The haze does not burn.
It does not sting.
It does not choke.
It settles.
Soft as breath.
Light as mist.
That is what makes it terrifying.
Aurora feels it the moment it spreads, an almost imperceptible weight pressing down on the edges of thought. Conversations falter mid-sentence. Laughter drops half a note lower. Hands hesitate before reaching for one another.
Fear without source.
Suspicion without evidence.
Kade grips her arm lightly. "It's not poison."
"No," she murmurs. "It's suggestion."
Her Mark flares brighter, gold cutting through the silver haze in expanding waves. Where her light touches the mist, it thins, but not completely.
This was designed for resilience.
For endurance.
For crowds.
A human mother stumbles backward, clutching her child. "What is this?" she demands, voice trembling.
A wolf near the well growls low, eyes flicking suspiciously toward the coven healers.
There it is.
The first fracture.
Aurora steps forward into the center of the square.
