The shadows didn't slow down. They didn't hesitate. They kept pouring out of the mist the way a river breaks through a cracked dam, one after another, shapes twisting and stretching as they sprinted toward me. Some dragged long, claw-like arms behind them. Others hunched low, bodies jittering like they were barely holding their form together.
My legs were shaking. My breathing was ragged. The weight pressing down on me grew so heavy it felt like someone was trying to fold my spine in half.
Still, I lifted the sword.
The next shadow lunged.
I swung through it with a harsh whoosh. The blade carved the figure apart, and the pieces dissolved before they touched the ground. Another came from behind, silent except for the faint hiss of its form shifting. I pivoted, the motion stiff and dragged down by gravity, and cut it cleanly across the middle.
The mist burst outward around me like ink in water.
