The mist pocket appeared exactly as described.
The land dipped between old stones and thick roots, the ground slick with moisture and low fog. Several mineral-veined rocks jutted from the soil, their surfaces catching faint starlight and reflecting it in broken shards. The trapped group of six second-years stood within the hollow, breathing hard, weapons out, spells half-formed, eyes darting in every direction.
One student had blood running down the side of his face from a shallow cut above the brow. Another girl clutched her arm, fingers trembling with Myst fatigue. A boy with flame affinity fired a burst into the mist at something that looked like a lean shape darting left.
The flame struck nothing.
A heartbeat later, something moved right.
