Stepping under the eaves of Tallenwood was like passing through a physical barrier. One moment, the familiar warmth of the late spring sun on their skin. The next, a sudden, heavy coolness and a perpetual twilight beneath a canopy so dense it felt like a suffocating green roof. Ancient trees, trunks thicker than Averian watchtowers, soared into the gloom, interlocking branches high above like the arthritic fingers of primeval giants, strangling the sunlight. What little illumination penetrated arrived in sickly, shifting patches on the moss-carpeted floor. The air grew still, damp, heavy with the rich, loamy scent of millennia of decay, fallen leaves, damp earth, unseen fungi.

  More profoundly unsettling than the lack of light, however, was the lack of sound. William, whose EMMA constantly processed background sensory input, found the absolute silence unnerving. Where were the birds? The insect drone? The rustle of unseen creatures in the undergrowth? The forest wasn't quiet; it was void. The silence pressed in, thick and watchful, amplifying the soft thump of their own boots on moss, the creak of Roland’s saddle leather, the rustle of their oilskins. Auditory baseline deviation: Critical negative variance across all expected wildlife frequency bands, EMMA flagged internally, confirming the primal wrongness William felt crawling up his spine. This isn't peaceful, this is an ecological dead zone.

  Sir Roland, apparently keen to make up lost time, set a brutal pace. He and Jett moved with the quiet, economical grace of veterans, navigating the treacherous terrain of roots and fallen logs as if strolling down a paved road. Julia, surprisingly, kept pace, her breathing controlled, evidence of conditioning William wouldn't have expected.

  William and Caspian, however, represented the lagging variables. William’s shin, mostly healed from Yegun’s kick thanks to Julia’s ministrations and his own oddly rapid recovery metrics, still sent twinges of protest up his leg with every awkward step over roots. His new +2 armor, though lighter than plate, felt like a lead weight after an hour of this forced march, and his breath sawed raggedly in his chest. He focused grimly on planting one boot in front of the other, trying not to trip. User exertion levels exceeding recommended parameters, he thought wryly, wiping sweat from his stinging eyes. Cardiovascular performance requires significant optimization. Project Idea: Mana-assisted stamina augmentation? Feasibility study required.

  Beside him, Prince Caspian fared little better, face flushed brick-red, breath coming in short, sharp gasps, his practical scholar’s robes dark with sweat. To his credit, he uttered no complaint, jaw clenched, one hand gripping the amulet at his neck like a lifeline.

  After nearly an hour that felt like three, Roland, glancing back at the struggling scholar and analyst, finally signalled a halt in a small, oppressive clearing dominated by a colossal, ancient oak. “Rest,” he commanded curtly, eyes already scanning the unnervingly still trees, hand resting near his sword. “Five minutes. Conserve water.”

  William practically folded, slumping against the oak’s immense, furrowed trunk, the bark rough through his tunic. He gratefully uncorked his waterskin, taking slow, measured sips, forcing his breathing to regulate. Caspian collapsed beside him, gulping water more desperately before accepting a piece of dried fruit William offered. Julia joined them, stretching tired leg muscles, but her gaze constantly swept the silent surroundings.

  “It's too quiet,” she murmured, voicing the shared unease. “Not a single birdcall since we entered.”

  Jett, who hadn't relaxed, stood motionless, head cocked, listening to the profound absence of sound. He nodded slowly, his expression grim. “Aye. It’s wrong,” he confirmed, his voice a low whisper that barely disturbed the heavy air. “Tallenwood’s usually loud. Full of life. Squirrels chattering, birds squabbling, boar rooting… This…” He gestured vaguely at the unnervingly silent woods. “This feels like the forest is holding its breath. Waiting for something.”

  The scout’s assessment solidified their unease. This wasn't just city-dweller paranoia.

  “Could it be the main goblin army?” Caspian asked, his voice hushed, wiping sweat from his brow. “Are they so close they’ve driven all the animals away?”

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  “Possible,” Roland conceded, frowning. “Or something else drove the wildlife away. Though no natural predator native to these woods should cast such a wide net of fear.” He looked at Jett. “Any sign?”

