The forest was silent as Taryn and Kah'el moved along the trails.
Taryn moved cautiously, her dagger balanced in her palm as she stepped around the gnarled roots of an old oak. The air was thick, wrong. She didn't trust it. The cold morning had given way to an eerie stillness, the usual distant calls of birds and rustling undergrowth absent.
She exchanged a glance with Kah'el, who was a few paces ahead, his posture rigid, his twin blades drawn. His green eyes flicked toward the trees, scanning. The tension in his shoulders said everything. He felt it too.
Something wasn't right.
Taryn exhaled slowly through her nose. The cult was moving. Watching. She could feel their eyes on her.
They were being herded.
Kah'el must have come to the same conclusion because his voice was a low murmur. "They're waiting for us to go further in."
Taryn tightened her grip on her dagger. "Then we don't."
But it was already too late.