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The Sacred Grove

The air hung heavy with the weight of ancient magic, pulsating through the grove like a heartbeat, pulling them deeper into its mysterious depths. Each step felt deliberate, as if the very earth beneath their feet was guiding them, beckoning them forward. The trees shimmered with an ethereal glow, their leaves whispering secrets of times long past. It was beautiful—hauntingly so—but it carried a darkness that clung to them like a shadow, the kind of darkness that sees into the soul.

Adrian halted, eyes narrowed, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. His voice, a sharp whisper, cut through the thick silence. "Something’s not right."

Jakob scoffed from behind, his face twisted in a cynical sneer. “Not right? This whole place is a trap, Adrian. It’s feeding off us. Can't you feel it?” His words, bitter and jagged, sliced through the tension like shards of glass. “Our fears, our regrets. It’s laughing at us.”

Adrian’s gaze flickered across the grove. "Alive, yes.
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