The Emberheart Grove was a sight unlike any other—a forest of trees with blazing orange and red leaves that shimmered like fire. Their bark emitted a faint warmth, and the very air was alive with a gentle hum, as if the grove itself were breathing. Victor crouched near one of the Emberheart Trees, carefully planting the last of the precious seeds. The ground was soft, and the act of planting felt strangely calming despite the growing tension in the air.
"This should be the last one," Victor said, brushing his hands on his tunic and standing.
Elara, her staff aglow with a faint icy-blue light, walked up beside him. "Good. The grove needs to heal, but something feels... off," she murmured, her brows furrowing.
Lyra, always the vigilant protector, stood nearby with her shield raised. She scanned the horizon, her emerald eyes sharp. "I don't like this silence. It's too quiet. Where are the usual sounds? The birds, the insects?"
