[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]
Matt’s heart threatened to beat right out of his chest as his arms closed around Hecate, holding her tightly against him. Carolyn huddled close to both he and Thordin, her eyes wide. Matt caught sight of a glimmer of white and blue—one of Carolyn’s sprites, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Care, have they seen anything?”
“Nothing that’s making sense based on their explanations,” she said, a thin tendril of fear threated through her voice. Otherwise, she seemed remarkably steady, her hand drifting up to touch whatever was perched on her shoulder—whoever was perched on her shoulder. “Something about singing the songs of the past.”
“That could aptly describe this wailing,” Thordin growled, peering out into the fog, his gaze scything from side to side. “Though I can’t say it reads as a song to my ears.”
It felt could and seemed to grow colder. Matt could swear he saw his breath steam, but it was hard to tell as the fog kept thickening around them, pressing in, pressing close. There was the faint sense of magic to it, but nothing that felt inherently offensive or dangerous.
That on its own was almost more unnerving than the rest of the situation.
The fog seemed to swirl around them, as if it was somehow centered on them, as if it was coming from them. It wasn’t—Matt knew that for certain—but he was equally certain that It meant something knew they were there, had maybe even been waiting for them.
Then a voice came through the fog, spectral, wavering, barely audible amidst the keening wail.