"Zack, have you ever heard about the being behind the gray fog?"
Little Zack looked up from the book on his lap.
His eyes were bright, and his cheeks look like a dumpling.
"What's that, Grandpa? I never heard about it."
The old man leaned back in the wooden chair.
"Legend says if you do a special ritual and chant a prayer, then the being will fulfill your wish."
Little Zack frowned, then snapped his book shut.
"Grandpa! That's from the novel I just read. Stop taking my book without my permission."
Grandpa laughed, He reached out and rubbed Zack's hair.
"I couldn't do that. How else would I learn my favorite grandson's interests?"
"What favorite? I'm your only grandson!"
Grandpa laughed again, then coughed once into his fist. He waved it off like it was nothing.
Then a bell rang coming from the front door.
Grandpa turned his head toward the sound. He sighed and pushed himself up.
"Oh? Who comes at this time. Zack, wait here."
Little Zack watched his frail back moving toward the door.
The hallway looked darker than it should have.
A weird foreboding crawled into his chest, telling him the door should not be opened.
He jumped down and ran after him.
He blocked Grandpa's path and grabbed his hand with both of his.
"Grandpa, it's already night. If no one answers, they will think we're asleep. How about we read a novel together?"
Grandpa blinked, then his smile returned.
"Oh, how could I say no to my little bookworm."
They went back to the fire and sat close together. Little Zack opened the book again and held it so Grandpa could see.
The story was about a boy who swallowed a strange seed, then woke up with a cold voice in his head calling him "host."
Grandpa chuckled at the line where the boy tried to act brave, then immediately begged for an easier path.
Little Zack puffed his cheeks. "He should stop pretending. If you're scared, just say it."
Grandpa tapped the page. "And miss the fun? A hero needs their reputation."
Little Zack snorted. "That's not reputation. That's stupidity."
They kept reading. The next part talked about a broken ring that stored an old man, and the old man kept demanding rare herbs.
Grandpa laughed so hard he wheezed. "See? Old men in rings are always greedy."
Little Zack pointed at him. "You're an old man too."
Grandpa raised both hands. "I am innocent. I never asked you for a thousand-year ginseng."
Little Zack kept flipping pages.
A different chapter talked about a city covered in fog, and people vanished when they followed strange prayers.
His fingers slowed on the paper, and he swallowed.
Grandpa leaned closer and asked. "Scared?"
Little Zack shook his head fast.
"It's just a dumb setting. Fog is just fog."
Grandpa nodded and smiled, like he believed him.
Little Zack kept talking, because Grandpa looked happy, and that mattered more than the weird feeling in his chest.
They talked about another scene, where a guy raised bugs in jars and called it a righteous path.
Grandpa shook his head. "If a man keeps jars of bugs, you should run."
Little Zack laughed, then pointed at the next page. "Look, he says he's 'refining' them."
Grandpa's smile, but his eyelids were getting heavy.
Little Zack kept reading anyway until Grandpa's hand slipped off his hair and rested on his own knee.
Grandpa fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.
Little Zack sat there for a long time, not feeling sleepy at all.
He looked at the window.
The white moon shined bright, surrounded by beautiful start.
Then the knocking came again.
Little Zack stood up and walked toward the front door.
The knocking did not stop.
He pulled a chair and dragged it over the floor.
He climbed up and peeked through the peephole.
"WHAT IS THAT!??"
He fell off the chair and hit the floor.
His face turned pale, and his hands shook as he pushed himself up.
He ran down the hallway, straight to where Grandpa slept peacefully.
Little Zack grabbed the shoulder and shook it. "Grandpa! Wake up!"
Grandpa did not move.
The knocking became louder.
Little Zack clutched his head and dropped to his knees.
Pain stabbed behind his eyes like someone was twisting a nail into his skull.
He gasped, as memories start surfacing on his mind.
He than let out a dry laugh.
"I see. So that's what's happening."
He raised his palm and touched the nearby table.
"Realize."
Nothing happened.
He stared at his hand, then let out another quiet laugh.
"Seems that's my only way out, huh…"
He looked back at Grandpa on the bed. His now mature gaze turned nostalgic.
"Grandpa, it's nice to meet you again. Don't worry. I'll keep doing my best to enjoy my life."
Little Zack smiled. He stood up and walked back to the front door.
He stopped there for a while, took a deep breath, then opened it.
CREAK!!!
Something black waited outside. It was a mass of dark pressed together like a living abomination.
Four human faces pushed out of it, young faces with sharp eyes, piercings, and messy tattoos.
"Open up, Grandpa. We just wanna talk."
"Yeah, don't be so tense. We only came to have some fun."
"You got any cash inside? Any shiny stuff? We're bored."
Don't scream. Nobody's coming."
Little Zack grabbed a kitchen knife he took before with both hands.
His arms shook, but he still dashed forward.
A black tentacle shot out.
SWOSSH!!!
It pierced through his chest.
Little Zack kept running, despite the pain.
He forced his body forward, gritting his teeth as the tentacle dragged inside him.
He stabbed the knife into the dark mass, aiming between the faces,.
The mass trembled.
The faces screamed, laughing and yelling at the same time, then the world cracked.
A thin line split the air, like glass breaking.
Little Zack's view went hazy, then snapped into something else.
Zack was floating in the air.
Dark vines bound his arms and legs.
They wrapped around his chest and throat.
He tried to pull, but the vines tightened and pulled him back.
In the middle of the fog stood a monster like a tree. It stood on its roots like legs, and its trunk was covered in eyes.
Some eyes stared at Zack, some stared at the cave, and some rolled like they were amused.
Another vine captured Celia. It was tied around her waist and shoulder, holding her like a doll.
She was still unconscious, her head tilted to the side.
Another vine lashed out at C.C.
She stood with her blade raised, her body marked with wounds.
Every time she moved in, the tree let out a creepy laugh, then yanked Celia forward like a shield.
C.C. stopped each time.
BAM!!!
The tree's vines slammed into her and whipped her back.