When Kael opened his eyes again, the light was gone—replaced by trees. Pale, twisted trees, their bark as white as bone. A cold mist clung to the forest floor, swirling around his feet like living smoke.
The pendant still pulsed in his hand, dim now, but warm.
"Where… am I?" he whispered.
Branches creaked above. Leaves rustled, though there was no wind. Everything felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still.
He took a cautious step forward.
Crunch.
He looked down.
Bones.
Tiny ones—scattered like fallen twigs. Birds? No. Something else.
Kael's breath caught. He wasn't alone.
Somewhere deep in the mist, something was breathing. Slow. Heavy. Watching.
He turned in every direction but saw only white trunks and fog. Then a figure stepped into view.
Tall. Hooded. Its face was hidden in shadows, but its hands were visible—long, bony fingers clutching a wooden staff. The air around it shimmered, like heat rising from a flame.
"Return the pendant," it said in a hollow voice. "Or be devoured."
Kael backed away. "What is this place?"
The figure took a step forward. The mist swirled unnaturally around its feet.
"The Forgotten Realm," it whispered. "And you were never meant to wake it."