The forest swallowed them whole, the towering pines weaving a canopy that let only slivers of moonlight bleed through. The light stone in Taryn's hand cast just enough light to keep the twisted roots and uneven ground visible, but the shadows seemed alive, shifting and stretching in eerie patterns. Each step echoed too loud in the oppressive quiet, the crunch of leaves and snap of twigs like warnings in the dark.
Taryn tightened her grip, her other hand resting on the hilt of her dagger. The tension from Lucien's earlier confession clung to the air between them, unspoken but suffocating.
She broke the silence first, her voice low and edged with unease. "We should've stayed in the tower a bit longer."
