The forest closed in around them as they moved deeper into its heart. Tall, ancient trees with gnarled roots stretched skyward, their thick canopies blotting out the sun, casting the group into an eerie twilight. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant call of a bird. Each step they took seemed to echo louder than the last, as if the forest itself was listening, waiting for something.
Elara led the way, her senses heightened by the lingering effects of the Heartstone's power. She could feel the weight of the stone against her chest, its warmth a constant reminder of the responsibility she bore. The encounter with the Weavers had left her shaken, but she knew they had no choice but to press on. Every delay, every hesitation, brought them closer to the inevitable confrontation they all dreaded.
