The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh, scorched metal, and something far worse—the festering odor of the red mist as it clung to the ruins of the street.
It swirled in unnatural patterns, shifting and curling despite the absence of wind, as though it had a will of its own.
Alister stood amidst the carnage, the crackling embers of a collapsed building casting flickering shadows across his black tech armor.
His team had already dispersed, moving through the wreckage, following his command to locate any survivors who had inhaled the mist.
Quarantine first, ask questions later. They had learned that anything exposed to that crimson fog wouldn't stay human for long.
Fenris, her armor streaked with black ichor, lowered herself into a bow, her dragon tail curling slightly behind her.
Her violet eyes, still aglow with residual lightning, were steady as she met his gaze.
"You have done well," Alister said, tapping her shoulder once in recognition.
