The Dark Turn

The air had changed. Not in the way a storm approaches, with a shift in pressure and a darkening sky, but something subtler, something that crept into the spaces between breaths. Taye felt it first as a chill against his skin, though the sun still hung overhead, a pale disc behind a veil of thin, gray clouds. The path they followed had narrowed, the vibrant green of the forest giving way to twisted, gnarled trees whose branches clawed at the sky like skeletal fingers.

He walked at the front, alone, the others strung out behind him in a loose, silent line. The sounds of their footsteps, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird—all seemed muffled, as if the world itself was holding its breath. He hadn't spoken to Trinity since the confrontation by the campfire, and the silence between them was a living thing, a wound that refused to close. He could feel her gaze on his back sometimes, a weight he refused to acknowledge.

“This place feels wrong,” Kheta said, her voice low, almost a whisper. She walked beside Justin, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow.