The forest was quieter than it should have been.
No insects sang. No leaves whispered in the breeze. The only sounds were the muffled thud of boots against damp soil and the faint creak of leather straps. The moon filtered through twisted branches, silvering the trail ahead and throwing long, crooked shadows that seemed to move when no one did.
Lior's hand hovered near his blade, every step measured. The others followed in a loose line — Elyra at the front with her bow lowered but ready, Kael somewhere behind muttering under his breath, and Ryn bringing up the rear with a scowl that had deepened over the last few hours.
They hadn't spoken much since leaving the last camp. Not after what happened with the scout.
Elyra's sharp eyes kept flicking to Lior, and each time he caught her glance, she looked away too quickly. Kael avoided eye contact altogether, fussing with his satchel straps instead. Ryn's gaze, however, was blatant — suspicion plain in the way he watched Lior's every move.
The System's faint hum under Lior's skin seemed louder tonight, as if it sensed the tension. He could feel an alert hovering in the back of his mind, unread, but he didn't dare open it. Not here. Not while the others already doubted him.
A twig snapped somewhere to their left.
Everyone froze. Elyra's bow came up, Kael's hand dipped into his bag, Ryn's grip tightened on his spear. The darkness between the trees felt thicker now, oppressive.
Then came the sound — a low, wet growl, too deep to belong to any normal beast.
"Form up," Elyra whispered, her voice taut. "We're not alone."
And somewhere deep in the shadows, two faint green lights blinked open.