Chapter 12: Something in the Fog
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The fire cracked low between us.
It wasn't a big fire. Just a small one—built in a ring of stones Mirelle arranged with practiced precision, nestled carefully so the flames wouldn't be seen from the woods.
A survival fire.
Enough to warm hands and boil water.
Not enough to give away our location.
Night had fallen fully now, and the forest around the stone circle was darker than I'd expected. Not the kind of darkness that came from the absence of light—but the kind that felt alive. Like the trees had leaned in closer, and the shadows had thickened with breath.
The Grand Hunt was still happening out there.
Or… what was left of it.
We hadn't seen or heard anything since that scream at the ridge. Not a rider. Not a bird. Not even wind.
Just silence.
And the fog.
Gods, the fog was thicker now.
It crept across the clearing like milk poured too slowly—clinging to the moss, licking the edges of the standing stones, and wrapping around tree trunks in long, curling fingers.
It made everything feel distant.
Unreal.
Mirelle sat across from me, sharpening her blade with rhythmic strokes. Her face was half-lit by the firelight, eyes narrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line.
She hadn't said much since we reached the circle.
Just worked.
Watched.
Listened.
She was a soldier, not a talker. But there was something grounding about her silence. A kind of presence that made you feel like you weren't entirely alone.
Claribel, on the other hand, had grown quiet for a different reason.
She sat beside me on the same stone, legs pulled up beneath her cloak, fingers curled around a cup of warm tea. Her gaze was locked on the fog just beyond the firelight, her lips slightly parted.
"I don't like this," she whispered.
Neither did I.
But I didn't say it.
I just nodded.
"Something's wrong with the air," she continued. "Can't you feel it? It's too still. Too cold."
"I know," I said. "It's the shadowfang."
Mirelle looked up at that.
"You think it's nearby?"
"I don't think," I said. "I know."
In the game, the shadowfang's aura began affecting the environment long before it appeared. The deeper into the forest you went, the colder and more silent everything became. Fog came first. Then the smell—faint, metallic, like burned iron.
Then the whispers.
Not real whispers. Just... sounds in the back of your mind. Half-thoughts. Doubts.
Mirelle frowned, setting her whetstone down.
"We shouldn't stay here long."
I shook my head. "It's too late to move now. If it's hunting us, we're safer together. Moving would just split us up."
She didn't argue.
But she didn't like it.
Later—how much later, I wasn't sure—the first sign came.
Not a growl.
Not footsteps.
A ripple.
Through the fog.
It was so subtle, at first I thought I imagined it.
Just a shimmer between two trees. A flicker, like heat haze on cold air. But it was moving. Slow. Deliberate. Circling.
Mirelle stood instantly, sword drawn.
Claribel froze, her breath catching in her throat.
I followed Mirelle's line of sight.
Nothing.
Just trees.
Fog.
And then—
Six faint blue eyes.
Blinking, slowly, from between the trunks.
Far too high off the ground to be anything natural.
I rose to my feet, heart pounding in my chest.
The shadowfang didn't charge.
It just watched.
Its body remained hidden, cloaked by the fog. But the eyes… they pulsed faintly. Not glowing, but reflecting something unseen. Like mirrors catching moonlight.
Mirelle stepped forward slowly.
I reached out and caught her arm.
"Don't," I said, voice low.
"If it attacks—"
"It's studying us."
That's what it did in the game. The shadowfang didn't strike first unless provoked. It tested its prey. It learned them. And once it understood how they moved… it vanished, only to return when the advantage was absolute.
That's what made it so terrifying.
It wasn't a beast.
It was a tactician.
Claribel whispered, "Why doesn't it attack?"
"Because it doesn't have to."
Then—just as suddenly—it vanished.
Gone.
No sound.
No trail.
No breath.
Just empty fog again.
We didn't sleep that night.
Not really.
We took turns watching the woods.
Claribel kept the fire alive, brewing bitter herb tea meant to calm the nerves. Mirelle stayed near the edge of the clearing, watching the fog with her sword always half-raised.
And I kept my hand on Calemir's hilt, eyes wide open, mind racing.
Wren's warning echoed in my head.
It won't look like an attack. But it will be.
This wasn't the trap.
Not yet.
This was the setup.
By dawn, the fog hadn't lifted.
It hung thicker now, as if it didn't care what the sun wanted.
We packed slowly. Every movement careful. Every step watched.
Mirelle didn't say anything as we left the circle.
But I could see it in her eyes now.
Doubt.
Not in me.
In the plan.
Because this wasn't going to end in a clean kill.
This wasn't a hunt anymore.
It was a test.
And someone—whether the shadowfang, or the nobles behind this mess—wanted to see what I'd do when pushed to the edge.
I wasn't sure of the answer yet.
But I knew this much:
Whatever waited in the deeper woods… it wasn't just a monster.
And it wasn't just the shadowfang.
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By Ecstasy Crown