The Stranger in the Mist

"The mist is never empty. Something always watches from within, waiting for the moment you stop looking."

— Graven Town Folklore

Ellie's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Joey. His small hand was still pressed against the fogged glass of the window, his wide, glassy eyes fixed on her. He looked calm—too calm—and that scared her more than anything else.

"What do you mean, Joey?" Ellie asked, her voice trembling. "What do you mean we have to go?"

Joey turned back toward the window, his voice barely above a whisper. "The altar is calling. It said we have to go before it gets angry. If we don't, it'll come here."

Ellie's chest tightened. "Joey, you're not listening to it, are you? You can't listen to it!"

Joey turned back to her, his expression eerily serene. "It's not bad, Mom. It's just… lonely."

Ellie felt a chill run down her spine. "Joey, listen to me. You're staying here. You're not going anywhere near that lake. Do you understand me?"

Joey didn't answer.

Ellie grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him gently. "Do you understand me?"

Finally, Joey nodded, but the faraway look in his eyes didn't fade.

Ellie knelt in front of him, her voice softening. "Joey, I need you to promise me. No matter what happens, you stay inside. Don't go near the lake. Don't listen to the whispers. Can you do that?"

Joey hesitated, then whispered, "Okay."

Ellie hugged him tightly, her heart aching. She didn't believe him—not completely. The lake had a hold on him, and it was growing stronger with each passing minute.

And she knew there was only one way to break it.

She had to go to the altar.

The Mist Thickens

Ellie waited until Joey had fallen asleep before grabbing the flashlight and heading downstairs. Her hands trembled as she zipped up her coat and slipped on her boots. She didn't want to leave Joey alone, but she couldn't risk taking him with her.

The house felt heavier than usual, as if the walls were pressing inward. The whispers had quieted, but she could still feel their presence, lingering just beneath the surface.

She stepped outside and immediately felt the chill of the fog wrap around her. It was thicker than it had been all day, swirling in slow, deliberate patterns. The trees at the edge of the yard loomed like shadows, their branches clawing at the air.

Ellie's flashlight barely cut through the mist as she made her way toward the path Garrett had mentioned. She didn't know exactly where it was, but something deep inside her seemed to pull her in the right direction.

The forest swallowed her whole, the fog tightening around her like a cocoon. The further she walked, the quieter the world became. Even the sound of her own footsteps seemed muffled, as though the fog was absorbing the noise.

And then she saw it.

The path.

It was narrow and winding, barely visible beneath the tangled roots and fallen leaves. The trees on either side leaned inward, their branches forming a canopy that blocked out the moonlight.

Ellie hesitated for only a moment before stepping onto the path.

The Stranger

The deeper Ellie went, the colder the air became. Her breath puffed out in clouds, her fingers numb even inside her gloves. The flashlight beam wavered across the ground, revealing more of the strange claw-like scratches on the trees.

The path twisted and turned, leading her deeper into the forest. She had no idea how far she'd gone or how much time had passed. The fog seemed to thicken with every step, and the whispers began to return, faint but insistent.

"Ellie…"

Her name drifted through the air, carried on the mist like a song.

"Come to the water."

Ellie's heart raced, but she kept moving. She told herself it was just the lake trying to scare her, trying to make her turn back.

And then she heard it—footsteps.

They were faint at first, barely audible above the sound of her own breathing. But they grew louder, closer, until it was clear they were coming from somewhere behind her.

Ellie froze, her grip tightening on the flashlight. She turned slowly, the beam of light cutting through the fog.

There was no one there.

The footsteps stopped.

"Hello?" Ellie called, her voice trembling.

Silence.

She took a cautious step forward, her flashlight sweeping the trees. "Is someone there?"

And then she saw it—a figure standing in the mist, just at the edge of the flashlight beam.

It was tall and thin, its features obscured by the fog. For a moment, Ellie thought it was Garrett, but something about the way it stood—too still, too rigid—set her teeth on edge.

"Who are you?" Ellie demanded, taking a step back.

The figure didn't move.

Ellie's pulse thundered in her ears as she turned and started walking faster, her footsteps quick and uneven. She didn't dare look back, but she could feel it following her, its presence pressing against her like a shadow.

The whispers grew louder, overlapping and echoing in her ears.

"Ellie… come to the altar… come to the water…"

She broke into a run, her flashlight bouncing wildly as she stumbled over roots and rocks. She didn't know where she was going, but the path seemed to pull her forward, guiding her deeper into the woods.

The footsteps behind her grew louder, faster, matching her pace.

Ellie's breath came in ragged gasps as she burst into a clearing. She tripped and fell to her knees, the flashlight skidding out of her hand and landing a few feet away.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Ellie scrambled to her feet, grabbing the flashlight and spinning around. The figure was gone.

But the whispers remained.

"You're so close…"

Ellie turned back toward the clearing, her heart pounding.

In the center of the clearing was a small, crumbling stone altar. It was covered in moss and lichen, its surface carved with strange, unreadable symbols.

The whispers swirled around her, louder than ever.

"Come closer."

Ellie took a step forward, her legs trembling. She didn't want to move, but something deep inside her compelled her to.

And then she heard it—Joey's voice.

"Mom?"

Ellie spun around, her heart leaping into her throat.

Joey was standing at the edge of the clearing, his small figure barely visible through the fog.

"Joey!" Ellie cried, running toward him.

But as she got closer, she realized something was wrong.

Joey's eyes were glassy, his face pale. He wasn't holding his dinosaur. He wasn't even moving.

And then he smiled.

"It's too late," he said, his voice soft but unnatural.

Ellie froze, her blood turning to ice.

The whispers erupted into a deafening roar, and the fog closed in around her.