Story 943: Whispers in the Fog

The air was thick with decay as the group trudged through the abandoned rail yard, where twisted metal and shattered train cars littered the tracks. A dense fog rolled in, swallowing the world around them, muffling their footsteps. Mira clutched the Cursed Book tighter against her chest, feeling its pages shift as if breathing.

“We’re being watched,” Zara muttered, gripping her daggers.

Draven exhaled, shotgun at the ready. “We’re always being watched.”

A faint, metallic whistle echoed in the distance, low and haunting. It sent a shudder through Mira’s spine. They weren’t alone.

Elias knelt by an overturned train cart, running his fingers through the dirt. “Tracks lead inside.” He nodded toward the derailed train, its doors hanging open like a gaping maw. “Whoever—or whatever—was here went in.”

A hiss of wind slithered past them, carrying whispers. Not words, just…sounds. Breaths. Murmurs. Half-formed thoughts.

Zara stepped back. “That’s not wind.”