The Silver Arrow

The path faded into the heart of the Harthil Woods, where the light barely pierced the thick canopy above. You — hands poised on the hilt, eyes sharp — moved through broken branches and damp moss, following the traces left behind by the creature you had been tasked to find… or protect. A vague mission, like most had been since your arrival in this world. You did not know you had entered the territory of the Silver Arrow. The first sign was the silence. Not the natural hush of the forest, but an unnatural stillness, as though the woods themselves were holding their breath. Then came the arrow — it hissed past your cheek, embedding itself in the trunk behind you. It bore no sound of warning. It was a sentence.