Elaris wiped the sweat from his forehead, muttering under his breath, "We didn't find the jewel… again."

His voice carried that sharp edge of frustration, but also a weariness that made the whole search feel heavier than it already was.

Immediately, the group froze. One by one, they turned toward him, the intensity of their glares practically burning.

"It's your fault!" someone snapped. Another echoed, "You were supposed to check that path first!"

The weight of blame fell squarely on Elaris's shoulders, and he looked smaller somehow, his hands trembling slightly as if the scolding had made him shrink in place.

I stepped forward, raising my hands in a calm gesture, trying to ease the tension before it could break something more than tempers.

"No one's at fault," I said, my voice firm yet gentle, "not really. It's the carriage.

It's old, and it's been acting up. That's why this happened."

Elaris gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, grateful for the reprieve, and the group seemed to let the sharp edge of their anger dissipate.

Though, there was still a lingering tension in the air.

We all glanced around the dusty path, the sun now dipping lower behind the clouds, casting shadows that seemed too long and deliberate.

We resumed the search, eyes scanning the ground for anything that might hint at the missing jewel.

After a few anxious minutes, Elaris's sharp eyes caught something unusual.

He crouched down and picked up small fragments of broken wheel shards, their edges splintered and jagged.

"Look at this," he said, voice quivering slightly with anticipation.

The group gathered around, curiosity sparking through the previous frustration.

The shards, however, didn't lead back along the track as we'd expected. Instead, they pointed toward the dense forest that bordered the path.

A shadowed place that seemed to whisper secrets we didn't want to hear.

Elaris straightened and called me and the girls over, his tone urgent. "You need to see this," he said.

I could see the anxiety in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders.

We hurried back to where he was standing, careful not to step on any of the scattered debris.

Bella, ever the practical one, squinted at the fragments.

"Must be some wild animals," she suggested, trying to rationalize what felt anything but rational.

I shook my head slowly, my voice carrying a note of doubt. "I don't think so," I said.

"Wild animals don't care about wooden scraps.

They might scatter them, but they wouldn't carry them off in a pattern like this."

All eyes turned to the dense treeline.

The forest seemed alive in its silence, the shadows thickening as the wind rustled through the leaves.

Finally, Sarah stepped forward, her boots crunching against the gravel as she looked at the others.

"What are you guys waiting for? Let's go inside." Her voice was calm, almost daring, but there was a ripple of anticipation beneath her bravado.

I followed her without hesitation, my heart hammering in my chest.

One by one, the others entered behind me.

Elaris, however, stayed rooted where he stood, eyes flicking nervously between the forest and us.

We glanced back at him, a silent plea in our gaze, but he shook his head. "I… I feel something wrong," he admitted, his voice low and uneasy.

Aria, gripping her spear a little tighter, frowned. "It must just be an animal that likes shiny things. We can handle it. We'll get the jewel."

I walked back to Elaris, crouching slightly to meet his eyes. "It's okay," I said softly, trying to convey trust and reassurance.

He seemed to relax a fraction, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Belief, even a small one, can work wonders.

I turned back to the group. "We'll make our way there," I said, "but with caution. Stay alert, stay together."

We nodded silently, the weight of anticipation pressing down on us as we entered the forest.

The trees were massive, their thick canopies blotting out the sunlight.

The air grew cooler, heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth.

Shadows danced like living things, stretching and shifting as our eyes adjusted to the gloom.

Elaris tugged at my sleeve repeatedly, each pull tighter than the last.

His fear was palpable. His breath came in shallow, quick bursts, and I could see his hands shaking.

Every snap of a twig beneath our feet made him jump, and more than once he whispered prayers under his breath.

I put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm right here. We'll be fine," I reassured him.

The sounds of the forest were strange and unnerving.

Leaves rustled in ways that made our skin crawl, unseen animals scurried somewhere just out of sight, and every sudden crack of a branch seemed amplified in the quiet gloom.

Sarah, ever the brave one, tried to maintain a composed facade. Without anyone asking, she declared, "I'm not scared at all."

Her voice was light, but the slight quiver betrayed her.

We followed the trail carefully, the broken wheel shards partially hidden under fallen leaves, their jagged edges glinting faintly in the filtered sunlight.

For thirty long minutes, we moved silently, tension wrapping around our shoulders like a heavy cloak.

Finally, the trail opened up, revealing an unexpected sight: a wide field bathed in pale sunlight, the grass swaying in a gentle breeze, wildflowers dotting the edges, and, in the middle of it, a lone wooden house.

The field felt surreal after the oppressive forest.

The air was warmer, lighter, and yet there was a strange stillness that made us all pause.

Elaris gripped my arm, urgency and triumph mingling in his wide eyes.

"See what I told you!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling, part fear, part excitement.

The group stiffened immediately.

Aria raised her spear, her stance sharp, ready for anything that might emerge from the seemingly serene surroundings.

I held up a hand, motioning for quiet. "Shhh," I whispered, my voice barely louder than the wind brushing through the grass.

We approached the wooden house slowly, our steps careful so as not to betray our presence.

Each floorboard groaned beneath our weight, a reminder that the house had stood for a long time, abandoned or perhaps waiting.

The structure itself was modest but oddly menacing in the light of the fading day.

Its wooden panels were weathered, warped by countless seasons, and the roof sagged slightly as if under some invisible burden.

Windows, small and grimy, reflected fragments of the fading sky.

I stopped in front of the door, which was made of thick, rough wood, its grain deeply etched and splintered in places.

The rusty iron handle and lock spoke of years of neglect.

I could feel the tension vibrating through the air, as if the house itself were aware of our intrusion.

I raised my hand and knocked, the sound hollow, resonating through the empty field.

The door creaked and shuddered under my knock.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the door swung open.

My breath caught in my throat, seeing the person that opened the door.

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