The corrupted forest stood unnaturally still, as though the land itself hesitated to intrude upon the exchange unfolding within its depths. The darkened trees no longer writhed in violent distortion, their twisted forms frozen in uneasy silence, as if even the corruption spreading through their roots recognized the significance of the moment.
The air felt heavier here.
Thicker.
Each breath carried the faint metallic tang of mana long since tainted beyond purification, its presence pressing subtly against the senses like an unseen pressure that refused to fully dissipate.
The cloaked figure stood motionless before the seated old man, the layered fabric of the cloak stirring faintly despite the absence of wind.
For several moments, neither moved.
Neither spoke.
Then—
The figure lifted a slender hand.
The cloak fell away.
Dark fabric slid softly from her shoulders, revealing the form concealed beneath.
A woman stood there.
