The room now throbbed with a lively energy. The spiral carved on the floor seemed to suck in the air, accelerating every exhale that left Ashen's body, faster than the preceding one. The breathing sound—an entity he thought came from a hidden being—surprisingly harmonized with his own, and the tower seemed to laugh at him.
Talia gripped her cloak more tightly. "Ashen… it's not us breathing."
Marrec raised the torch higher, the flame flickering against an invisible current of air. "I see nothing," he groaned, but his knuckles went white gripping the handle of the torch.
Ashen's gaze swept the chamber. At first, only shadows greeted him. But then the haze appeared, pooling out from the spiral, dragging itself into the air in tendrils. It wasn't like smoke or mist. It clung too heavy, like tar made weightless. The torchlight recoiled from it.
The haze slowly drifted toward them.
Marrec cursed and waved the torch rapidly. The flames pushed it back for a moment by force, but instead of scattering, they writhed like a living entity, wrapping themselves about the edge of the light.
Talia's voice shook. "It's watching us
He yearned to say that mist had no eyes, that mist contained no power of seeing, but he could not find the words. For she was not deluding herself. As deeply as his body's nerves told him that the being was aware, and it had chosen them.
The haze spiked abruptly. Not at Marrec. Not at him. But at Talia.
She let out a scream, stumbling backward as it grazed her shoulder. Ashen surged forward, seizing her arm and pulling her away from the spiraling mist. Where the fog met her cloak, the fabric started to fade to gray, its threads thinning as if decades of decay had occurred in mere seconds.
Marrec shoved the torch among them and the mist, his own face white but determined. "Out of here! Now!"
Ashen dragged Talia along with him in the direction of the stairs. Her respirations were quick, short, and he didn't hesitate to hold onto her arm. The mist slid after them, quiet but agile, clinging to walls, gliding along crevices as if it owned the tower.
The spiral's room disappeared behind them as they staggered down the spiral staircase. Ashen dared a look back—just a glance to behold the mist writhing just beyond the reach of the torch, as if waiting patiently.
They exploded into the cold night air at the base of the tower. Ashen slammed the door closed, and Marrec jammed the torch into the cleft of wood and stone. Smoke hissed as the wood scorched under the uncanny cold emanating from the other side. Slowly, that cold presense lessened. The night quieted down again.
Talia dropped to the lawn, cradling her shoulder where the mist had caressed her. Her skin was still unbroken, but her sleeve was in tatters and her arm shook as if something was moving just under the skin.
Ashen dropped to his knees next to her, battling to calm his quivering hands. "It didn't hurt you. It just… touched. That's all."
They locked onto his. "That was enough."
Marrec dropped the dead torch to the ground, falling down hard. Sweat dripped down his brow despite the cold. "We're not stepping foot in there again. Not now. Not ever again."
Ashen cast a look over his shoulder at the tower. A foreboding quiet surrounded the scene, too peaceful, too anticipatory. The spiral, the markings, and the mist that breathed forth memory after memory filled his head. His hand on the notebook clamped down harder. No," he panted, more to himself than anyone. "It's not done with us yet.".