The forest felt alive in all the wrong ways.
The ground was a dark, ashen brown, as if the soil itself had been burned and then forced to breathe again. Trees twisted toward the sky in unnatural angles, their bark veined with faint, sickly light.
Their leaves were black‑green and razor‑edged, rustling even when there was no wind, whispering like they were sharing secrets the living weren't meant to hear.
Between those warped trunks, beasts roamed freely—monsters that looked like they'd lost both sanity and restraint.
Ogres lumbered through the undergrowth, but unlike normal ones, their bodies were covered in jagged bone plates that jutted out of their backs and shoulders like crude armor.
Their eyes glowed a dull crimson, and thick, black drool dripped from their tusked mouths as they crushed smaller monsters underfoot without even noticing.
