The forest grew denser as Marcus continued his journey, the path now nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding underbrush. Each step seemed to pull him deeper into the Veil of Forgotten Paths, where the very essence of time and space felt warped. The distant whispers of the wind sounded like voices—echoes of those who had walked here before, or perhaps the whispers of the past and future colliding.
His heart raced as he approached the Oracle of Time. The further he ventured, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The trees were so dense now that the moonlight barely filtered through the thick canopy. Shadows moved and shifted around him, flickering like the distorted images on a broken screen. The silence was palpable, suffocating almost.
The system's constant pings had grown quieter as well, as though it, too, was uncertain about what lay ahead.
Ding!
