A group of six teenagers trudged forward under the morning sun, their clothes tattered and patched as best they could with their limited resources. Their faces were finally clean, free from the grime, soot, and blood that had covered them just days before.
They had rested by the chasm for a few days, using that time to recover, plan, and prepare for the journey ahead. What remained of the wyvern had been turned into dried rations—a rare delicacy under normal circumstances, but for them, it was simply survival. Flavor meant little when every meal could be their last.
Now, they stood before the Whispering Forest, a vast expanse of twisted trees so dense that sunlight failed to penetrate its canopy.
