The fog thickened around them, its eerie tendrils creeping along the ground, wrapping around the legs of soldiers, horses, and even the trees themselves. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, as if it was weighed down by an unnatural force. James' heart beat steadily, but he could feel the oppressive magic pushing against his chest, threatening to engulf him.
His gaze flickered through the mist, searching for the source of the whispers. They echoed from all directions, carried on the wind like a haunting lullaby. His instincts screamed at him to stay focused, but something about the melody felt irresistible, a beckoning call from deep within the fog.
"We have to stay together," Yori whispered fiercely beside him, her hand gripping her staff tightly. "The dark fae are playing tricks on us."
