At the edge of the third core, the morning air was cold but gentle.
Isaac sat on a flat rock near a crooked tree, chewing slowly on a piece of dried meat. Hopper sat beside him, using his tiny front legs to nibble on a chunk of dried fruit. Their small fire from last night had already burned out. The ashes had gone cold.
He looked up. It's too quiet.
He stood and checked his weapons. His sickles were secured on his hips. His axe, clean and sharpened, was slung across his back.
Hopper fluttered his wings once and crawled up to his shoulder.
Isaac didn't speak yet.
He just stood there for a moment, letting the silence sit.
Then finally, he said, "Let's move."
They headed into the Fourth Core.
Isaac walked in silence, each step careful but steady. The 4th Core had always been the deeper part of Dudael, a place filled with danger. That's what he remembered. But now?
It was empty.
No monsters.
No sounds.
Not even the smell of blood or decay.
Just trees. Tall and still.
