The Path of Ancients
The group departed at first light, leaving the Crimson Fang packhouse behind as the rising sun turned the misty horizon into a golden haze. Isla led the way, her silver eyes fixed ahead, her heart heavy with determination. The dense forest soon gave way to jagged terrain, the air thick with an otherworldly stillness.
Draven’s amber eyes swept their surroundings, his tension palpable. “This place feels… wrong,” he muttered, his voice cutting through the silence.
Alaric, walking slightly ahead, glanced back. “It’s not wrong,” he said, his golden gaze fixed on the path ahead. “It’s ancient. These lands are tied to the Moon Goddess. They’re testing us.”
The wind picked up suddenly, a sharp breeze carrying indistinct whispers. Isla froze mid-step, her breath catching as the whispers grew louder, almost forming words. Then, one voice stood out—a voice that felt unnervingly familiar.
“Come, child,” it beckoned, low and echoing. “The truth awaits.”
Isla’s hand moved instinctively to her belly, her pulse racing. “Did you hear that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Draven and Alaric exchanged wary glances. “Hear what?” Draven asked, his claws flexing at his sides.
Her eyes darted to the trees, now swaying as if alive. The whispers intensified, and the ground trembled slightly under their feet. Before them, the dense forest seemed to part, revealing a narrow, twisting path shrouded in shadow.
Draven growled, his body tense. “This isn’t natural.”
“It’s calling me,” Isla murmured, stepping toward the path, her silver hair glowing faintly in the dim light.
Draven reached for her arm. “This could lead us straight into danger.”
“Or to answers,” she replied, her voice resolute. She pulled free, her steps deliberate. “We have no choice.”
The chapter ended as Isla stepped onto the shadowed path, the whispers fading into silence. “Follow me,” she said, her voice both a command and a plea.
“I always do,” Draven answered.
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