The Strange Mist Monsters

The mist swirled thickly around the camp, twisting like tendrils of smoke under the pale light of the fire. Shadows danced at the edges of the ruins, flickering in time with the flames, their movements unsettlingly lifelike. Mikhailis leaned casually against a broken beam, his sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond. The quiet hum of Rodion's analysis buzzed faintly in his ear.

Mikhailis's lips twitched in a faint smirk as he straightened.

"Well, someone's feeling frisky tonight," he muttered under his breath, his tone light but his gaze sharp. He gestured subtly with two fingers, signaling the group to hold their positions.

Cerys, ever vigilant, tightened her grip on her sword. Her emerald eyes scanned the mist, her stance calm but ready. Beside her, Vyrelda moved with practiced precision, her blade gleaming faintly in the firelight.