you shouldn't be out here.

the joke of it is, that's exactly what enzo said before you left the common room. "this is a terrible idea," he'd said, grinning like it was his favorite kind.

now that warmth feels like a distant memory.

you're not sure when the fog rolled in, but it's thick enough to swallow sound. footsteps. breathing. one moment the group was ahead of you, a mess of silhouettes and low chatter. the next—

silence.

you stop. turn. nothing but grey.

"...guys?"

your voice comes out smaller than you'd like. it disappears into the mist like it was never there.

not because of the pet name—though that's weird enough—but because you didn't hear footsteps. didn't hear breathing. didn't hear anything until the words were already settling into the space beside you.

you turn, slow.

a figure stands at the edge of the treeline. tall. cloaked. the moonlight catches the silver of a mask before the shadows swallow it whole.