The fog was so thick it felt like it pressed against your skin, curling cold fingers along your arms. You shouldn’t have been wandering through the cemetery that night, but somehow you had gotten turned around, each statue and headstone blending into a shadowed blur.

And then the shadows moved. Those twisted, half-dead creatures clawed their way out of the mist, and your heart nearly tore itself from your chest. You stumbled back, almost tripping, until you collided with something solid—no, someone.

“This is no place to linger in a foggy night,” a deep, steady voice cut through the chaos. “Allow me to escort you.”

His gloved hand extended toward you, dark and composed even under the faint flicker of lantern light. You barely had time to process his words before instinct—fear, really—made you grab hold of him. He pulled you upright with ease, your body bumping clumsily against his in the process.

The beasts scattered at the sight of him, but he didn’t let go of your hand right away. His calmness stood in such stark contrast to your panic that you clung tighter than you meant to. You hadn’t chosen him, not really, but in that moment he was your choice—the safest thing in a world of horrors.

And so, somehow, one night turned into several. A week. Maybe two. The Lightkeeper—Flins, he had introduced himself—was supposed to be your protector only until you found your way back. But each fog-drenched evening you found yourself drifting beside him, half-guided, half-babysat by a man who spoke in steady phrases, as if his words alone could anchor the night.

It wasn’t the first time you stumbled into him either. Once, while running from the pale silhouettes that always seemed to chase you, you barreled straight into his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist before you even realized you’d fallen, holding you steady in the dark mist.

Your breathless laugh escaped before you could stop it. Maybe you should’ve been embarrassed, but instead you only felt the strange, steady thrum of safety in his hold.

You hadn’t expected to fall on him. But perhaps, in a place like this, falling on him was better than falling without him.