Morning comes pale and tired.
The city breathes again — but something feels wrong.
Like the air is holding its breath, waiting for something it shouldn't.
At the guild, whispers crawl between tables.
They talk about the mist, not a mist but the one.
Apparently, it's happened before. Many times.
Some call it Veil Night. Others just say the breathing fog.
I sit at a corner table, half-listening. Someone laughs nervously, claiming it's just monsters that follow moonlight. But others… lower their voices. One man swears the mist hungers, that it listens when people speak too loud.
Raynor drops into the seat across from me, mug in hand.
"You look like you didn't sleep."
"Didn't sleep much," I answer. "Too quiet last night."
He smirks.
"You heard the talk, right? Mist's coming again."
"Again?"
"Yeah. Happens every few months. The forest pukes out its nightmares, and we clean up."
He takes a slow sip, eyes narrowing.
"But this one's different. Smells colder. And the guild started sealing the wards early. That's never a good sign."
Outside, bells ring faintly, the sound of preparation.
Guards set barriers. Vendors shutter their stalls.
The whole city moves like it's rehearsed this before.
By evening, the sun bleeds into the rooftops.
The mist crawls back faster than I expected.
I find myself near the northern gate again.
The gatekeeper stands there, spear planted in the dirt, eyes fixed on the treeline.
When he sees me, his jaw tightens.
"You came. Good. It's always worse when the forest goes quiet first."
"Quiet?"
He nods toward the trees. "Listen."
And I do.
No birds. No wind. Just silence stretched too far.
He digs something from his pocket – a small wooden charm, crudely carved.
"Wear this," he mutters, pressing it into my hand. "It won't stop them, but it'll make them hesitate."
I hang it around my neck. It's cold and oddly heavy for wood.
The city gates creak shut. The bells toll once, it's the signal.
Fog seeps in like spilled ink. The air thickens until the torches barely glow.
Then I hear it.
A whisper, soft, scattered between the stones.
At first, I think it's the wind.
Then I realize it's speaking.
Not words. But names.
Voices coil through the mist, human voices that sound wrong, flat and hollow.
"...?∎▯▢⊙⋑?..."
My stomach drops. I've heard this before.
A memory stirs – a dark ritual, half-remembered.
Robes. Chanting. Blood on the floor.
Someone plunging a dagger into their chest.
Something rising from the blood.
"–HEY! Get your shit together!"
The gatekeeper's shout snaps me back.
When I open my eyes, I see him –
the man with the golden eyes, standing in the fog, smiling faintly.
Like a beast playing with its prey.
He waves once… then disappears into the trees.
Something moves behind him – shapeless, crawling low.
I draw my blade. The thing lurches into view –all bones and smoke.
It smiles with no mouth.
"You shouldn't have left the forest," it whispers.
The gatekeeper swings his torch.
Light bursts through the fog.
The creature shrieks and crumbles to ash.
"Don't listen to them!" he shouts.
But the mist doesn't stop.
It presses closer, swallowing light. Even the enchanted lanterns flicker like dying stars.
I fight – or try to.
Every strike feels like cutting through air.
The steel hums, but nothing falls.
Someone screams beside me.
Another guard vanishes mid-breath.
Then I hear it again, right behind me this time –
"Found you."
The voice slides through my skull, cold and curious.
I stumble back, clutching my head.
The charm burns hot against my skin – and suddenly, the voice fades.
When I blink, the mist is retreating - dragged backward, like a living thing in pain.
By dawn, it's gone.
The city stands – scarred but breathing.
Black stains mark the stones near the gate.
The gatekeeper exhales, face pale under the weak light.
"It's over," he mutters. "For now."
Then he turns to me, glaring.
"But you – why the hell did you dream in the middle of the fight?! You crazy or what?"
I nod weakly.
"Sorry, man… I don't know what happened. Thanks for the help."
He grunts. "Next time, stay conscious."
Later, I walk the streets alone.
Everything feels still.
The city holds its breath, waiting for the next exhale of fog.
The whisper echoes again in my mind.
"Found you."
I stare at the horizon. My pulse slows.
It wasn't the first time the mist came.
But it was the first time… it remembered me.