The next day, the morning light that should have gently filtered through the gaps in the tent fabric was completely blocked by the roar of heavy rain that had returned with ferocious intensity. Heavy, cold raindrops hammered against the tent like thousands of tiny hammers, creating an unpleasant rhythm that woke Sylvia earlier than usual. Her undead body, which was usually resistant to extreme weather, this time felt a strange energy shift in the air, a cold vibration crawling down her spine, like a whisper of darkness drawing closer.
