A low fog descended upon the brown lands surrounding the Eglain stronghold of Ost Guruth. The clouds hung dark as coal as they covered the grounds, stifling torches not a few feet away to faint glows like fireflies across a field. From the red pools to the east, a crimson mist rose and the norbog screamed with excited chatter. The wargs retreated from the open fields and orc and goblin trembled in their camps.
The mist rose over the stone walls of Ost Guruth. With creeping fingers, it clawed its way over the cobblestone paths seeking. . . seeking the prone form half-wrapped in a bedroll with her head resting in the pillow of her lover’s arm. Creeping across ankles, slithering beneath the heavy fog, the mist found a bare foot. . . an ankle. . . a milky calf. . . a hand. . . a neck. . . two parted lips. . .
For a brief moment, it swirled about her mouth. Tendrils of blood-red dipped into her nose, seeking entrance. As she took a breath, the mist delved between the rosy lips and filled her lungs with its malice. Her very blood served as the conduit to the physical world. . .