A/N: Hmm… Not sure what I wrote here, but it’s pretty short. Could be useful for something in the future though. I just decided to write what was in my head.

Anyways, enjoy.

Running through the dead of night, a solitary figure makes his way through a forest, the moon lighting the way and reflecting off of the night mists in an ethereal dream.

Fuck. Fuck! Fuck-ity FUCK! It wasn’t meant to happen like this. It was supposed to be an easy job. Nobody was supposed to die! Billy. Bob. Mark. All DEAD! With ragged breaths, he struggles through the dense foliage, caring not where his path lay.

A group of men in hot pursuit can be seen clamoring in the same direction moments later. The glint of steel and gleam of well worn wood can be seen in the dancing torch light. The baying of hounds guide the group of 12 through the dense undergrowth towards their quarry.

As both the hunter and hunted near the heart of the forest, the mists grow steadily thicker, soon concealing all. The sounds of pursuit becomes muted within the mists leaving little more than the orange glow of torches to mark their progress.

“Halt!” A well built man calls the party to a stop. “We go no further than this. Turn back. What lies ahead is no longer within the realm of man.”

Not seeing the danger in their ignorance, several younger members voice their objection.

“But why Sam?”

“He’s so close!”

“With a few more minutes, we would have caught up to him!”

“SILENCE!” Sam’s tone brooks no argument. The sounds of both hound and man cease at his outburst. Cold and merciless, he narrows his eyes whilst sneering at the greenhorns.

“Do you know what these mists are? Do you know the darkness that lurks within? Many men have ventured into its depths in their folly. Many men far greater than I. None have made it back. If you are wise, you will turn back and return to the village, same as I. There is no use following that man now. The mists have claimed him, as they you if you are fool enough to follow.”

Without a word, he grabs the collar of the nearest hound and begins the trek from whence they came. Coming out of their shock at Sam’s outburst, the veterans round up the remaining hounds and turn to follow the receding glow of torchlight. Staring off into its depths another moment, the greenhorns hesitantly follow behind their elders.

Deeper within, the hunted continues to flee. The surrounding mists forming and breaking vague images, nightmares and dreams alike.

I should be safe now. They can’t possibly track me within this thick fog. I need to get out of here. But then what? They’re dead.

...who’s dead. I can’t remember their names! F-fuck. What did I run in here for? Who was I running from! Why was I running!

Wait.

Who am I?!?

Getting progressively panicked, the solitary figure falls to his knees and begins to moan at his loss, his irrevocable loss. Of what had been. Of what could have been. His very being.

Silencing his wails, a sudden calm washes over him and he peers into the folds within the curtain of fog.

I- I have… I have what?

Nothing.

But I must go.

No.

I have to go. Into the mists. It, calls me. Beckons.

I must go.

As his eyes glaze over, the lone figure rises to its feet. No longer fleeing, it continues on into the depths of the mist.

P.s. While I may be taking a step back from Genesis to figure out how I want to proceed with the story, I’ll still be making experimental chapters until I’m ready to post so expect at least 2-3 decent ones in quick succession when it updates.