The following morning, a strange, dense fog rolled across the jagged ridges. Not natural fog—this one shifted unnaturally, folding and twisting, forming shapes that disappeared when they looked directly at them. Lira tightened her cloak, her senses alert.
"This is not ordinary," Thalanir whispered, stepping carefully over a silver-tinted root jutting from the ground. "Magic is manipulating the terrain. It wants to confuse us."
Renkai growled softly, his tails twitching nervously. "We've chased illusions before, but this… it's like the land itself is alive and trying to push us away."
Serelyth hovered above, wings beating slowly, eyes scanning through the fog. "I see movement… but I can't distinguish between scout and shadow. Stay close."
