The leaves rustled with the touch of the magical breeze, and dry branches snapped under the weight of quiet footsteps. Vergil walked as if he were crossing an open field on a spring morning, not a cursed forest known for devouring even the hope of the living.
His coat swayed gently in the wind, and he whistled an ancient melody—perhaps a forgotten infernal song, perhaps just a provocation carried by instinct. The sound echoed among the trees like an offense thrown at the ancestral silence.
"Will you stop that?" Zuri hissed, coiled around his neck, her voice thin but laden with tension. The little emerald snake tightened a little more, uncomfortable. "You're literally drawing attention to us."
Vergil continued walking, his hands in his pockets, his gaze calm. A smile curved the corner of his mouth as if he were amused by the tension around him.
