The basin did not welcome them gently.
Arios felt it the moment their boots sank into the moss-padded earth at the basin's edge—a shift in the air, subtle but undeniable, as though the island itself had inhaled deeply and now held its breath.
The three of them moved in careful formation: Arios at the front, Lucy watching their flank with her sharp, analytic eyes, and Liza behind them, ears twitching faintly at every distant sound. The greenery here was thicker, denser, saturated with a humidity that clung to the skin and made every breath feel warm and heavy. Light filtered strangely, as if bent; patches of brightness shimmered in places where no sunlight should reach.
And the quiet…
The quiet was wrong.
Not peaceful—expectant.
Arios knelt, brushing his fingers along a patch of ground. The soil was soft but disturbed, lines running through it in a curved pattern. Liza leaned over him, her voice soft.
"A trail? Or something dragged?"
