The road to Eldermere stretched before them, cracked and half-swallowed by the wilderness. Ancient trees loomed on either side of the path, their gnarled branches reaching overhead like skeletal hands, casting shadows against the cold morning light. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and something older—something wrong.
Damien rode at the front, his steel-gray eyes scanning the road ahead. The closer they got, the quieter the world became. No birds, no insects, no wind through the trees. Just silence.
Erynn pulled her cloak tighter as her horse moved beside him. "It shouldn't be this quiet."
Carys, riding just behind them, nodded. "Even abandoned places still have life. This… this is different."
Dante exhaled sharply. "It's dead."
Amara smirked from her saddle, though there was little amusement in it. "That's the problem, isn't it? Dead things shouldn't feel like they're watching."