Ragnar trudged forward, his eyes locked on the thin laser beam slicing through the dimming twilight, guiding them deeper into the forest's embrace.
The air grew thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and shadows stretched long across the uneven path, swallowing the last remnants of daylight.
Behind him, the girls moved in a tight cluster—Aria leading the pack with her steady stride, the others trailing with varying degrees of unease etched into their faces.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised purples and fading oranges, the forest came alive with noise.
Leaves rustled like whispers in the wind, distant branches cracked under unseen weight, and the occasional hoot of an owl pierced the growing darkness.
Ragnar's fingers tightened around the glowing core in his palm, its warmth a small comfort against the chill settling in his bones.
