As Zixuan stepped into the deeper grove, the light dimmed unnaturally fast—like dusk folding over the world before it was time. Each footfall was muffled by damp earth and brittle leaves, but the silence was not comforting. It was watchful. Even the trees bent inward, twisted into unfamiliar shapes, as though trying to keep something in rather than protect something out.
The path narrowed, barely enough for one person, winding like a scar between roots that pulsed faintly beneath his feet. The tether in his chest tugged harder now, as if some unseen thread were leading him—not with clarity, but with desperate insistence.
He followed.
