chapter 95

A scarf soaked in chaos.

The mist, white as milk, bulges and slowly floats around. It gives off a coolness and a rotten smell, as if I were again in a swamp. In height, it rises to the waist. So dense that under it you can’t see the earth or what is hidden in it.

The feeling of danger like a sticky, slimy lump enveloped the frantically beating heart and squeezes it every time any faint rustle touches the hearing. Covered in a cold sweat, peering into the white haze in the hope of at least seeing something and expecting some kind of reptile to jump out of there, I moved forward. Fear constrains movement and only by an effort of will can one force oneself to go. After all, to remain in place means to die. The counter in the corner under the hit points and mana is counting down.

The pale moon pours light around the area, somehow dispersing the darkness. All the windows are closed with massive iron shutters, and the light penetrates only through small, barely noticeable cracks. Moans and
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