The mist never stopped moving.
It swirled and shifted in patterns that defied logic, creating new landscapes every few seconds, erasing any hope of visual landmarks. The twisted trees seemed to rearrange themselves when no one was looking, and the spongy ground beneath their feet felt different with every step, as if the very terrain was reshaping itself continuously.
Leon stopped walking, his hand raised to halt Seraphine beside him. They stood in what appeared to be another identical clearing in the endless white maze.
"This is it," he said with certainty that he didn't entirely feel. "This is the furthest point we reached, where we decided to turn back."
My Intelligence stat is in four digits, he reminded himself, trying to quell the doubt gnawing at his consciousness. My memory is perfect. I know this is the spot.
