The journey to the spire was not merely a walk through nature, but a plunge into the heart of ancient mysteries that the island had jealously guarded for millennia. The dense canopy above formed a dark tapestry, woven with threads of mist that danced around us like spectral entities. The path underfoot, slick with moss and fallen leaves, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, as if the very ground knew of our trespass and whispered secrets in a language lost to time.
Raijuu, our steadfast guide, led with cautious steps, his senses finely tuned to the slightest disturbances. His occasional growls punctuated the silence, serving as grim reminders of the dangers that lurked just beyond sight. Kijin, always ready for combat, maintained a shimmering barrier around her hands, casting ghostly lights onto the forest floor. Tenko's camera captured every eerie detail, her lens focusing on phenomena that our eyes alone might have missed.
