The clearing in the Deep Woods did not just feel quiet. It felt dead.
The heavy, suffocating silence pressed down on them, broken only by the wet, rhythmic sound of blood dripping from the Executioner's ruined armor onto the dry leaves. The massive giant lay motionless in the dirt. His lifeless eyes stared up at the dark, twisted branches, his iron capped teeth locked in a permanent, ugly grin.
A few feet away, Kael remained on his knees. He did not move. He did not blink. His heavy broadsword lay abandoned in the mud. Both of his hands were cupped together, holding the small, silver locket. The blood staining the delicate metal was already starting to dry, turning a sickly, dark brown in the cold night air.
