The air grew colder with each passing moment. A frigid wind blew from the forest ahead, tugging at their clothes and penetrating what little warmth they tried to preserve.

Midhir’s hand rested on the hilt of his blade as he watched the silhouettes within the mist. “More of them,” He whispered, unable to hide the desperation in his voice. He had to resort to resonance casting to kill even a single one – and now he counted four.

“We need our weapons.” Willow shot a longing glance to her rapier. “We should fight-“

“And let the mist take Lohssa?” Alistair shook his head. “We will fight with our bare hands if we have to, but the weapons stay where they are.” He looked at Arwen. “Removing just the crystal to leave it there isn’t an option, is it?”

The girl shook her head. “They are meant to channel power through the metal. Alone, they’re useless.”

Midhir’s jaw clenched. Doubts clouded his mind as the battle played out in his mind repeatedly. No matter what, he was faced with four dead bodies, and a mist covered Lohssa. He couldn’t win – not if he stood his ground here.

His lips formed a thin line. With furrowed brows, he watched the silhouettes restlessly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

The silhouettes approached the wall of light shining brightly against the dull, silver mist. They were large wolves, albeit not particularly well fed, even the weakest, thinnest one was many times stronger than Midhir.

One of the wolves sniffed the wall of light. Deadly teeth revealed under curled lips, it slowly crawled closer to the barrier, keeping its body low. A pair of otherworldly blue eyes focused on Arwen – they glowed like torches in the dark.

A blood-freezing growl echoed in the mist. The wolf touched the wall of light with its nose. A bushy, long tail swiped the ground behind it as the wall failed to stop it.

Midhir held his breath as the wolf reeled back, letting out a loud howl. Other howls rose from both afar and near in response. The silhouettes all began to approach, slowly circling towards them, prowling in the mist.

“Alistair,” He hissed, drawing his blade, and clenching its hilt with both hands. “Take them to the airship, have her recast the resonance there.” His eyes snapped to the closest wolf. “Now!” he shouted, kicking the ground, and rushing at it.

His blade dug into the wolf’s neck as it was still howling. He pushed the blade through the thick layer of fur, into its flesh. It was more difficult than he thought it would be. The otherworldly glow in the wolf’s eyes faded as its limp body collapsed on the ground as soon as he pulled his sword.

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“Have you lost your mind?!”

Arwen’s scream echoed in his ears as he leapt over the pool of blood forming around the wolf’s corpse and rushed at the next one. He passed through the golden barrier as he rushed at his next target.

As soon as he stepped into the mist, he felt the frigid cold of the otherworld. It penetrated his clothes and flesh, freezing his very bones. The silver mist enveloped him like death’s embrace. Swirling around him, it was so thick he could barely see his own feet, let alone what was a few steps ahead of him.

He could barely hear the muffled screaming coming from beyond the wall of golden light. Arwen’s panicked screams were silenced by Alistair’s shouting. Each step he took felt like several dozen as the voices grew distant and faint so quickly.

His gaze never left his next target, which was a wolf only a half a dozen steps away from him. He dashed the short distance between them and swung his blade downwards as soon as he reached it. The wolf was focused on Arwen and the others, it was already too late when it heard Midhir’s footsteps. His blade connected with the back of its neck, digging through the fur and flesh, and only stopping when it reached bone.

Midhir didn’t hesitate as his prey yelped in pain and tried to free itself from the blade wedged in its neck. He twisted the blade, putting as much strength into it as he could until the wolf’s desperate cries came to a stop, and its lifeless body collapsed on the grass covered ground.

Was it enough? With a tight jaw and furrowed brows, he swung around, his gaze searching for the next silhouette.

His heart sank as he found his next target – or rather, his targets found him. Four silhouettes circled him, low to the ground, blue eyes focused on him. The otherworldly glow in the wolves eyes pierced the silver mist, it was the only colour he could make out.

Did they see him clearly, without the obstruction of the mist, or were they half blind like he was? If it was the latter, he had a chance – if the former… His hand touched his earring – a blue jewel with a feather hanging from it. No, he couldn’t despair yet.

“It’s a hunt, then,” he spoke, hoping their attention would be on him for a little while longer. He wasn’t sure which way was south. It was impossible to discern directions in the mist. He could only guess. Hoping to be right, he turned around and dashed.

The ground was wet and slippery, yet somehow he kept his balance. Howls echoed behind him. He could hear their steps as they rushed behind him, trying to catch up. His gaze remained in front as he tried to see something, anything.

A part of him wanted to see the wall of golden light. It was a small, selfish part of him that wanted to not be alone here. If he was running in the right direction, he would eventually end up near the airship, by the wall of golden light – if Arwen and the others made it there safely. And if Arwen was able to recast the resonance.

Both of those outcomes were unlikely, but so was his survival. He had to hope.

He heard the muffled crunch of leaves beneath his boots, and immediately after the mist grew darker, eerier. He saw the shadows of tall, thick pillars in front of him, and a canopy connecting them.

His heart sank as he realised he was looking at the forest. Fear gripped his heart as his lips drew back slightly. Eyes wide, he glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the wolves, but their howls grew ever closer. They were behind him, probably following his scent.

The hunt wasn’t over yet, he couldn’t go back.

He had little courage left to summon, but the reality of bloodthirsty wolves won compared to the danger of the otherworld. He stood no chance against the wolves, but the tear in the veil… He touched his earring.

He had a chance. No matter how small, he was going to take it.