Sun Shadow

The air in the Mists is heavier than I expected. It clings to my skin, damp and cold, and the faint, otherworldly glow that suffuses the fog makes it hard to tell where the ground ends and the sky begins. We've been walking in near silence, the tension between us growing with every step. The sound of our footfalls, muffled by the fog, feels too loud, like an intrusion in a place that doesn't welcome us. Every breath I take feels like I'm inhaling the weight of this place, like the Mists themselves are alive and watching.

I can't shake the feeling. Something's coming.

"Blade," I say, my voice cutting through the uneasy quiet.

She turns to me, her expression sharp, as always. "What is it?"

"Something's coming," I tell her.

Her eyes narrow. "How do you know?"

I hesitate, unsure how to explain. "I just… do."

Before she can press me further, Sol speaks up. "It's probably his mark."

"My what?" I ask, startled.

Sol exchanges a glance with Blade, who shakes her head. "There's no time to explain," she says, her voice clipped, her focus already shifting to the Mists around us. I can tell she's trying to assess the threat, but there's an edge of tension in her movements that wasn't there before.

"There," Hound whispers, pointing into the Mists.

We all turn to look. At first, I see nothing but the swirling fog, but then the shapes emerge. Tall, elongated figures, their forms shifting and stretching as if they're made of the Mists themselves. They move unnaturally, their proportions warped and wrong, and their faceless heads seem to turn toward us in unison.

The sight sends a chill down my spine. My scars throb beneath my robe, the word "RUN" burning in my mind like a beacon, urging me to act before it's too late.

"We need to move," Blade says, her tone calm but urgent. She's already stepping back, her hand on the hilt of her blade, though I can see the calculation in her eyes—she knows we can't fight them.

Grey steps forward, pulling off a glove that I hadn't even noticed he was wearing. On the back of his hand is a scar in the shape of a perfect circle. He glances at it for a moment, his brow furrowing, before speaking.

"There's a river to the east," he says, his voice steady. "We'll be safe there."

The others don't question him. They simply start running, and I follow, my mind racing. I don't question why I feel so much faster than them. Their forms are ahead of me, and yet, I hear their footfalls behind, their breaths mingling with the damp fog. Their voices seem distant at first, then merge into one—a voice I know far too well.

"Not fast enough, meat."

The words claw at my mind, tearing through my focus. I push harder, my steps pounding against the uneven ground. I taste every thud of my heart, every pulse that drives me forward. My body knows what to do, and I obey it blindly. The rocky terrain beneath my feet blurs as I keep my gaze fixed on the faint glimmer of water ahead. I have to reach it. I have to make it.

The others' forms flicker in and out of view, their movements distorted by the Mists. I see them ahead, running faster than I thought possible, but their voices grow louder behind me. The sound twists in my ears, warping into that same guttural tone.

"Not fast enough, meat."

I bite back a scream, my focus narrowing to the rhythm of my steps. My feet hit the ground, one after the other, each step a desperate bid for survival. The reflection of the river's surface grows brighter, tantalizingly close, yet impossibly far. I can barely think, my mind consumed by the primal need to move.

The fog grows thicker, and for a moment, I lose sight of the glimmering water. All I see is the ground beneath me, uneven and treacherous, and the flickering forms of my companions—or at least, what I think are my companions. Their shapes twist and stretch in ways that make my stomach churn. Are they really ahead of me? Or are they behind?

Then, with a sudden lurch, my foot lands on nothing. The expected solidity of the ground is gone, replaced by weightlessness. The shock jolts through me as I plummet forward, the sound of a splash breaking the oppressive silence. Cold water envelops me, shocking my senses and snapping me out of my trance.

I thrash for a moment, my mind reeling as I process what just happened. I've reached the river. I made it.

Gasping, I manage to turn myself upright, the current tugging at my legs. The water is colder than I imagined, biting into my skin, but I'm too relieved to care. My heart still pounds, but relief begins to seep in. I'm safe. At least for now. I look around, searching for the others, and my breath catches.

They're behind me, still running. I see them clearly now, their forms cutting through the fog as they hurtle toward the river. Beyond them, the elongated figures are closing in. The sight sends a fresh wave of fear coursing through me. The figures move faster than before, their inhuman shapes stretching unnaturally as they chase my team.

"Hurry!" I scream, my voice raw and cracking as it echoes across the water.

I can see the desperation in their movements, the way their bodies strain against the pull of exhaustion. Blade is at the front, her determination unmistakable. Hound glances over her shoulder, her amber eyes wide with fear. Sol stumbles but catches himself, clutching his book tightly as if it's the only thing keeping him upright. Tin and Grey bring up the rear, their steps synchronized, their faces grim.

The figures in the Mists grow closer, their distorted limbs cutting through the fog like blades. One of them lets out a sound—a low, inhuman wail that vibrates through the air, freezing my blood. It's the first sound they've made, and it's worse than I could have imagined. It's not just a noise; it's a feeling, a vibration that seems to pierce through my skin and settle in my bones.

The river's current tugs at me again, and I realize I'm drifting farther from the shore. My muscles ache as I fight to stay in place, my gaze locked on the approaching figures. The word "RUN" burns in my mind, brighter and louder than ever before. But this time, it's not for me. It's for them.

"You can make it!" I shout, the words tearing from my throat. "Don't stop!"

The distant figures of my team draw closer to the river's edge, their forms more distinct now. Blade reaches the water first, plunging in without hesitation. The splash sends ripples through the surface, breaking the eerie stillness. One by one, the others follow, their movements frantic but purposeful. The elongated figures hesitate at the river's edge, their faceless heads tilting as if in confusion.

For a moment, I think we might be safe. But the figures don't retreat. Instead, they stretch, their limbs elongating even further, reaching across the water with unnatural grace. My relief turns to horror as I realize the chase isn't over.

"Keep going!" Blade yells, her voice cutting through the chaos.

The current pulls me downstream, the icy water numbing my limbs. I force myself to swim, my breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Ahead, the river bends, disappearing into the fog. I can only hope it leads us somewhere the figures can't follow.

All I can do is run, even in the water. Run and hope.