The ground of the Black Forest at the End of the World seemed to shift beneath his feet with every step. There was a palpable unease in the air—not the kind that portends immediate danger, but that almost primal discomfort of someone treading on territory that should never have been touched.
Vergil walked with steady steps, even though the environment around him was anything but steady. The trees bent in ways that defied physical logic; their branches seemed to stretch when they weren't being watched. Some flowers opened only when he had his back turned, letting out a soft sound, almost like a sigh.
The sky was invisible. The closed canopy of black and lilac leaves blocked any hint of direction. It was like walking in the womb of something ancient, alive... and hungry.
"Are we walking in circles?" Vergil asked, without turning around, his voice more irritated than tired.
The white snake around his neck moved slightly, as if yawning—or just pretending to be lazy.
