"Stay behind me, Mo Ran. Don't breathe that mist," Han Ye whispered. He held his arm out, shielding her as the thick, oily smoke curled under the door of their inn room like a group of living snakes.
"It's so cold, Han Ye. I can't feel my feet again," she said. Her voice was thin and trembling, the kind of sound that made his chest ache with a familiar, sharp guilt.
"I know. Just hold my hand. I'm going to get us out of here."
"Where can we go? The man in the mask is outside. I saw him."
Han Ye looked toward the window. The street below was unnaturally silent, the usual night sounds of the city swallowed by a heavy, suffocating pressure. "He wants us to panic. He wants me to run blindly. We aren't going to do that. We're going to find out where this energy is coming from."
"You're goi
