There was a deep silence after Damon spoke.
The Whispering Forest.
Of all the options before them, it was the worst. If they went there, death would be a mercy. They could be turned into one of the horrors that lurked in its depths—cursed, or worse. And yes, something worse could happen to them. Ancient ruins were horrible places.
Matlock shook his head, tears dripping down his face.
"We can't... we just can't…"
Damon punched him straight in the face.
Matlock let out a delicate yelp as he crumpled to the floor, clutching his nose in shock.
"Our odds are slim," Damon said, his voice cold. "But anywhere else is absolute death. We don't stand a chance—a group of weak students."
He gritted his teeth. His dark eyes burned with something unreadable.
"Our odds are less than three percent." He chuckled bitterly.