Aurealis was waking up, but the city's heartbeat was uneven. Streets once bustling with early risers were now filled with cautious whispers and scattered figures, each sensing the unnatural presence in the air. Lysandre moved through the alleys, analyzing respiratory patterns on his portable device. The fog had grown thicker overnight, no longer confined to one street—it now crept like a living organism, testing boundaries.
— It's not random, he murmured, his fingers tracing the lines of data streaming across his instruments. It's intelligent.
He approached a small clinic, where patients already displayed signs of unusual distress: labored breathing, unusual pulse fluctuations, and a faint luminescence under the skin that indicated something invasive was at work. Lysandre quickly assessed them, deciding which could be stabilized immediately and which required longer interventions.
— We need to contain it, he told the attending staff, moving with surgical precision. Every second counts.
The fog responded almost instantly, as if aware of his efforts. It swirled around the building, seeping through cracks, trying to find vulnerable targets. Lysandre activated a series of runes he had prepared the night before, creating barriers of purification. Each rune pulsed in resonance with the respiratory energy of the patients, stabilizing their breaths and disrupting the fog's local pattern.
— It learns with every attempt, noted Elira, who had joined him. Its reactions are too rapid for standard containment.
— Then we must be faster, Lysandre replied. Our treatments must be perfect, precise—every breath, every pulse, every moment.
Maël arrived with reinforcements, carrying equipment for mass stabilization. Together, they coordinated teams of healers and volunteers, turning the small clinic into a command center.
— This is no ordinary epidemic, Maël whispered, his gaze following the fog as it shifted in unpredictable patterns.
— It's a war of breath, Lysandre said quietly, eyes locked on the swirling mist. And I intend to win it.
Suddenly, a gust of wind pushed the fog into the clinic's entrance. Patients gasped, but Lysandre and Elira reacted immediately, expanding the rune network and stabilizing every inhalation. The fog hesitated, then withdrew slightly, as though testing the doctor's limits.
— It recognizes us now, Lysandre said, more to himself than anyone else. And if it recognizes us… it will adapt.
Outside, the city's usual neon glow seemed dimmer, overshadowed by the oppressive presence of the Breath. Lysandre took a deep breath, steadying his pulse, and looked over the city with grim determination.
— This is just the beginning.