The night wind howled through the trees. Beneath the blood-red moon, the mist within the forest grew heavier, like a silent curtain drawn between the heavens and the earth.
Eli stood beneath a very old, withered tree, looking up with a faint trace of worry in his eyes. His young face was pale, and his lips moved slightly as if reciting something under his breath.
With a sudden ripple in the air, a figure in black appeared beside him.
The man was tall, his black coat fluttering like raven feathers. Though disheveled, his presence was oppressive, sharp like a blade hidden within a scabbard. His eyes were cold and piercing.
"You've come," Eli said in a low voice.
Atlas didn't speak. He glanced once toward the depths of the forest, then placed his hand on his shoulder.
"Where is she?"
Without answering, Eli turned and led the way.
In the heart of the misty forest, where sunlight never reached and time seemed to twist unnaturally, Liora stood alone beneath the moon.
