Ryan took a small step back, barely more than a shuffle but the others reacted instantly shoulders tightening, feet shifting, eyes widening. It was as if fear moved through them like a shared breath. Then, without speaking, they all turned at once and broke into a full sprint.
The gate should have been close,Ryan could've sworn it was only a dozen strides away when they started running. But now it seemed to drift backward with every frantic step, sliding farther into the fog as though the village itself was stretching, reshaping, refusing to let them go.
The mist thickened around them, swallowing the path, clinging to their clothes, turning the air cold and wet in their lungs. Ryan's heartbeat thudded in his ears, loud enough to drown out everything until Josh risked a glance over his shoulder.
Josh's breath hitched. Then he let out a high, panicked scream that cracked in the middle, sharp and terrified.
Ryan didn't need to look to know why.
The villagers were chasing them.
Their footsteps pounded against the cobblestones,too many, too fast. Their laughter rose behind the children, warped and breathless, like a chorus of broken voices trying to mimic joy. The sound crawled up Ryan's spine, pushing him to run harder even though his legs already felt like they were turning to water.
The fog kept thickening. The gate kept slipping away.
And the villagers kept getting closer.
Then, without warning, the villagers stopped.
Their footsteps cut off all at once, as if someone had pressed a mute button on the world. The laughter died mid‑breath. Ryan couldn't even hear them breathing anymore. They just… stood there, frozen, staring past the children into the thick wall of fog ahead.
Ryan skidded to a halt, chest heaving, legs trembling beneath him.
"What—why did they—" he tried to say, but the words tangled in his throat and refused to come out.
He turned to check on the others.
His stomach dropped.
Sylvie lay crumpled on the ground, her hair fanned across the cobblestones. Mika was beside her, eyes shut, face drained of color. Josh had collapsed forward onto his hands, unmoving except for a faint, involuntary twitch in his fingers. Bran was flat on his back, arms at his sides, as if someone had carefully placed him there.
All of them were unconscious.
"Guys?" Ryan whispered, his voice cracking. He reached toward Mika's shoulder, but his hand shook too violently to make contact. He pulled it back, fingers curling helplessly.
A cold breeze slid past his ear.
Ryan froze.
Slowly because something deep inside him begged him not to but he lifted his head and looked toward the fog.
Two eyes stared back at him.
Not human. Not animal.
A deep, unnatural purple, lizard‑like and unblinking, glowing faintly through the mist like lanterns submerged underwater. They didn't shift. They didn't narrow. They simply watched him, steady and patient, as though they had been waiting for this exact moment.
Ryan's breath hitched. His knees buckled beneath him.
The fog thickened, curling around his ankles, his arms, his face. The world tilted, sliding sideways like a painting slipping from its frame. The purple eyes grew brighter, filling his vision, swallowing the edges of everything else.
And then his sight collapsed into darkness.