Secrets tonight permeated the jungle. The ancient trees murmured tales older than time itself under a sky darkened by the silver brightness of a full moon. Their twisted limbs moved in a wind carrying the echo of previous betrayals as well as a promise of rejuvenation. I went carefully down a small, meandering road, the gentle crunch of fallen leaves under my boots combining with the faint, spooky murmuring that seemed to radiate from every direction.
The Crescent Mark on my arm pulsed continuously, a beacon of strength and burden combined, encouraging me ahead as if it alone understood the secret truth buried deep inside these trees.
I could sense it: a presence that was neither friend nor adversary, but something far older and more mysterious—a power that had watched over the Crescent Bloodline for millennia. Tonight, that energy spoke to me in delicate, almost regretful murmurs, bearing remnants of voices that could have previously belonged to my forefathers.
