The Forest at Rhenwood Lake
The wind howled like something alive, slipping between towering trees and dragging thick mist through the forest. Pines swayed and groaned under the weight of the approaching storm, and the air smelled of damp earth and coming rain.
Cain Sebanil adjusted the strap of his duffel bag and exhaled a slow breath, watching it cloud in the cold air. The trail he followed had long since vanished into wet leaves and scattered stones, but he knew this land well. The old family cabin was less than two kilometers ahead.
He was only twenty-four at the time. Tall, broad-shouldered, with windswept black hair and dark eyes like obsidian. He was used to walking alone — preferred it, even. Being part of a prestigious family had its weight, and solitude was often easier than politics. Out here, no one needed him to smile or strategize.
Just trees. Quiet. And peace.
Or so he thought.
Because that was the day he found him.
