The moment they crossed the threshold, the world transformed into a suffocating blanket of white.
The mist wasn't just thick – it was absolute. It pressed against them from every direction, a tangible presence that seemed to crawl across their skin with ghostly fingers. Visibility dropped to almost nothing; Seraphine could barely make out Leon's form beside her, and anything beyond a meter might as well have ceased to exist. The white vapor swirled constantly, creating phantom shapes that appeared and vanished in peripheral vision, playing tricks on eyes desperate for any point of reference.
Sound became muffled and strange. Their footsteps, which should have echoed on solid ground, came back distorted and delayed, as if the mist itself was swallowing noise and regurgitating it at random intervals. Even their breathing seemed too loud and too quiet simultaneously, creating a disorienting cacophony that made concentration difficult.
