31 Days of Horror 2025: Dusk

​Legend of the Lyngshen Valleys ran as deep as the impenetrable fog that swallowed the hills peaking through. There came great risk traveling to the depths without some form enchanted arcana protection. The fog had a way of spitting out its victims with amnesia, that's if they even resurfaced after their suicidal dive into the mist. The husks that had managed to return loitered helplessly among the streets, whispering of Vindi's rage and regret. 

Only one man had boasted countless accounts of successful missions into the fog and back with his mental faculties still in tact. Vrayn had made a living for himself, scaling the hills and pulling people from its maw to deliver home. How he returned each time still in one piece was a secret he kept locked away up to his demise; lost forever when the dusk and fog wrapped their claws around him and drug him to the depths to stay. 

It was like any typical day for him. The sun beat down upon the lush verdant hills while the fog lingered just beneath like a downy blanket. Vrayn dawned his arcana tempered mask at the peak of Omyen's village and began the slow decent down the perilous path carved into the side of the mountain. The sun was chasing his back, making its own descent across the sky and casting shadows into his path.

He wouldn't typically risk a trip this late into the day. The fog grew more volatile the darker the world became around it. But the village had lost a child, a young pearl that had gone after a family pet. He would have been shamed for turning down such a quest, so off he went at a jogging pace. The quicker he dove in, the sooner he could hopefully recover the kid before the fog husked him into a shell of Vindi's sorrows. 

The fog lapped at the path before him, halting Vrayn's step momentarily. It was more viscous already, alive and hungry for a new victim. He tightened the straps of his mask and prayed to the wings to protect him before he braced and slipped under its mist. The fog clutched at his legs, slipped into his pockets, as if hunting for a weakness. He clenched his jaw and ignored it the best he could. He kept his head held high and continued on.

Only when the fog swallowed his head did his chest tighten and his heart quicken involuntarily. The visions were always the worst. They danced around him, poking him with their needle-like fingers. Wispy little things that chewed on his leather boots and weighed down his steps. In the light of day, they were practically harmless besides their looks. But the dusk was already starting to settle into the bleeding grasses, feeding their energy like a source of arcana.

Their shapes became less fluid; their chattering louder and grating on his ears. They spoke of vengeance, an unbridled rage of loss that pricked at his nerves with electric hell fire. It frayed his thoughts, brought up memories of misunderstandings that twisted in the fog as stabs in the back. He shook their images from his mind and pressed on. He had to gather the child before the sun set. 

Vrayn's foot came down upon one of the critters, sending it squealing down into the depths below. He winced at the sound it made and took more care for his steps as he continued on. The fog took on a deeper umber color and splashed up against him as he stepped down into the valley's grass. It soaked into his socks, chilled him to he core. He was too late. 

He looked up in terror. The sun had been swallowed by Omyen's shadow. He tried to turn back, to climb back up before he became the next victim of the fog. It lurched with him, wrapped its tendrils around his ankles, his knees, his wrists. He fought with all his strength, focused on the brief glimmer of lights far above the surface of the sea threatening to swallow him. 

It's hold was stronger, pulling him back into the tide with a vengeance and hunger for the one who had escaped its maw far too many times. The faces of those he couldn't save met him in the wave. Those he had found huddled in the dark crevices he never risked swimming through. They called to him, demanded answers. Every time he opened his mouth to respond, they suffocated his lungs, pulled him deeper. There was no answer for his cowardice. They wanted him to sulk in the dark as they had, to know the hopelessness he had left them in. The fog consumed him as it had them.