The forest that stretched beyond the boundaries of Skygate Academy was far older than it appeared at first glance. Towering trees rose like silent sentinels, their thick trunks rooted deep within the earth, while their branches intertwined high above to form a dense canopy that filtered the sunlight into scattered, dim rays. Those faint streaks of light painted the forest floor in uneven patterns, illuminating patches of moss, fallen leaves, and damp soil.
At first glance, it seemed peaceful.
But the silence was wrong.
It was not the natural quiet of a resting wilderness, nor the calm that followed the passing of wind or creatures. Instead, it was a suffocating stillness, heavy with something unseen. Even the smallest signs of life—birds, insects, or distant rustling—were absent, as if the forest itself had withdrawn in anticipation of something that had yet to happen.
