Chapter 10: Trouble in the Fog

The air was thick with silence. Not heavy. Not light. Just… still.

Luna walked through the moss-covered forest trail, boots brushing past the ferns, her mind still echoing with fragments from the Realm of Memory. The silver sigil Elarion had left on her wrist pulsed faintly, a quiet thrum like a second heartbeat.

She needed quiet.

Instead, she got… a whistle?

Off-tune. Wandering. Strange.

She stopped.

There, lounging on a broken tree trunk like he owned the woods, was a boy. A bone-carved flute dangled in his hand, and his muddy boots were propped on a mossy root. His coat was long and battered, his grin even more so.

He looked up.

> "Oh, good. I was starting to think the trees were ignoring me."

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

He twirled something between his fingers—her pendant.

> "This?" he said. "Found it by a river rock. Or maybe a spirit gave it to me. Who knows. Magic's weird."

Luna stepped forward, hand glowing faintly. "That's mine."

> "Relax, moon girl," he said, and tossed it to her. "I'm not a thief. I'm an opportunist."

> "Same thing."

> "Ah, but one sounds sexier."

She caught the pendant midair with a quiet chime. Before she could answer with a glare, the temperature dropped.

The forest shifted.

Fog.

Sudden. Crawling. Silent.

Thick as smoke, cold as winter breath. The birds stopped chirping. Even the wind paused.

> "...Okay, that one wasn't me," Zeph muttered, slowly rising.

A rustling to the left.

Another to the right.

Shapes moved—robed figures, shadows half-masked by mist. Symbols glowed dark on their hoods—twisting, alive. Luna's breath caught.

The cult.

Still unseen, still unnamed… but they'd finally come close.

One stepped forward and cut his palm—intentionally—launching a dart of black blood toward Luna. She raised a light shield in time, but the blood splattered her forearm, seeping into her skin.

A mark. It burned.

> "Ugh, cursed blood? That's rude," Zeph said. Then blinked. "Wait—is that cult magic? That stuff's illegal! I should report this."

Luna, already on her feet again, launched a flame outward. The fog hissed as it parted, momentarily revealing three attackers. One of them lunged—and was caught mid-air by an invisible wall of pressure.

> "Wind cage," Zeph said casually, twirling his fingers. "Super handy for annoying people."

Another cultist dove at him with a poisoned dagger. Zeph blinked behind him, reappearing mid-spin, and kicked the man straight into a tree with a gust-enhanced shove.

> "Wow," he said. "You all seriously need hobbies."

Luna conjured a radiant burst, knocking back the final robed attacker. Her arm still throbbed where the mark had been drawn, but her focus stayed sharp.

Only one figure remained—quiet. His robe darker. His eyes… wrong.

Violet. Pale and endless.

He didn't attack.

He just spoke.

> "She has begun to awaken," he whispered. His voice was like cracked glass. "The vessel sees."

And then—he vanished.

Gone.

The fog cleared slowly, like it had never been there. The trees stood still. The birds stayed silent.

Luna fell to one knee, gripping her arm. The black mark was fading—but it wasn't gone. Something inside her had shifted.

> "Okay," Zeph said, crouching beside her. "So. That was fun."

> "You call that fun?"

> "Sure. Creepy fog. Violent strangers. Cryptic warnings. Totally my idea of a first date."

She glared.

> "Kidding. Mostly. But really—are you always this cursed, or is today just special?"

She shook her head and stood. "Stay out of my way."

> "Can't promise that," Zeph said, hands in pockets, grin returning. "You look like the kind of girl who walks into danger like it's a tea party."

> "And you look like the kind of boy who eats all the desserts and steals the spoons."

> "Exactly. We'll get along great."