Where once the trees whispered with distorted voices, leading travelers astray in endless labyrinths, now an almost oppressive calm reigned. The branches, which once intertwined like claws ready to capture, stood still, as if bowing their heads in silent reverence.
Vergil walked ahead, his steps firm and unhurried. Behind him, his women followed in a peculiar procession, each with their own expression—distrust, curiosity, expectation. The trail they left was one of pure authority: no beast, spirit, or shadow dared cross their path.
Selene's house loomed among the trees. A discreet refuge, made of wood and stone, yet exuding an aura of ancient power. Hanging lamps glowed softly, illuminating the surrounding space like miniature stars.
Selene was already at the door when they approached. Her long, silver hair gleamed in the soft light; Her normally serene eyes widened as they landed on Vergil.
