Kael nodded firmly, feeling the weight of responsibility grow on his shoulders. Klee, still panting, began to lead the way through the trees, blazing an uncertain trail through the thick fog that seemed to swallow every step. The air was cold and damp, and the fog—dense and almost palpable—curled around Kael's legs as if trying to trap him there forever.
The silence of the forest was broken only by the occasional sound of branches breaking and dry leaves being crushed, but nothing else seemed alive or natural. The feeling of being watched did not leave Kael; the fog distorted the light and shapes, creating illusions that made his skin crawl.
"This fog..." Kael muttered, squinting to see beyond the gray curtain. "It seems... alive."
Klee looked back, her expression tense. "It's the curse. The closer we get to the village, the stronger it gets. It makes us lose track of time, of space... and if you're not careful, you may never leave here."
