They traveled for days.
The forest had grown too vast for time to measure properly. The sun, still hidden beyond the layers of ancient canopy, offered no guidance. Day bled into night with no transition, and night bled back into day just as quietly.
But they moved forward.
One step at a time.
The Forsaken Forest was wide—thousands of miles, and more. The land warped with old magic, folding and stretching as it pleased. Sometimes they crossed paths they swore they had never seen, only to find markers from days before.
No beasts attacked them.
No whispers haunted them.
Only the forest itself remained—a living maze of towering trees, glowing moss, and mist that clung to their boots like fog from a dream.
Kaelred broke the silence once or twice.
"So," he muttered after one long stretch, "are we sure this isn't just a very elaborate death march?"
No one answered.
Not because they disagreed.
But because the truth was uncertain.
