Silvy's voice echoed through the misty expanse of the Elf Trail.
"Kyle? Kyle, where are you?"
No answer came—only the whispering rustle of leaves, the low hum of distant mana currents, and the ever-present mist that clung to her like cold breath.
She turned in a slow circle, her chest tightening with each passing second. Panic hadn't fully taken hold yet, but confusion was quickly creeping in.
"When did I lose him…?"
She murmured.
Silvy retraced her steps mentally. She'd been speaking to him, holding his hand—or what she thought was his hand.
She cursed under her breath, realizing now that it had all been an illusion.
The Elf Trail had fooled her. Again.
Silvy turned to the side of the trail and stared out into the woods beyond.
There was no path there—only thick trees and swirling fog, the unknown pressing in from all directions. The rules of the Elf Trail were clear:
Never leave it. Never look back. Never lose your guide.
