The forest groaned as they stepped across its threshold.

Not groaning like wind through old trees—this was different. The sound had weight, as though the land itself protested their presence. Trees twisted in unnatural shapes, gnarled like knuckles clenched in anger. Vines hung from blackened branches like nooses. Even the air was wrong—too thick, too still, laced with the bitter tang of burnt herbs and blood.

They had found the Shadowroot.

“Stay close,” Aria said, her voice low but ...