Unlike the rush of the other competitors, Nilla walked through the fog calmly, her measured steps echoing in the oppressive silence. Inside, however, a growing irritation boiled like water about to boil over. Every wet drop that stuck to her skin, every indistinct whisper that came from the white, was a personal insult.
"What a pathetic place!" he muttered, his tone sharp as a blade, brimming with contempt.
"A maze of wet cotton and cheap nightmares. This fog is nothing more than a cheap distraction. Who would dare test me like this?" His normally clear voice sounded muffled, swallowed by the humidity.
Despite her arrogance, the mist seemed to respond to her disdain, toying with her. The path twisted like a snake, directions were lost, and shadowy, disheveled, faceless figures appeared around her, whispering scratchy, incomprehensible words that scraped against her mind like claws.
