They moved fast. Through tangled roots, fog-drenched trees, and whispering shadows that sometimes had eyes.
The deeper they went, the more the forest warped. Some trees breathed. Some bled. The sky never changed—it stayed that same bruised-red twilight, like time had stopped just to watch them suffer.
They didn't talk much anymore. The first wave had stripped away the nerves, the jokes, even the panic.
This was survival now.
Lucian halted after the fifth engagement.
The monsters were getting smarter.
More coordinated.
The last batch had tried to flank them with an overhead ambush—winged serpents that moved like scythes through the trees, while two burrowers attacked from below. Reia had barely dodged a spine to the throat. Silas was bleeding again. Evelyn's barrier spells were burning twice as much mana as before just to hold.
Lucian scanned the area.
They weren't going anywhere.
This place wasn't a normal gate.
