The track narrowed as the two raced side by side, shadows thickening with each step. The first region they had to face was the Whispering Willows—a place where silence itself seemed to breathe. Legends claimed that if you listened too long, the hush would unravel into murmurs, voices threading through the branches until they called your name. Answer once, and you were lost forever. Many had vanished here, swallowed by whispers no one else could hear.
Alex strode on, unaware of the snare ahead. Prince, already alert, quickened his pace the moment the willows closed around them. Alex followed, but his sharpened senses betrayed him—the voices pressed close, too close, as though spoken directly into his ear. He turned, scanning the trees, but the sound had no source, only a chorus circling inside his skull. Disoriented, he faltered, the whispers tugging at his focus.
Nonetheless, Alex forced himself across the threshold, the voices fading like smoke behind him.
