The farther they went, the heavier the air became. The sun had been climbing steadily above them, but the light no longer reached them cleanly. It was as though the sky itself had begun to dim, swallowed by a slow, creeping shadow. The mist that had been no more than a faint veil at first was now thick and sluggish, crawling around their legs like living smoke.
Captain Varran raised a hand for the group to stop. The guards obeyed immediately, weapons in hand though there was nothing yet to strike.
"Stay close," Varran said, scanning the distance ahead. "The air's changing again."
Nyx frowned and glanced down. The mist had risen higher, swirling up to her knees and clinging to the fabric of her garment. "This is worse than before," she muttered, brushing at it though it didn't move. "It feels dreadful."
