The forbidden forest was unlike any place Maren had ever entered. Its trees were ancient, towering like sentinels, their trunks gnarled and blackened with time. Mist hung low and thick, curling around their feet like curious spirits. No birdsong. No wind. Just the constant hush of things watching.
Jace walked ahead, torch held high. Its flame flickered oddly — not because of wind, but something else. As if the very air resisted light.
“How much farther?” Maren whispered, her voice swallowed by the gloom.
“Another mile,” he said. “If the maps are right.”
Maren glanced around, unease prickling down her spine. “And if they’re not?”
“Then we die in here like everyone else who’s ever tried.”
He said it with no trace of fear. That worried her more.
They crossed an ancient stream, its wate
