The mist curled around Yara's legs, thick and silver as it swallowed the world around them, leaving only faint shapes of market stalls and twisted shadows in the distance.
The sounds of Silas and the elves were muffled ahead, their silhouettes barely visible through the fog. Yara tried to focus on the figures, her eyes narrowing in an attempt to pierce through the haze, but the mist was unnervingly familiar.
The same type that had separated them in this market once before.
Her pulse quickened as the memory returned—how she'd felt lost and vulnerable, surrounded by creatures she knew had nothing but vicious intentions.
She had barely made it out unscathed, and now, with Kellan's relentless pursuit, the weight of their need to escape settled heavily on her chest. They couldn't afford to be separated again. Not now.
Suddenly, something brushed her hand.
