The sky never cleared over the southern hills.
This place remained silent even as the world started to stir and the stars dimmed. The trees here leaned as though they were observing, and the clouds were low and dense like smoke.
At the boundary between the grass and the mist, Riven stood.
"Forest of Balinha…"
On his tongue, even the name tasted odd.
Back in the city, people talked in whispers about this place.
A forbidden forest.
Those who entered came back changed—or didn't come back at all.
He glanced down at the faintly glowing mark on his chest.
The chain symbol burned slightly brighter than before—like it knew something he didn't.
"This place… it reeks of death. And yet… this is the only path forward?"
He stepped into the fog.
The older trees in this area were thicker, more twisted, and in some places, blackened as if they had been burned years before. The mist clung to his legs like it didn't want to let go, and roots curled out of the ground like claws.
Hours went by. Or perhaps minutes. Here, time felt off.
And then—
He heard it.
A low growl.
Not too loud. The back of his neck, however, pricked.
Slowly, he turned.
The mist was scanned by eyes.
Between trees, a shadow shifted.
Then it appeared.
A wolf.
Not your typical one, though.
Its fur was jet black—darker than the night itself.
Its eyes were pure white. No pupils. No light.
Just emptiness. And its teeth… were too long, too jagged.
It didn't growl.
It didn't leap.
It merely gazed.
As if it was thinking.
"What… is that?" Riven thought in fear.
Then it moved.
Quick.
A haze in the mist.
Riven felt the rush of air as the wolf lunged past him, its claws scraping the bark behind him, and he barely managed to duck in time.
His heart thumping, he staggered.
"It's too fast."
With a sudden turn, the wolf was already pursuing him once more.
Riven threw out his arm in desperation rather than planning out something.
The mark on his chest blazed.
And the chains answered.
They erupted from under his skin—glowing, blackened tendrils of energy shaped like twisted iron.
They didn't wait for orders.
They struck.
One chain shot past Riven's shoulder, slamming into the wolf mid-leap.
Another wrapped around its leg, dragging it mid-air and slamming it to the ground.
The beast howled.
The chains pulled tighter—devouring it.
As the wolf screamed and its body twitched violently as the chains tightened, drained, and fed, the ground shook slightly beneath them.
Riven's gaze expanded.
He sensed it.
The vitality.
Flowing into him. Not warm. Not chilly.
Simply empty.
"Am I… absorbing it?"
The chains lashed again—three, four, five times—faster than thought.
Riven jumped back instinctively, watching as the beast was lifted and smashed down again.
And then—
Silence.
He felt the chains creep back under his skin.
The beast was reduced to a blackened husk that was gradually turning to ash.
Riven stood frozen, panting.
Then the mark started to give a heat, to make Riven to snap out and move.
Riven kept walking.
Through fog.
Through dead roots.
Through whispers he wasn't sure were real.
Here, the light never changed.
Silence, cold, and mist.
However, the pull persisted. Forward at all times.
Hours went by.
His legs were scorched. His feet hurt. However, he continued.
The ground eventually sloped downward and the trees started to thin out a little.
A tiny cave mouth was concealed there, surrounded by thick moss and stones.
He stopped outside.
The mark pulsed again.
"Seems like this is where it wants me to go…"
He had no idea what was inside.
However, whatever it was...
He had already gone too far to go back.