Night fog hung low over the valley, swallowing footsteps and the rustle of leaves. From within the mist, a pale blue glow flickered, magic fire from the elven torches carried by Alrick's scouts. The haze drifted through the silent forest, so thick and eerie even the usual chirps and rustles of small creatures had vanished. It was as if they'd all fled, hiding from whatever horror the fog had dragged in with it.
Through the stillness, Finala appeared. Her wings trembled as she touched down, the air around her still humming from the teleportation spell Glen had cast to send her here.
But the forest she landed in didn't feel right. It was too quiet. Too dark. She couldn't see a damn thing.
She swallowed hard, trying to scan her surroundings. Nothing. Just silence. And dread.
"What the hell kind of place did he send me to?" she muttered, cursing Glen's teleportation.
