The forest was unusually quiet.
No wind.
No growls.
No rustling leaves.
Just the steady rhythm of Aamir's boots sinking softly into moss.
Spark padded beside him, the little beast's tail flicking side to side. His glowing scales shimmered faintly, pulsing with each breath. He was alert—ears twitching, nostrils sniffing the damp air.
Aamir glanced around, unease creeping in.
"This place feels different today."
His voice was low, more to himself than Spark. The air felt heavier. Almost like the forest was holding its breath.
Spark chirped in quiet agreement.
Aamir slowed his pace, letting his senses guide him. It wasn't just the quiet. It was the kind of quiet that felt placed, like something had asked the wind and the animals to hush.
"Every time I get used to this dungeon, it throws something new at me," he muttered under his breath.
He glanced at the trees—they looked the same as always, tall and ancient—but somehow they felt like they were watching him.
