The dense, twilight-hued trees of Bianzion loomed over Alexander and his company like silent sentinels, their ancient trunks twisting toward the sky in grotesque formations.
The air was thick with the scent of damp moss, faintly laced with something acrid, something unnatural.
At first, the expedition had been filled with a sense of excitement and purpose, to capture a mighty beast worthy of a prince.
A war pet, one that could serve as a symbol of strength for the Vancial bloodline. But as they ventured deeper into the forest, reality twisted.
Time became an illusion, the days melting into nights without transition. The sun never fully rose nor fully set, leaving the forest bathed in an eerie half-light.
Shadows moved where they shouldn't have, creeping along the undergrowth like living creatures. A terrible hunger gnawed at their stomachs.
