The three of them moved deeper into the forest of deadwood.
Here, silence wasn't just the absence of sound—it was a presence in itself, heavy and complete, pressing against the ears. The air smelled of rot and minerals, dry as bone dust.
Luciel walked ahead, his senses stretched outward like invisible threads, brushing against bark, soil, and faint tremors of energy. No signs of life. Not a rustle, not a breath.
He slowed his pace and spoke without turning. "Earlier, you said the reason these trees died is one of your adventure hunters' goals?"
"Yes." Alina's voice was soft, almost reverent. "It's one of the greatest mysteries. Many legendary hunters have tried to find out why the Deadwood exists."
Luciel tilted his head. "And have they found anything?"
She hesitated, biting her lip. "Nothing certain. Some think it's the rain—the acid rain that falls from the sky. No one can investigate further."
