[Mong00se]

Malice's first instinct was to punch back, but as he looked around, he could tell that he would not prosper in this fight with brute force alone. The smoke lay dormant, covering the field like a blanket. Trying frantically to free the smog that encroached on him, Malice pushed outwards at both sides of his body, pushing the smoke free through a small burst of air. Just like the foul ranks of the demons, the smoke returned and covered over the space that had just been cleared, as if swallowing the air and bringing plague about the world.

Malice breathed in slowly, clear air. The wind goddess was protecting him, giving him a fighting chance in the brutal haze. Again he breathed in, savouring the clean air as it danced down his dry throat. He tried to clear the smoke once again, and once again the smoke lingered back into its undefiled ranks. Try after try he cleared the smoke, forcing all his energy into stalling the foreboding fog from advancing and obscuring his vision. Each time he was met with failure. Becoming increasingly frustrated, Malice continued sending blast after furious blast of wind forward only to be swallowed and forgotten in the fog. Each new blast was instilled with ever-increasing frustration.

'There is nothing you can do, Theirian Mage. Your efforts are futile,' came a voice through the fog.

Malice cleared the path from which eminated the voice, but to no avail. The voice echoed through the fog as the ripples of air pierced its hide. A shrill laugh attacked Malice through the fog that was now stinging Malice's eyes.

'You see boy, you are no match for the fog. And it is in this fog that you will meet your untimely death,' said the voice once more. 'And you will rest in its bowels as you are forgotten by those you love.'

The voice laughed again, a haunting laugh that resonated all around him. As Malice focused on the source, he was jarred forward by a large boot. Sprawling forward, he met dirt. Sensing another attack, Malice pushed air towards the ground, sending his feet over his head, rolling into a flip. He landed on the ground just as the same large boot smashed into the earth where he'd just lay. At that moment, the sound of a large conch shell split the silence. This was the signal to fall back to the castle.

'You've won this round,' said Malice into the fog, trying not to show just how relieved he was. 'But rest assured, I will be back.'

He bolted upward on a thermal until he was free of the fog. The sun met his gaze and he winced, his eyes unattoned to the light. He saw the party, Titania included, running back to the castle, fending of the demons that persued. Malice glided gently back towards the castle, enjoying the feel of the free air against his eyes, and wondering what news would come from the General, and how he planned on lifting the fog that held the battle at a stalemate.

And throughout the night, as both sides planned the strategies for the coming dawn, the fog lingered, a cadaverous foresight of the pandemonium to come.