The mist seemed alive.
Every time Sylvia's chains lashed out, or Alicia and Stacia's spells tore through the air, the fog only grew denser, heavier and more consuming. The once silvery-gray air turned dark, as if black ink was spilling across the sky.
The clashing of chains, the shattering of crystal, and the hiss of magic wove together into a strange symphony in that directionless space. There was no sky, no ground, only mist pressing from every side, reflecting sound, and whispering like breath at their ears.
"Stacia, behind you!" Sylvia shouted.
Her black chains shot forward, slicing through the mist and striking something solid. The fog-creature was hurled back, its trembling body shattering into black particles that dissolved into nothing.
But the more they destroyed, the heavier the world around them became. Each step dragged like wading through invisible mud, and even raising a hand felt like pushing a mountain underwater.
