The cloaked figure moved through the forest like a shadow given direction.
It didn't touch the ground more than it had to branches, trunks, the occasional boulder used as a stepping point before launching forward again.
Fast and quiet, leaving nothing behind to mark its passage through the trees.
It reached the cave entrance in minutes.
Without slowing, it ducked inside and pressed deeper into the dark tunnel, passing the dim lights embedded in the rock walls until the passage opened up into the wide hidden chamber beyond.
The other demons were there, scattered in loose groups across the space.
And at the center of the chamber floor, crouched over the ground with a long dark blade in hand, was their leader.
He was carving something into the stone — slow, precise lines that connected and curved into a wide circular pattern, its shape complex enough that it clearly wasn't being made from memory alone, but from something carried much deeper than that.
