Alden gripped his abyssal blade tightly, drawing a silent breath.
Beads of sweat rolled down his face, his crimson eye darting rapidly through the gloom.
Around him, a forest of tall, ashen grey trees stretched, their enormous length seemingly capable of blotting out the heavens themselves. Contrary to normal trees, though, these stalwart sentinels were not full of vitality; their bark were shriveled, and there were no sign of any leaves on their withered surface.
Instead, their branches were bare and desolate.
A ghostly breeze seemed to flutter inside the forest, a strange, almost imperceptible rustling echoing throughout like the moans of a vengeful ghost. A flake of ash lazily drifted through the air, catching a small beam of light from the canopy above.
Staring at the eerie scene, Alden tried not to shiver. Even so, all the hair on his arms stood on end.
