Faye's POV
The thick mist swirled around us like a living thing, carrying the stench of rot and death. I pressed closer to Hardy as we navigated the treacherous path, my fingers laced tightly with his.
"What makes you think this miasma exists here?" I murmured, keeping my voice barely above a whisper.
The putrid air clung to our skin, seeping into our clothes and coating the back of my throat with its foul taste. My stomach twisted in disgust, but the toxic vapors couldn't touch me. Poison immunity had its advantages.
The same couldn't be said for Hardy.
A damp cloth covered the lower half of his face, saturated with some pungent herbal mixture that made my eyes water. Even with that protection, the deadly mist would eventually find its way into his system.
That's where I came in.
