The mist exploded into chaos.
Rey drew his sword in a blur of motion, slicing through the nearest nightmare. It shrieked like tearing metal, dissolving into the fog—but more surged forward, limbs twitching and bending in ways no living thing should move.
From the gloom, Rhys charged in, axe gleaming. "They're feeding off our memories!" he shouted. "Don't trust what you see!"
Arinn stood frozen. His eyes locked onto the figures lurching from the fog—their faces still wearing the masks of their parents. Twisted. Hollow. Whispering with voices laced in sorrow.
"Arinn… help us… don't let us disappear again…"
Tears welled in his eyes. He shook his head, trying to drown them out.
"You're not them!" he cried. "You're NOT THEM!"
With a burst of resolve, he lunged, driving his dagger deep into one of the figures. It convulsed, shattering into black mist. Beneath the illusion, the nightmare screamed—something hideous and half-formed—and then was gone.
Rey grinned grimly. "That's more like it. Now—let's burn this place down."
He slammed his blade into the ground with a roar. A pulse of energy exploded outward, slicing through the fog like wildfire. The mist screamed—yes, screamed—and recoiled, the illusions unraveling, the creatures dissolving into ash and shadow.
"Run!" Rhys barked.
They didn't hesitate.
They sprinted, mist tearing at their heels, chasing them with hands of memory and madness.
But then—light.
The trees thinned.
The forest's grip broke.
And the nightmare mist finally vanished.
They collapsed onto the dirt road, gasping for breath.
Arinn fell to his knees. "That… was horrible…"
Rhys wiped his blade and sheathed it. "That was a warning. Seth's reach is growing. He's not just sending monsters anymore—he's twisting the world itself."
Rey didn't look at him at first. He stared at the path ahead, jaw tight.
Then: "You almost believed it."
Arinn's face fell. "I know. But I won't again. I swear."
Rey turned to him, eyes hard—but after a moment, he nodded.
"Good."
They had survived.
But the nightmare was far from over.
Newsville was still far ahead. And Seth was waiting.
Days passed as they followed the winding road. The skies darkened. A crimson moon rose over the land like a bleeding wound, casting a sickly red glow over all it touched.
By nightfall, they reached a small village—silent and still. The houses stood like tombs, untouched by wind or warmth.
Rhys's eyes narrowed. "This place is wrong."
Rey's hand went to his sword. "Stay alert."
They moved cautiously through the empty streets. The only sound was their footsteps echoing off shuttered windows and broken stone.
Then, a voice—weak and raspy—broke the silence.
"Travelers… you shouldn't be here…"
An old woman emerged from the shadows. Her back was hunched, her face worn by years of fear. Her eyes darted about as if expecting something to leap from the dark.
Rey stepped forward. "Before what comes back?"
The woman trembled. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"The Red Widow."