Slightly behind him, all of the Korporal’s senses were peeled for danger over the course of their long walk. The silence sank in heavy and muffled, claustrophobic as the Mist closed in around them. Some low worry buzzed in his head as he wondered how Siri might be adjusting to the Mist—and how Lex was faring in the field—but with another burst of effort, Rictor made himself press those thoughts aside.
The wind whistling through the crumbled pillars was the main sound around them, a high and haunting peal that sounded like a hume wail. The effort of remaining so focused was starting to take its toll, fraying Rictor’s nerves at their edges; he kept an eye on the murky shadows moving in the middle distance, waiting for something to happen. The emptiness and fog was far more unnerving than a teeming, dangerous battlefield could be. Rictor’s grip was tight on the gunblade, almost wishing they could be facing a wave of monsters. That would be simpler, easier.
“If we head towards—” he began, but an ominous creaking underfoot interrupted him as the stone started crumbling and giving way beneath the person beside him.