The alleys twisted and turned, like a maze designed to trap anyone foolish enough to enter. Amberine's breathing came in ragged gasps, her boots pounding against the uneven cobblestones as she sprinted forward, Maris close on her heels. The fog was growing thicker, like something alive—a dark presence that seemed to know exactly where they were going, adapting to their every move.
"Turn left!" Maris shouted, her voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps echoing off the close walls. Amberine didn't hesitate, her fiery determination pushing her forward despite the burning in her muscles. The fog was relentless, its tendrils reaching out as if trying to pull them in. Every twist and turn felt like a gamble—each new alleyway a chance to either escape or find themselves cornered.
