Chapter 4 — The Forest’s Secrets

Hugo

The forest loomed ahead like a cathedral of shadow and silence, its towering trees arching skyward as though in supplication. Hugo de Montclair dismounted from his horse at the edge of the treeline, the damp air thick with the musk of decaying leaves. He tethered the animal to a low branch, its hooves stamping nervously on the mossy ground. The villagers' whispers of pagan rituals, of witches meeting under moonlight, had led him here. Yet, as he gazed into the forest’s depths, a peculiar unease coiled in his stomach, tightening like a serpent around his ribs.