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As they emerged from the gaping maw of the tunnel, their vision adjusted to the muted light of the outside world. A dense fog clung to the forest, a ghostly shroud that seemed alive, swirling lazily through the twisted silhouettes of trees.
The forest stretched endlessly before them, its ancient, gnarled trees standing like weary sentinels. Their sagging branches drooped low, as if bowing under the weight of unseen burdens. The bark was charred black and riddled with cracks, exuding an acrid scent of decay. Sporadic patches of moss clung to their trunks like parasites, glowing faintly in the mist—a sickly, greenish hue that only added to the forest's malevolence.
A heavy silence dominated the air, thick and oppressive. Not a single bird sang, no leaves rustled, and even the faint hum of insects was absent. It was as if the forest itself held its breath, waiting.