The mist no longer drifted lazily through the valley. It moved, alive and restless, curling in unnatural spirals as Iris, Luna, and Selene crossed the ridge. Every step forward felt like trespassing into a forbidden world.
Behind them, the village lanterns flickered faintly in farewell. The survivors had gathered to see them off, their blessings whispered like prayers swallowed by the fog.
Selene led the way, her cloak snapping against her legs, every muscle coiled. Her hand never strayed far from her sword, though her eyes looked less like a warrior's and more like a haunted soul retracing a graveyard.
Luna walked at Iris's side, their fingers laced tightly. Iris clung to that warmth like a lifeline, her sketchbook pressed against her chest.
The world beyond the ridge felt wrong. The trees twisted unnaturally, their bark gray as bone, their branches tangled like reaching claws. Birds did not sing here. The only sound was the crunch of their boots on brittle leaves.
"Stay close," Selene said, voice low. "The mist plays tricks."
---
Whispers in the Fog
Hours passed. The path was unclear, more suggestion than road. Sometimes the mist parted just enough to reveal a trail, but as soon as they followed, it seemed to vanish again.
Iris swore she heard whispers—not words, but fragments. A child's laugh. A woman's sigh. Her own name, breathed softly, like a lover calling her from afar.
She shivered. "Luna… did you hear—"
"Yes," Luna interrupted, her jaw tense. Her grip on Iris's hand tightened. "Ignore it. It's trying to pull us apart."
Selene stopped abruptly ahead. Her shoulders had gone rigid, her breathing sharp.
"Selene?" Iris asked cautiously.
The warrior didn't answer. She was staring into the fog, her lips moving soundlessly.
Luna pulled Iris behind her. "She's hearing something."
Iris swallowed hard. Slowly, she approached Selene and touched her arm. The older woman flinched violently, nearly drawing her blade, before recognition dawned.
"She…" Selene whispered, her voice breaking. "Seraphine was just there. In the mist. She called my name."
Iris's heart clenched at the raw longing in her tone. She glanced at Luna, who looked torn between sympathy and suspicion.
"We keep moving," Luna said firmly. "Voices or not."
Selene nodded stiffly, but her hands trembled as she adjusted her grip on the sword.
---
A Moment of Tenderness
By nightfall, they found shelter beneath a rock overhang. Luna coaxed a small fire to life with dried herbs from her pouch, though the flames struggled against the damp.
They sat close for warmth, shoulders touching. Selene kept watch at the entrance, her silhouette tense against the mist.
Iris leaned into Luna, exhausted. "It's strange. Even when I'm terrified, being next to you makes me feel… safe."
Luna smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Iris's cheek. "That's because you're not alone anymore."
Their lips met in a kiss—gentle at first, then deeper, fueled by the desperate need for comfort in a world that seemed intent on breaking them. Luna's hand slid to Iris's waist, drawing her closer, and Iris sighed into the warmth, letting herself melt into the moment.
Selene's cough broke them apart. She didn't look at them, though, her gaze fixed outward. Still, Iris caught the faintest flicker of a smile on her stern face before it vanished.
For a fleeting heartbeat, it felt like they were more than survivors—they were something whole.
---
The Illusion
The next morning, the mist grew heavier, clinging like wet cloth. Every step was harder, the air colder.
Suddenly, the fog parted to reveal a clearing.
In the center stood a house. Small, wooden, with a lantern glowing warmly in the window. Smoke curled from the chimney.
Iris froze. Her breath caught. She knew that house. It was her grandmother's cottage, the one she'd grown up in, far from this cursed land.
"Iris?" Luna's voice was sharp. "What do you see?"
"My—my home," Iris whispered, tears filling her eyes. "It's… it's real, Luna. I can see it."
But Luna saw only mist.
She seized Iris's shoulders, shaking her. "It's not real. Look at me. Look at me!"
Iris blinked, and the house dissolved into gray nothingness. Her knees buckled, and Luna caught her, holding her tight.
Selene's voice was low, dangerous. "She's toying with us. Seraphine knows how to cut deep."
---
Selene's Fracture
Later, as they rested by a dried-up stream, Selene finally spoke, her voice ragged.
"You don't understand. Seraphine wasn't always this. She was… light itself. Braver than me. Kinder than me."
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "And I failed her. I let the mist take her. Everything that's happening now—it's my punishment."
Iris's heart ached at the pain in her voice. "Then maybe this isn't punishment. Maybe it's a chance. If she still calls your name, then she hasn't let go completely."
Selene looked at her sharply, as though daring her to hope. But hope flickered anyway.
---
Toward the Heart
On the third day, the mist grew so thick they could barely see one another. The ground sloped downward, roots twisting like serpents beneath their boots. The air reeked of damp earth and something metallic—blood, faint but undeniable.
The whispers returned, louder, overlapping, until Iris couldn't tell if they came from outside or inside her head. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped her sketchbook.
Then, ahead, a faint glow pierced the fog.
Lanterns. Hundreds of them. Suspended in the air, swaying as though hung on invisible strings. But these were not like the villagers' lanterns. Their light was black, their flames twisted.
At the center of that impossible sight stood a lone figure, cloaked in shadows, her long hair trailing like smoke.
Seraphine.
Selene stumbled forward, a strangled sound escaping her lips. Luna drew her blade instantly, pulling Iris back.
But Iris couldn't move. She could feel Seraphine's eyes on her, piercing, sorrowful, knowing.
The shadows rippled. The lanterns flared.
And the mist swallowed them whole.