The forest was quiet—too quiet. Jack felt the change as soon as he stepped past the treeline that morning, bow in hand, prepared for another hunt. Eldergrove’s woods were familiar to him, a second home in many ways. Every whisper of wind, every rustle in the bushes had a rhythm to it, a natural flow he had long since mastered. But today, it was as if the forest held its breath. 

Jack stopped, his instincts sharper than ever. Something was off. He squinted at the sky, noticing a faint layer of mist hanging between the trees, though the day was clear. His blue eyes narrowed as he scanned his surroundings. The birds that usually fluttered overhead were absent, and not a single sound broke the stillness—not even the scurrying of squirrels or the distant cry of a hawk.

He crouched low, brushing his fingers over the forest floor. The soil felt damp, heavier than it should have been for this time of year. His blonde hair, tied back, shifted slightly as a breeze passed, carrying with it a scent he couldn’t place—something faint, but unsettling.

Years of hunting had honed his intuition. Jack had learned to trust the small, unexplainable feelings that prickled at the edge of his awareness. They often led him to prey others would overlook or warned him of predators lurking nearby. But this... this felt different.

He rose slowly, his hand tightening around the bow. The trees stood like silent sentinels, their branches creaking slightly, but offering no answers. 

“Where is everything?” he muttered under his breath.

The forest had never been this lifeless, not in all his years. His boots moved quietly across the moss-covered ground as he ventured deeper, searching for signs of game. He had planned to bring back enough venison to trade at the market. But as the hours passed, it became clear that today’s hunt would not be like any other.

Jack paused again, hearing a faint sound at last—barely a ripple in the silence. It came from the east, deeper into the woods, near the riverbank. His heart quickened, though he could not explain why. He moved toward it, his steps cautious, yet eager for some explanation.

As he approached, the sound grew louder. It was not the rustle of an animal, but something softer, like fabric brushing against bark. Jack held his breath, creeping closer until he reached the source of the sound. 

There, by the riverbank, stood an animal. A deer, its fur pale as snow, drinking from the water’s edge. Jack’s muscles tensed. He’d never seen one like this before, and its presence felt... wrong. The creature raised its head, and for a brief moment, its gaze met Jack’s. Its eyes were dark, too dark, like a void where life should be.

Jack froze, an icy chill creeping up his spine. The deer turned and bounded away, vanishing into the mist before he could so much as lift his bow. 

“What in the gods’ name...?” Jack whispered, shaken.

He stood by the river, watching the mist swirl and ripple across the water. The encounter left a deep unease within him, a nagging sense that something much larger than he could understand was unfolding. 

His thoughts drifted back to Eamon’s words. The Scourge... Could it be? No, it was impossible. Jack had hunted these woods for years, and though he had heard the legends, none of them had ever felt real. But now, standing alone in the quiet forest, he wasn’t so sure.

The feeling of being watched was growing stronger. Jack’s gaze darted to the shadows between the trees, but he saw no movement. His instincts, the same ones that had guided him through countless hunts, were urging him to leave. And yet, a part of him hesitated, as if he was meant to be here—meant to witness whatever strange events were beginning to unfold.

Jack shook his head, frustrated. He turned away from the riverbank and started back toward Eldergrove. 

Yet even as he moved, the unease lingered, a constant weight pressing down on his thoughts. Every step felt heavier than the last, as though the forest itself resisted his departure. He looked over his shoulder once more, half-expecting to see that strange, pale deer watching him again from the shadows. But there was nothing. Just the empty woods and the thickening mist.

By the time Jack returned to the village, the sun was already sinking below the horizon. The market square was bustling, but Jack felt disconnected, his mind still trapped in the eerie silence of the forest. As he made his way home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something—something crucial, just out of reach. 

He laid his bow against the wall, rubbing his chin, the thin line of his beard scratching beneath his fingers. His hands were steady, but his thoughts were not. That deer… those eyes. Jack had hunted enough animals to know what was natural and what wasn’t. And whatever that thing was, it didn’t belong.

Jack sat heavily on the edge of his bed, staring into the dim light of his small cabin. He was a hunter. A man of action, of survival. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what he was up against.

That night, sleep eluded him. Jack lay awake, eyes open in the dark, listening to the wind howl outside. His instincts whispered warnings he couldn’t quite grasp. The Scourge... Could it really be rising again? 

If it was, then the world was in far greater danger than anyone realized.