The Whispering Woods did not welcome them. The trees here were ancient, their bark silvered by moonlight and their roots deep enough to touch the veins of the world. As the adrenaline of the escape began to ebb, the reality of their situation settled in like the freezing mist rolling off the mountainside.
Lyra shivered, her thin silk garments offering no protection against the biting winds of the high forest. Beside her, Lucian was a pillar of brooding silence. He moved with the grace of a predator, his eyes scanning the treeline for the silver glints of Inquisitor armor.
"We can't stay in the open," Lucian muttered, his voice cutting through the rustle of dead leaves. "The Oracle's sight is dampened by the trees, but she will be casting 'Light-Seekers.' If one of those golden wisps finds us, the entire Sun-Reach army will be on our heads within the hour."
