The wood雕 in my hand pulsed faintly, guiding me forward with a subtle, almost magnetic pull. It didn’t point in a straight line, but seemed to weave through the dense vegetation, leading me along a barely perceptible path.
After walking for what felt like hours, the environment around me began to change. The trees grew even larger, their trunks covered in moss and epiphytes. The air felt heavier, and a strange stillness settled over the forest, the usual sounds of insects and birds fading away.
I felt a growing sense of unease. The guiding pull of the wood雕 intensified, leading me towards an area where the trees were particularly gnarled and twisted, their branches forming a tangled, almost unnatural pattern against the sky.
As I got closer, I noticed something strange about the ground. It was covered not with leaves, but with a layer of what looked like black, powdery ash. And scattered within the ash were small, dried-up husks, which vaguely resembled shrunken, distorted insect bodies.
A creeping discomfort settled in my stomach. This place felt wrong. It felt… dead.
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