The fog always came first.
It rolled down from the mountains of Baguio like a slow breath, drifting between the tall pine trees and covering the quiet roads. At night, the mist grew thicker, swallowing houses, streetlights, and sometimes even sound.
Some people in town believed the fog carried whispers.
Old folks said the mountains were alive. They said the spirits of the forest walked freely when the mist was heavy.
Laevathan Guanzon used to think those stories were just meant to scare children.
Now he wasn't so sure.
He stood by the window of his bedroom, watching the darkness outside. The glass was cold against his fingers. The pine trees swayed gently in the wind, their shadows stretching across the yard like long black hands.
Then the headlights appeared.
A van slowly entered the driveway.
Laevathan's chest tightened.
Not again.
He stepped back from the window, but his feet refused to move away completely. Something inside him always forced him to look.
Downstairs, the front door creaked open.
Footsteps echoed through the quiet house.
Then he heard his father's voice.
"Bring him out."
Theodore Guanzon spoke calmly, as if he were asking someone to carry groceries inside.
Laevathan felt his stomach twist.
Another voice answered.
His brother.
"Alright."
Lazarus.
Laevathan's fingers trembled as he moved the curtain slightly.
Outside, the fog moved slowly across the yard.
Then the door opened.
Lazarus stepped out first.
Behind him was a small boy.
The child looked no older than nine.
His hands were tied behind his back. A piece of cloth was wrapped around his mouth. Tears ran down his dirty cheeks as Lazarus dragged him toward the waiting van.
The boy struggled weakly.
His small shoes scraped against the gravel.
A muffled cry escaped from behind the cloth.
Laevathan's heart pounded loudly in his ears.
Stop them.
The thought appeared in his mind suddenly.
Say something.
But his body felt frozen.
Outside, two men stepped out of the van.
Their faces were hidden beneath caps and shadows.
One of them asked quietly, "Is this the one?"
Theodore nodded once.
"Yes."
The man handed him a thick envelope.
Money.
Lazarus pushed the boy forward.
The child stumbled.
For a moment, the boy looked up toward the house.
Toward the second floor.
Toward the window.
Toward Laevathan.
Their eyes met.
The boy's eyes were wide with fear.
He tried to scream through the cloth.
Help me.
Laevathan knew what that look meant.
He had seen it before.
Too many times.
But his hands only tightened around the curtain.
The van door opened.
Lazarus lifted the boy and shoved him inside.
The child kicked and struggled, but the men held him down easily.
The door slammed shut.
The engine started.
Within seconds, the van disappeared into the fog.
Just like that.
Like the boy had never been there at all.
Silence returned to the street.
Only the wind moving through the pine trees remained.
Laevathan stepped away from the window slowly.
His chest hurt.
His breathing felt shallow.
You should have done something.
But another voice inside him whispered something colder.
You know what happens to people who do.
He remembered another night many years ago.
Another foggy evening.
Another secret.
He had been ten years old.
Back then, his mother was still alive.
He could still hear her voice sometimes.
Soft.
Tired.
Afraid.
"Levi," she whispered one night while the rain tapped against the windows. "If anything ever happens to me… You have to promise me something."
Young Laevathan looked up at her.
"What is it?"
She held his face gently.
Her hands were shaking.
"Do not become like them."
He didn't understand back then.
But he remembered the way she looked at the forest behind their house.
Like something inside it was listening.
The next week, she died.
His father told everyone it was an accident.
But Laevathan still remembered the argument that night.
The shouting.
His mother is crying.
"Theodore, this has to stop! These are children!"
Then a loud sound.
Something breaking.
After that, silence.
The next morning, Lazarus carried a heavy bag out of the house.
Laevathan never saw his mother again.
A knock on the bedroom door pulled him back to the present.
He quickly sat on his bed.
"Come in," he said quietly.
The door opened.
Lazarus stood there.
He leaned against the doorframe casually.
"You should be sleeping."
"I was."
Lazarus studied his face for a moment.
Then his eyes slowly moved toward the window.
"You saw, didn't you?"
Laevathan didn't answer.
The silence was answer enough.
Lazarus sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Levi… you have to stop watching."
"That was just a kid," Laevathan said softly.
His voice sounded smaller than he expected.
Lazarus shrugged.
"Yeah."
Laevathan looked up at him.
"Where did they take him?"
Lazarus stared at him for a long moment.
Then he said quietly,
"That's not something you need to know."
"But—"
Lazarus stepped closer.
His voice turned cold.
"If you talk about what you saw tonight…"
He paused.
"…Father will not be happy."
Laevathan felt fear crawl up his spine.
"You understand?"
Slowly, he nodded.
Lazarus gave him a small pat on the shoulder.
"Good."
Then he turned and left the room.
The door closed softly.
Laevathan sat there in the darkness.
Outside, the fog continued to drift through the pine trees.
Sometimes the wind moved through the forest in strange ways.
Tonight, it almost sounded like whispering.
Old people in town used to say the mountains remember everything.
Every lie.
Every sin.
Every drop of innocent blood.
Laevathan looked back toward the window.
Somewhere out there, a boy was disappearing into the darkness.
And Laevathan had done nothing to stop it.
Days later, a missing poster appeared on the lamp post outside his school.
The same boy.
His photo looked back at him from the paper.
Bright smile.
Messy hair.
The words underneath made Laevathan feel sick.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHILD?
Students walked past the poster.
One of them whispered,
"Another one."
Another replied,
"This town is cursed."
Laevathan lowered his head and walked away.
The fog rolled slowly through the street again.
Thick.
Silent.
Watching.
And for the first time in his life, Laevathan wondered something that terrified him.
Maybe the town really was cursed.
But the curse wasn't the mountains.
And it wasn't the fog.
The curse…
was his family.