Round 102

The forest seemed to hold its breath as they pressed deeper into the corrupted woods. Every step felt wrong, like walking through a dream that was slowly curdling around them. Merrin's hand tightened on her dagger, the familiar weight offering little comfort against the oppressive silence. "What is this place?" she hissed, more to herself than to Varrika beside her. The dwarf woman said nothing, her face set in a grim mask of concentration, every muscle tense and ready for action despite the exhaustion evident in the set of her shoulders.

The ground beneath their feet felt unstable, as though the very earth was shifting and settling underfoot with each step they took. Every rustle of leaves sounded like whispered threats, every shadow seemed to watch their passage with malevolent intent. The trees seemed to close ranks around them, branches reaching out like grasping fingers as they pressed deeper into the darkness between the trunks.

Merrin felt her skin prickle with unease, the familiar weight of her dagger reassuring in her hand even as she scanned the darkness between the trunks. "It's like the forest itself is alive," she continued, voice barely above a whisper. "Watching us." Varrika said nothing, but her grip on Merrin’s arm tightened fractionally—enough to acknowledge the words without needing speech.

The air grew thicker with each step, heavy and sweet like rotting fruit. Something moved in the shadows ahead, something large and slow that seemed to absorb what little light filtered through the canopy instead of reflecting it. Merrin's heart hammered in her chest, but she kept her grip on her weapon sure and steady. Whatever waited in the darkness ahead, they would face it together.