirring a mixture of curiosity and unease. What power did this seed hold? And what would it demand of them when the time came to use it?
"We need to find higher ground," Thorne called out, his voice barely audible over the storm. "The rain's turning this forest into a swamp, and we'll be mired if we're not careful."
