The mist stretched endlessly before them, thick tendrils swirling as if alive. The trees lining the path were mere silhouettes, their gnarled branches clawing at the foggy void. Mikhailis sat atop his horse, gazing out at the ghostly expanse with a raised brow. He let out a low whistle, his voice breaking the eerie silence.
"So, we've come near the Kingdom of Mist of the East, Serewyn..." he murmured, his tone equal parts curiosity and amusement.
Cerys, riding slightly ahead, turned to glance at him, her red hair catching what little light filtered through the mist. Her expression, as usual, was serious, though her voice softened as she explained.
"The mist here is a natural phenomenon. It's said to be born of the ancient magic that flows through the land. Towns and villages use wards to keep it at bay, but the roads and forests…" She gestured toward the dense fog.
"They're left to the mercy of the mist."
Mikhailis smirked.
