"Come… come… come…" The voice, soft and eerie, whispered into the twins' ears like a breath against their skin.
"Come… come…" it grew louder, a hypnotic chant threading through the silence.
Kael and Lyra rose as if pulled by unseen strings, their movements slow and unsteady, caught in a trance they could neither fight nor understand. They moved toward the door, every step heavier, every breath shallow, until their trembling hands pushed it open.
The night air rushed in, cool and damp, caressing their pale cheeks. The voice beckoned them onward, irresistible and alien.
They stepped outside and began to walk, as if guided by the myst itself. Neither noticed the other's presence, their eyes glazed and empty, lost in the calling's pull.
Around them, other children appeared from the shadows, silent and somber. Their faces were pale, their eyes hollow. They shuffled forward, drawn by the same unseen force, moving in slow, measured steps.
Parents screamed and pleaded from doorways and windows, voices raw and broken, but the children did not hear. They did not see. They belonged now to the Myst's will.
The procession left the city behind, slipping past shuttered homes and empty streets, until the pale grey fog waited beyond the outskirts — still and vast, like a hungry beast crouched and ready for its prey.
The grey fog curled and spread like a living thing, swallowing the outskirts, wrapping around the children's ankles, tugging them deeper into its embrace. The procession lengthened, a river of pale faces flowing toward the unknown.
No one resisted. No one stopped.
The night held its breath.
The Myst was hungry.
And the children walked on.
The procession grew as more children joined, shadows merging with shadows, footsteps swallowed by the whispering fog. The Myst embrace spread slowly, endlessly, as the silent march pressed onward into the unknown.
The Myst was a thick, pale grey fog that swallowed the world around it. It moved silently, like a heavy breath that never left. It smelled faintly of damp earth and something old—something forgotten.
As the children drew closer, the Myst grew denser, wrapping around them like a cold, quiet blanket. The air grew colder with every step, and the sounds of the outside world faded away, leaving only a hollow silence.
The closer they got, the more the Myst seemed to pull them in. Colors dulled, shapes blurred, and time felt strange—like everything was slowing down or stretching out. Breathing became harder, like trying to draw air through water.
Kael glanced at Lyra. In the dim light, their eyes met — hers wide but steady, his quiet but resolute. No words passed between them, but a silent promise hung in the air: whatever awaited beyond, they would face it together.
The Myst was no longer just around them; it was inside them, filling their lungs and whispering secrets they couldn't understand but somehow felt deep in their bones.
Crossing into the Myst was stepping into another world — one filled with mystery and danger, where only the strong could survive.
And tonight, the Myst was ready to claim its chosen