Revenant's Slaughter: The Reaper System

Forest of illusion and souls: 1

Atticus’s escape from the Citadel had been a blur, a desperate sprint through darkness and underbrush. But now, as he wandered through the forest, his mind felt strangely detached, as if it were slipping away from him. The trees around him were impossibly tall, their branches entwined like the bars of a cage. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something faintly metallic, like blood or rust.

He slowed his pace, glancing around with a growing sense of disorientation. He couldn’t remember how long he had been running, or even why he had chosen this path. The details of his escape were hazy, fragments of a dream that refused to coalesce into a coherent memory. His footsteps seemed to echo in the silence, but the sound was wrong, as if it were coming from somewhere else, some place just beyond his perception.

The forest was quiet, too quiet. No wind stirred the leaves, no animals rustled in the underbrush. It was as if the entire place were holding its breath