Marin stumbled back toward the street, trying to put distance between herself and the silver-eyed stranger. But the fog seemed to thicken, swallowing everything familiar. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to scream for help—but she couldn't. She couldn't tear her eyes from him.
"You don't understand," he said, his tone soft but firm. "There are things in this town, things in your life, you've been blind to. I've been watching, waiting… for you."
Marin's stomach twisted. "Why me?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.
"Because you have the choice," he said, stepping closer, his presence wrapping around her like the fog itself. "You can walk away, pretend this never happened… or you can face it. Face me. Face what you are."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. What he said made no sense, and yet a strange resonance hummed in her chest. Something ancient and deep, calling to the part of her she didn't know existed.
"You're… dangerous," she said, almost a whisper, though the words tasted of both fear and fascination.
"And you're drawn to it," he said softly, his silver eyes glinting under the streetlamps. "Because you are not like the others. You never were."
For a long moment, Marin just stared, unable to speak. The fog swirled around them, hiding the world and leaving only him. Only the danger. Only the impossible pull between them.
Finally, her voice came out barely more than a breath. "Then… what happens now?"
He smiled—not cruelly, but with a strange, magnetic gravity. "Now?" he said. "Now… you decide if you're ready to see the truth. And there's no turning back after that."