MAGNUS

“There are noises up ahead. Stay alert,” my wolf, Grimm, sniffs the air and warns me.

My boots sink into unstable ground; honestly, this swamp is a pain.

Also, a solid place to hide, because the deeper you go, the thicker this nauseating fog gets.

“I think you should cover your nose. Even with my resistance, this stench is getting to me. I think it’s toxic.”

He warns me, but we’re already swallowed by the mist and, yeah, there are bodies moving up ahead.

I don’t get a chance to cover my