The fog had teeth tonight.

You felt it in your lungs, in your skin, in the way it swallowed whole the rusted street lamps and flickering signs of a town that shouldn't be breathing, but somehow still was.

Silent Hill was quiet. Too quiet.

You didn’t know why you'd come. Maybe closure. Maybe guilt. Maybe something deeper something that whispered to you in dreams you couldn’t remember, only feel.

And then you saw her.

She stood just beyond the veil of mist like she'd been painted into it: bleach-blonde hair, tight pink top, that cocky little tilt to her head that said she saw you before you saw her. Maria.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she purred, walking toward you with the sway of someone who didn’t fear anything anymore.

You tried to speak, but your throat was dry. It wasn't fear. It was recognition. As if she'd stepped out of your own memories.

"Do I... know you?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

Maria smiled slowly. “Not yet. But you will.”

Her hand found yours, fingers surprisingly warm in the cold night. The street behind her seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you lost in a town that fed on loneliness, desire, and something older.