As he walked north through the forest, Henry realized he needed to start cataloging what he knew about the mists.

Elara’s information came in fragments, always half-hidden in riddles that left him with more questions than answers. Her reliability? Questionable, at best. Yet somehow, she had come through for him when he needed it. Though the thought of cutting ties with her occasionally crossed his mind, he knew better than to abandon the only real ally he had in this twisted world. She was strange, unsettling, but—so far—on his side. He hoped it stayed that way.

As he pressed deeper into the forest, Henry tried to piece together what he knew about the mists—a mental catalog of fragmented knowledge, most of it tangled in Elara’s riddles. The mists fed on fear, that much he’d figured out. They dug into your mind, dredging up horrors that felt all too real, blurring the line between nightmares and reality. But did that mean the mists were alive? Or just driven by some twisted instinct?

The people here called it a plague, though not everyone got sick. Those who did became… infected, warped, consumed by anger and something even darker. The thought of his sister crossed his mind, her face twisted and monstrous in his dreams. Surely, if had only been a dream, right?

He had been given the Wand of Arraiza, a strange weapon that consumed the mist and created copies of the monsters. But every time he used it, he felt as if the wand was feeding on something, too. Did that make him part of the problem, just creating more creatures from his own fear? He wasn’t sure.

The villagers didn’t trust him, muttering about “witches” and curses when he passed. Did they know something he didn’t? Everywhere he went, there were monsters—Forest Flighters, Mawlings—creatures that the mist seemed to bring to life. What if it could turn his own fears real, too?

A chill settled over him. Watching Elara’s strange, unhinged behavior, he wondered if that was what the mist did over time—turned people into something twisted.

And if I stay here long enough, he thought, What’s stopping it from doing the same to me?

The forest thickened, shadows deepening as the storm above churned in gray-black waves, smothering what little light remained. Rain trickled through the branches, though the canopy spared him from the worst of it. Driven by fierce determination, he pressed onward, every step a reminder of why he was here: to find the missing child before it was too late.

As he approached a cave entrance, its jagged mouth half-hidden by wild vines and tangled roots, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him. The scene was eerily reminiscent of his first steps into this world—the cave that had greeted him when he’d first arrived. A shudder ran through him at the memory of the creatures he had narrowly escaped.

A small pond shimmered near the entrance, catching his attention with glimmers of light reflected from Elara’s faint glow.

Henry leaned over the water, catching his own reflection in its surface. For a moment, he didn’t recognize the face staring back at him. Gone was the frail, hollow-cheeked boy he’d grown accustomed to seeing. His face was fuller now, with hints of the strength he was gradually reclaiming. A subtle warmth filled his cheeks, and his blue eyes shone with an intensity that felt almost foreign.

“You’re looking more yourself already,” Elara’s voice drifted beside him like a feather on a breeze. She sounded genuinely surprised. “Or less like yourself. Which is better, do you think? More or less?”

Henry straightened, watching as his reflection rippled and blurred.

How does she know what I looked like before? He kept his gaze fixed on the water, unsettled by her words.

This wasn’t the first time she’d dropped hints about things she shouldn’t—or couldn’t—have known. Maybe she’s just guessing, he thought, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling at the edge of his mind. Or maybe she knows more than she lets on.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Elara, for her part, seemed completely unbothered by his silence. She darted about, tracing erratic patterns as her glow cast strange, shifting shadows on the cave walls. Her lights revealed faint etchings and claw marks—eerie details that sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.

He tore his gaze away from the unsettling marks. “Let’s keep moving,” he said, setting his shoulders. “We need to find that child.”

“Oh, right!” Elara’s eyes sparkled with a twisted enthusiasm that sent a shiver through the air. “I wonder if it’s going to be a Mawling or something even more… delightful. The mist is such a creative artist, weaving wonders and horrors alike.” Her voice took on a haunting lilt. “What did you think of the Forest Flighters? So gorgeous, and now they’re forever a part of you!” She grinned wider than should be possible, her lips stretching to reveal too many teeth. Spreading her arms, she grasped the tips of her wings. As she did, her eyes sank into shadowy voids, and her jaw unhinged with a sickening crack, as she flapped her wings like one of the bats. “They have such an enchanting way of flying! I’m utterly jealous.”

