[Emma's POV:]
The air throbbed with panic. Even without looking, I could feel it—sharp breaths, scraping steel, the frantic thud of feet shifting in the fog-drenched grass.
It had been an hour since we left the ceremonial hall. Out here, the fog still clung to us like a wet blanket, swallowing shapes and sounds whole. We knew the direction of the exit—William had ensured that—but every step toward it was met with another obstacle crawling out of the mist.
"Gah! Need help!"
Warren's shout cracked through the haze. He'd barely lifted a finger until now, yet three goblins had carved into him from the left.
I shifted my weight, extended a hand, and murmured a chant. The glow wrapped around his arm, knitting skin and sealing blood as cleanly as tying a ribbon.
"Thanks…" he panted, shoulders trembling.
"There is no end to this!"
