Blackscale Grove loomed before them like a beast made of shadows and twisted wood. The trees towered, ancient and foreboding, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal arms. This place wasn't just a forest—it was alive with malevolent energy, pulsing with corruption and danger.
Pyris and Alera stood at the entrance, the wind rustling the leaves in a way that made them seem like they were whispering secrets.
"Three days," Pyris said, his voice steady. "We'll train, fight, and survive for three days. No returning until we've made progress."
Alera nodded, her face set in determination. Since joining Pyris, she had grown stronger but still struggled with controlling her shadows. She could feel the Grove's energy pulling at them, tempting them to run wild. The thought unnerved her, but Pyris's presence gave her comfort.
He had a way of making the impossible seem attainable.