Henry took a half-step back, his breath hitching. What happened to her that caused her to be this way? A pang of dread sank in his stomach as he watched her twisted display. Was he destined to end up like her if he kept throwing himself into this nightmare world of monsters and mist?

He shook his head, trying to shove the thought aside, but it burrowed deeper. Back in his world, he hadn’t even begun to process what had happened—the accident, the loss, his diagnosis.

And now here he was alone, separated from family. And now the only image he could conjure of either of them was the dream.

And the way his sister’s face had twisted into something monstrous in his dreams. Maybe he should’ve stayed in his room and faced that darkness. But he knew that nightmare would have only gotten worse, consuming him from the inside out. At least here, he could do something. He could save someone.

A chill ran down his spine, grounding him in the eerie silence. The sounds of the forest had faded, as if the world was holding its breath. He turned to Elara, almost hesitant. “Elara, this isn’t… the same cave, right?”

She paused mid-air, her expression unreadable. “All caves are hungry mouths,” she whispered, her tone uncharacteristically somber. “Growling at the side of the planet.”

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “What do you mean?”

She twirled slowly, her wings scattering faint sparks of light. “Sometimes they hum. Do you hear it, Henry? The song of the stones?”

Her words drifted out, soft and eerie, and a strange intensity flickered in her eyes.

He managed a small, half-smile, though it felt hollow. “Right.”

The entrance loomed ahead, its shadows thick and inky, twisting as though they had a life of their own. The air grew damp and stale, and an unsettling scent of rot mingled with the wet earth—a metallic tang that clung to the back of his throat. It was almost enough to make him turn back, but the thought of the missing child pushed him forward. He couldn’t afford to hesitate.

Elara’s lights flickered once, then dimmed, leaving them in a murky, half-lit gloom.

“Looks like I’m running low on sparkles,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Hey, who turned out the lights?” Henry muttered, squinting into the darkness. His heart quickened as he realized how vulnerable they were without her glow. “Elara?”

But she didn’t respond. Her usual rambling was replaced by an odd quiet that settled heavily over them both.

They took a few steps deeper into the cave, the only sounds their footsteps and the quiet drip of water echoing off the stone. Shadows seemed to close in, thickening until Henry could hardly see his own hand in front of him. His breath quickened, and a feeling of dread crept in, unsettling him more than he wanted to admit. He paused, listening to the faint rustling somewhere up ahead, like claws scraping against stone.

“Caves can’t be this common, right?” he asked, hoping for reassurance.

Elara’s voice floated to him, barely more than a whisper. “These aren’t caves,” she said softly. “These are Arraiza’s many mouths. It’s how she feeds.”

He stopped cold, his heart pounding in his ears. “W-what? Are you saying this planet is… alive? And eating the people on it?”

She hovered close, her eyes reflecting the faintest glimmer of light. “Welcome to the food chain,” she whispered.

A chill ran through him. “Elara, this isn’t the time for jokes.”

She remained silent, her gaze distant.

His heart raced.

Maybe she’s as scared as I am. The thought was unsettling, hinting at something darker that even Elara didn’t want to admit.

He tightened his grip on the Wand of Arraiza, its cool surface a small comfort in the stifling dark. He’d barely had time to understand its power, and without Elara’s light, he was tempted to call on it now. But he hesitated. What if it drew something closer? Or worse, what if he lost control?

“Not much further,” Elara muttered suddenly, her voice hollow. “Just… keep moving. We’re almost… somewhere.”

Her vague reassurance did little to calm him, but he took a deep breath and continued, his senses heightened, straining to catch any hint of movement. The silence pressed down on him, thick as fog, and each step felt as if he were treading deeper into the unknown.

And then, he heard it—a faint, rhythmic sniffling sound like a child crying.

“Do you hear that?” he asked Elara, his voice barely more than a breath.