Chapter 270

One moment, I stood in that eerie clearing, surrounded by smooth, circular stones, chilled by an intense silence that seemed to press against my skin. Then, the silence shattered, replaced by an overwhelming surge of fear. A sharp gust swept through the clearing, colder than anything I’d ever felt, carrying with it a rank stench of mold and stagnant water. The smell hit my nose, sharp and unmistakably rotten—like decayed flesh left too long in the sun. I cringed, revolted by the festering edge to the scent.