As soon as Henry made his declaration, Sarah's legs buckled, and she crumpled to the ground, her small body limp against the dirt. Henry dropped to his knees beside her, his heart pounding as he gently shook her shoulder.

"Sarah! Wake up!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. But her head lolled to the side, her breaths shallow, her face pale as death, except for blaring red lines that pulsed ominously.

Elara appeared in a burst of shimmering light, her wings flickering erratically like a moth caught too close to a flame. She hovered over Sarah, her expression darting between mock curiosity and something far darker. Henry’s voice broke as he turned to her, desperation twisting his words. "Elara, what’s wrong with her? What’s happening?"

Elara tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied Sarah like a puzzle with pieces missing. “Oh, little whispers in the mist…” she murmured, her voice soft and lilting. “How they crawl into places they shouldn’t, burrowing, biting, breaking things that weren’t meant to bend. Poor little shadow of a girl.”

Henry’s heart clenched, his frustration spilling into his words. “Stop talking in riddles, Elara. What’s wrong with her? Is it the mist?”

She glanced at him, her grin flickering briefly into something sharper. “Of course it’s the mist, Henry. It’s always the mist. Twisting, twisting—it finds the cracks in everyone, but her cracks…” She gestured toward Sarah, her hands fluttering like falling leaves. “They’re small, fragile. Easy to seep into. She’s been breathing it in, hasn’t she? Letting it sing to her, hum sweet lullabies right into her little soul.”

Henry’s chest tightened. “What are you saying? That it’s taking her? That she’s… dying?”

Elara spun in the air, her wings flaring for a moment before dimming. “Oh no, dying, no, fading though? Fading, yes. Like a candle blown too softly to notice until it’s gone. The mist doesn’t need her to scream or rage—it just needs her still. Quiet. Empty.”

His grip on the wand tightened until his knuckles turned white. “But this wand—this stupid thing is supposed to fight the mist! I’ve been protecting her! How could this happen?”

Elara’s gaze darted to the wand, her lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Ah, the shiny stick. A hammer for nails, but what about the whispers in the walls, hmm? The mist dances differently for her, Henry. She wasn’t holding the wand, was she? No glow, no shield—just a soft, sweet target.”

Her tone softened, though the glint in her eyes never wavered. “I should’ve seen it sooner. Felt the song growing louder. This... this might even be my fault. Who can say?” She let out a small, sharp laugh that cracked like glass. “But guilt’s a funny thing, Henry. You wrap it around your throat like a scarf, but the mist still loves to squeeze.”

Henry shook his head, his voice cracking as he looked down at Sarah’s pale face. “No. It’s my fault. I should’ve kept her farther away, done something—anything—to stop this. I failed her, Elara.”

Elara’s wings flared, casting flickering shadows on the ground as she floated closer. Her voice dropped low, curling around him like smoke. “Failed her? No, no. Not yet. Not unless you let the mist win. It doesn’t just want her—it wants you too. The wand doesn’t work for a mind twisted in knots, Henry. You’ll need to unwind first.”

Before he could respond, the heavy sound of boots crunching through the underbrush cut through the air. Henry whipped his head around to see the elder approaching with a group of guards, their faces grim and resolute. The elder’s sharp eyes swept over the scene, pausing on Sarah’s lifeless form before narrowing at Henry with cold disapproval.

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"Arrest them," the elder barked, his voice like a whip. The guards surged forward, drawing weapons and spreading out to encircle Henry and Sarah as Elara disappeared with a pop!

Henry scrambled to his feet, placing himself protectively between Sarah and the advancing guards. "Stay back!" he shouted, gripping the wand tightly as it began to glow faintly. "You’re not taking her!"

The elder stepped closer, his gaze falling on Sarah—and froze. His stern expression faltered, replaced by something colder, darker. He pointed a trembling finger toward her. "The marks…" he muttered, his voice suddenly tinged with panic.

Henry glanced back at Sarah and felt his stomach lurch. Deep red lines, glowing like embers, traced across her cheeks and forehead. They pulsed deeply, spreading like veins of molten fire beneath her pale skin.

The elder staggered back a step, his composure cracking. "It’s the plague's final stage," he hissed to the guards. "She’s... transforming. If we don’t act now, she’ll doom us all!"

"No!" Henry shouted, his voice raw with desperation. He moved closer to Sarah, shielding her completely. "She’s not turning into one of those things! She just needs help!"

The elder’s fear sharpened into resolve as he gestured toward Sarah. "Kill her. Now."

The guards hesitated, their weapons wavering, but the elder’s glare was like ice. "Do it!" he snapped. "Before it’s too late!"

Henry’s panic surged as the guards stepped forward, their weapons raised. The wand in his hand flared brighter, reacting to his fear and anger. "Stay away!" he roared, the light from the wand expanding in a brief, fiery burst that forced the guards to stagger back.

"Henry!" the elder shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. "If you don’t step aside, you’ll condemn us all!"

Henry’s heart pounded in his chest as he stood his ground, his trembling hands tightening around the wand. "I’m not letting you hurt her," he growled, his voice low but steady. "I’ll fight every last one of you if I have to."

Nearby, the elder drew himself up, his face hard as stone. “You’ve done what you can, boy. The mist takes what it will, and her marks are the proof. She’s gone. Every second we wait, we risk the mist consuming the rest of us.”

Henry’s fury turned into a bitter laugh that cut through the night air. “You think killing her is the answer? Like that’s going to stop the mist? Look at you—terrified of her, of me—because we’re not like you. But the truth is, none of us are safe from this. You blame us for the mist, but we’re all just trying to survive it.”

As his words echoed through the tense air, a crowd began to gather. Faces emerged from the darkness, shifting uncomfortably under Henry’s accusations. Among them was the mayor, his robes fluttering in the breeze as he joined the elder at the forefront. Henry’s fury fixed on him next, his fists clenching at his sides.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Henry shouted. “To see us cursed, hunted, because it’s easier than admitting you’re scared. Scared of the truth, scared of the mist, scared of what it’s doing to all of us.”

The elder’s expression hardened. “Enough!” he snapped. “Step away from the girl. We will deal with this—now.”

The guards took a step forward, weapons drawn, and Henry instinctively moved to shield Sarah, placing himself between her limp form and the advancing threat.

“You’re not touching her!” he yelled, his voice raw with desperation. The wand in his hand glowed faintly, responding to his fear.

“She’s already gone, boy!” the elder barked. “The marks prove it. If you leave her like this, she’ll become one of them, and then what? You think you’ll be able to stop her? You’ll doom us all!”

Henry gritted his teeth, shaking his head. “No. You’re wrong. She’s still here. I know she is.” His voice cracked as he looked down at Sarah. “I won’t let you kill her.”