  Jett shook his head, frustration flickering in his eyes. “The silence itself blinds me. No calls to track, no fleeing game leaving trails.” He paused, gaze fixed on the deep woods to the west. “But the feeling… it’s like thunder gathering just out of sight.” His decision was swift. “I’ll range ahead. Westward sweep, quarter-mile radius. See if I can cut a sign, tracks, scent, anything.” He gave Roland a sharp look. “Stay alert. Stay quiet.”

  And then he was simply gone, dissolving into the dappled shadows without a sound. Stealth Capability: Confirmed, borderline supernatural, William noted again, impressed despite the circumstances. Like a perfectly optimized background process.

  Left in the waiting silence, William couldn't remain idle. His mind demanded data, analysis of the anomaly. Okay, EMMA, he focused internally, access recent passive sensory logs. Filter: Auditory/Visual Wildlife Encounters. Timeframe: Sharwood Departure to Present. Plot encounter frequency against elapsed time. Identify deviation patterns.

  The internal visualization materialized: time on the X-axis, estimated animal encounters per minute (combining tracks, sounds, sightings) on the Y. The line started low but stable just outside Sharwood (~5/min). Inside Tallenwood, it remained low for about fifteen minutes. Initial entry phase: Normal baseline.

  Then, the graph suddenly, violently, spiked. A near-vertical climb reaching a sharp peak around the 38-minute mark of their trek. EMMA annotated: Peak Encounters: Est. 120+/min. Detected Signatures: Small animals (Multiple Species). Dominant Movement Vector: South/South-East (Away from Deep Woods - North/North-West). A panic migration. A flood of creatures fleeing en masse.

  Then, just as abruptly, the graph cratered. Plummeted to absolute zero around the 40-minute mark and remained flatlined for the last twenty minutes of their march. Zero birdsong. Zero rustling. Zero tracks except their own. A biological vacuum.

  William stared at the stark data visualization, the story it told chillingly clear. This wasn't random. This wasn't a single predator. This was a large-scale disturbance moving through the forest, creating a shockwave of fleeing animals ahead of it, leaving utter silence in its wake. He cross-referenced the event timing with their travel vector and Oswald's intel about the southward-moving army deep in the woods.

  Oh, hell. The realization hit him with cold certainty. Error in initial hypothesis. The spike wasn't animals fleeing something ahead of us. It was animals fleeing something moving parallel to us, deeper in the forest to the west. We didn't walk into the silent zone, the zone overtook us as the disturbance passed our relative position.

  He had to warn Roland. Now. The threat wasn't just somewhere ahead on the southern trails, it could be pacing them, hidden by the trees, much, much closer than anticipated.

  “Sir Roland,” William said, his voice low but urgent, cutting through the oppressive quiet. The knight’s head snapped towards him, instantly alert. “Jett's right. The silence… it’s structured.” He summarized his findings quickly, omitting EMMA but presenting the data pattern. “Minimal wildlife entering the woods, then a massive spike roughly twenty-five minutes ago, hundreds of creatures, all fleeing south-east. Then, for the last twenty minutes… absolute silence. A dead zone.”

  He explained his interpretation, the words tumbling out with urgent logic. “That pattern doesn’t fit us approaching a static threat. It indicates we recently passed, or were passed by, the leading edge of whatever caused that mass exodus. The silence isn't ahead of us, it's likely behind the main body of the disturbance.” He met Roland’s sharp gaze. “If that disturbance is Virrerk’s army, as the intel suggests… they aren't just blocking the southern trails far ahead. They could be moving parallel to our current position, deeper in the woods, right now. Much closer.”

  Caspian visibly paled further. Julia drew a sharp, silent breath, her hand instinctively moving towards where she might draw mana. Roland’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, his gaze no longer fixed ahead, but sweeping the dense, silent trees to their left and right with fierce intensity.

  “Gods…” Roland breathed, the grim calculation clear on his face. “An army, moving unseen, flanking us.” He didn’t question William’s analysis, the pattern was too compelling, too consistent with Jett's unease. The immediate danger was palpable. If a goblin scouting party stumbled upon them now, separated from Jett…

  Just as that chilling thought solidified, a sudden flicker of motion registered at the edge of the clearing, perhaps fifty yards distant. Not the near-invisible dissolving return of Jett, but something faster, more frantic, breaking through the undergrowth with panicked urgency.