The group pressed forward, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they navigated the dense undergrowth of the forest.
The laughter was faint at first, an echo that barely reached their ears, but it was enough to send a chill down their spines.
As they ran, the Scarred Soldier gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed as though it might snap.
Beside him, the Younger Woman kept her gaze low, her hand clutching a small dagger, though she knew it was useless against what was chasing them.
Then it grew louder.
Lyerin's laughter wasn't the sound of a man enjoying a lighthearted moment—it was deep, resonant, and filled with a menacing delight.
The forest seemed to amplify it, twisting the sound so that it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
It was the kind of laughter that burrowed into the mind, leaving an oppressive weight on their thoughts.