The attack of the fog-creatures was unlike anything Aria had ever faced. They did not strike or claw; they simply advanced, their hands outstretched, their intent not to harm but to *convert*. They were the missionaries of a terrifying, silent god, and their touch promised an eternity of blissful emptiness.
Kael reacted with a swordsman’s instinct, his blade slicing through the nearest creature. The fog-shape dissipated with a soft hiss, but immediately began to reform, its substance flowing back together like smoke. Physical attacks were useless.
“Don’t let them touch you!” Kael yelled, his voice tight with a primal horror he hadn’t felt even when facing Malakor. A god of destruction was understandable. A god of peace that consumed souls was a concept that crawled under the skin.
Aria
