The edge of Dustbridge looked smaller than it should have. The town's burned houses leaned on each other like old men swaying in the wind. Beyond them, the fog pressed in, pale and thick, swallowing the last traces of sun. It wasn't a fog I knew; it felt alive, like it breathed and watched, and I could feel my own pulse scrambling under it.
Lea's words were sharp in my memory. "Silas sees everything, Jack. If you're afraid of dying here, you won't survive living here. Time isn't what it seems past this edge. One step too far, and it's your mistake."
I tightened my grip on the revolver at my hip. My stomach turned, but I tried not to show it. "I'll be fine," I muttered, more to myself than her.
"You'd better be," she said, her voice carrying that quiet authority I'd learned to obey without question. There was a flicker of warmth in her tone, though, just enough to remind me she wasn't entirely cold. "Just… stay alert. Don't let the fog get inside your head."
I swallowed, nodded, and stepped forward. My boots hit the cracked earth outside the last burned fence, and the fog swallowed me whole.
It was worse than I imagined. Sound bent. Light bent. Even my own breathing sounded wrong, like I was underwater. Shapes moved at the edge of my vision. I squinted, trying to see clearly, but everything blurred. Shadows stretched in ways no shadow should.
I tried to sense souls. I remembered what Lea had said, though she hadn't explained much yet. Feel, don't see. My chest ached with tension as I reached with my mind, trying to pick up anything — black, white, gray. Nothing. The fog blanketed them all. I could feel… nothing but confusion, the weight of my own gray soul pulsing unevenly.
Somewhere close, a faint movement caught my eye. I froze. Heart hammering. A shape emerged from the fog — thin, black, and wrong. Hollowed. I raised the gun, fingers trembling.
"Stay back!" I shouted, but my voice was swallowed immediately.
The creature lunged. Its face melted into something grotesque, eyes burning dimly like dying coals. I fired — three shots that seemed to vanish. The thing didn't slow.
I stumbled backward. Tripped. Fell. The world pitched, my gun skittering across cold sand. The hollowed loomed over me, its arm stretching impossibly, mouth opening like a void.
And then everything stopped.
A sharp metallic slice cut through the air. The creature froze, split down the middle. It fell silently, like it had never been alive.
I turned slowly. A man stood there, leaning on a bloodstained blade. His coat was torn, burned in places. His eyes — gray, old, tired — studied me without expression.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, low and rough. "The land doesn't like the lost."
I blinked. "Who… who are you?" My voice sounded small, ridiculous in the fog.
"Someone who's been here too long," he said. He crouched beside me, scanning the fog. "You don't feel right. Your soul… I can't tell if it's heavy or hollow."
"I… what?"
"You'll learn," he said simply. "White feels light, hollow. Black presses. Gray… gray confuses everything. It doesn't belong. Not here."
I swallowed, heart hammering. "Gray? What does that mean?"
"Means you're different," he said. "Means you'll survive longer than you should — or die trying. Depends on the choices you make."
I tried to sit up, wincing. The fog pressed close, whispering, teasing. "I tried… I tried to sense it all. I couldn't."
The man shook his head. "Not at first. Not without practice. You have to feel the color, not see it. Not even the light can show you what's inside someone. You'll start with what's near — the living, the lost, the corrupted."
I tried to process it, but the fog made my thoughts sluggish. Everything felt distant, like I was half awake, half dreaming. I wanted to ask him more, but the words wouldn't come.
"Be careful who you trust in Dustbridge," he added after a pause. "Especially the Chief. His eye doesn't hide what it should."
I frowned. "Silas?"
He didn't answer directly. Just said, "Everyone knows him. Some wish they didn't. And the boy… Elai… he shouldn't be there. Not with him."
The fog shifted, curling around us, whispering in shapes I could almost understand. I shivered.
He stood, brushing dirt off his coat. "I can't stay long. But remember — the fog will try to pull you apart. It doesn't care about your fears or your anger. Only your mistakes."
I wanted to ask him his name, his story, anything. But he had already stepped back into the gray, vanishing as if swallowed by the mist.
I stayed on the ground a long while, gripping my gun, trying to remember what he had said. The shapes in the fog kept moving, but I couldn't tell which were real, which were illusions.
Eventually, I forced myself up. My legs shook, my heart still racing. The town of Dustbridge reappeared faintly through the haze. Time, as Lea had warned, had not behaved. Though it felt like an hour had passed, she told me three days had gone by.
I didn't mention the man. I didn't have a name, and he was already gone. But something in his presence lingered — a warning, a promise, a shadow of knowledge that wasn't mine.
I walked back through the fog toward the burned fences, toward Dustbridge, toward the town that should have been dead but was still very much alive — and very dangerous.
Every step made me more aware of what lay ahead: the Chief, the fog, the hollowed, and the gray inside me that confused and terrified me more than any shadow ever could.
I clenched my jaw and gripped my revolver. Survival wasn't just about bullets or fire — it was about sensing the invisible, feeling the color of souls, and keeping the part of me that was still… human.
The fog whispered behind me, but I didn't stop.