The forest had changed.
The air was thicker now—humid, heavy with the scent of blooming Nightshade Lilies and the bitter tang of moss. Fog curled along the ground in long, ghostly tendrils, muffling sound and limiting vision. Even the birdsong had ceased, replaced by a low, persistent hum—like the forest itself was watching.
Kai moved slowly now.Not because of fear.
Because of instinct.
This wasn't natural fog.This was crafted.
A subtle illusion laced into the terrain—likely a field-type enchantment set to disorient participants who entered a certain radius. Not powerful enough to displace reality, but enough to alter perception.
He tapped the obsidian orb in his forearm. It pulsed weakly.
Still operational. But straining.
Whoever built this illusion did it well.
He crouched near a tree, carefully touching its bark. Solid. Real. But—He tossed another pebble five feet to his left.
It sank through the ground like it had dropped into water—then disappeared.An illusionary pit.
