The moment they crossed the threshold of the Burial Forest, the crimson moonlight died.
It didn't fade the way ordinary light faded, dimming by degrees as clouds passed or trees thickened overhead. It simply stopped, as though some line had been drawn in the black earth that light itself had agreed never to cross, and beyond that line the bone-white trees stood in a colorless dark that had no source and needed none.
"Everyone stay close," He Jian said, his voice pitched low, the kind of low that came from a throat trying not to disturb something sleeping. "Don't wander. Don't split off, not even by three steps."
"Wasn't planning to," Zhou Ke muttered, pressing himself so near to Wang Heyan's shoulder that the two of them moved like a single, ungainly creature. "I've had enough forest for one lifetime, thanks."
Lin Yue said nothing. He was looking up.
