As Elara, Selene, and their companions ventured deeper into the mountains, a thick mist descended, shrouding the path in an eerie veil. The air grew cold and clammy, and the sound of their footsteps echoed eerily in the dense fog.
"This mist feels unnatural," Rylan muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "It's like it's trying to keep us from finding the path."
Professor Arthen nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with concern. "We must proceed with caution," he warned. "The mist may hide dangers we cannot yet see."
Elara tightened her grip on her staff, her senses on high alert. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the mist—a soft, melodic sound that sent shivers down their spines. "Turn back," it whispered, its words carrying on the wind. "This path leads only to darkness and despair."
