...strength he so desperately sought. Each step deeper into the forest brought with it a sense of foreboding. The faint cries of distant beasts echoed through the trees, and the oppressive atmosphere seemed to claw at his resolve.
Gray kept a safe distance, his dark eyes locked on Jackson. Every movement the youth made was calculated, almost as if he had walked this path a hundred times before. It intrigued Gray—what kind of confidence could someone so weak possess in a place like this?
Jackson came to a halt near a twisted, ancient tree, its gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal arms. He knelt and placed his hand on its bark, closing his eyes as if listening to the forest itself. Gray frowned, his curiosity piqued.
The silence was broken by a faint rustle. Gray's grip on his rusty dagger tightened instinctively, his body tensing as he scanned the surroundings.
"Who's there?" Jackson's voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to it.
