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Een vertaalprobleem melden
But the fog... the fog doesn’t let go. It wraps around me like wet, decaying flesh, sinking its teeth into my bones. The faces... oh god, the faces are floating in the air, grinning with mouths too wide, too empty.
As he entered, the silence was oppressive. Even his footsteps were swallowed by the fog, soundless, as if the air itself was too thick to allow noise. The farther he walked, the more he realized that something was wrong. The landscape began to twist, the shapes of the trees bending unnaturally, their branches curling like skeletal hands. The fog grew colder, biting at his skin, seeping into his bones.
Then, he heard it.
A whisper.