The journey toward Kal'Thalos stretched on, a grim silence settling over the group. The forest had grown denser and darker, as if nature itself recoiled from the presence of the Heart of Thalor. Twisted trees clawed at the sky, their bark blackened and gnarled, while the undergrowth seemed to whisper with unseen dangers. Elara led the way, her mind heavy with the burden of the Heart's power, which hummed faintly within her.
Morgana walked beside her, her staff glowing dimly, as if the light itself was being drained by the oppressive atmosphere. She kept glancing at Elara, concern etched on her face. "You've been quiet since the ruins," she finally said, her voice soft but probing.
Elara didn't respond immediately. She had been quiet because she didn't trust her own thoughts, not with the Heart still whispering in her mind. Its voice was quieter now, but it was there, always pulling, tempting. "I'm just focused," she replied, though it wasn't the full truth.
