Liam continued northeast toward Veyrhold with the forest listening around him.
The Shadow Memory Nyxie had sent him still lingered in the back of his mind, not as a complete picture, but as fragments that refused to settle neatly. Old voices drifting from wrong directions. Student tracks bending away from safer routes. Mimic lures placed not like random hunger, but like crude hands pushing scattered prey into deeper danger.
The guide had warned them that Eldervale's threats were adapted, not ordinary. It had mentioned mimic behavior. It had explained that Choir Demons could only repeat voices they had heard before. But what Nyxie had shown him suggested something more coordinated than the dry academy phrasing had implied.
