Marked From Birth
The vibrant greens of the forest floor gave way to sickly, translucent whites and deep, bruised purples.
"Stop," Silas commanded, raising a hand.
The Iron Ridge Alpha knelt, touching a vine that was wrapped around a dying oak tree. The vine was pulsing with a faint, rhythmic violet light. "Sleeper’s Root. Fresh growth."
Audrey stepped closer, her heart skipping a beat. She felt a phantom ache in her chest—a memory of the Solar Heart’s agony. This plant was feeding on the mountain’s trauma.
Suddenly, the "whispers" of the trees changed. The soft rustling became a sharp, synchronized hiss.