text: It happens in the middle of the night, in a city that never sleeps. Vehicles stopped moving on the newly paved road. Wild and tame animals alike stopped running the streets, yards, and sidewalks. The lights of several buildings went out. Streetlights fell silent. Even the river goes still, its fish burrowing into the muddy bottom and finding rest. A disturbing hush fell across Silver City, a city that now sleeps. A thick fog descends upon Silver City's land, clinging to skyscraper and two-story homes. Its source is unseen by the occupants. The group stands on the edge of the town, adjusting their gear and checking their equipment. Attached to their person is carriers for their chosen tools for conjuring magic. Each one of them has a unique instrument. The leader of the group, a short, stocky young woman with alabaster skin and red hair uses a flat-bottomed orb. She chose to follow the path of the mage, walking the ways of the oracles. Behind her, standing off to the left is a tall, muscular man with dark skin and blue eyes wields a staff. He follows the path of the warrior and walks the ways of the wielders. Finally, there is the elf. He is as short as the leader, but with sun kissed skin. He wields a deck of one hundred and four cards; fifty-two of them cast attack and defense spells. The other fifty-two tells fortunes. Like the leader, he follows the path of the mage, but walks the ways of both the oracle and the combatant. The elves pointy twitches, the tattoos on the forearm of the strongman swirl ominously, and the sphere of the leader glows in its pouch. "Magic," they say in unison. "Evil magic," the strongman says, "I've been with you two long enough to know it as good as I know the back of my hand." "As you should," the elves replies. "My sister is here, in Silver City," their leader proclaims. She clenches her fist and looks at the fog slowly forming around them. "We must find her." "I agree." She looks to the elf as he steps forward. He points out, "whatever caused this is bound to be roaming the city's shadows." "Then we'll just have shine a light." The leader takes her orb from its pouch attached to her belt. She beings to mumble an ancient poem. In our brightest days, out of our darkest souls. Bring us light to guide us. Bring us relief to ground us. By this I ask the gods to aid us. The orb glows bright and flings a field of yellow light around the group and expands until it reaches the edge of the fog. The elf moves his fingers through the air and says a similar spell, though in his people's language. When he's done, the field of light grows wider, fighting the fog. "We need to hurry," he says, "this fog will sap our power the instant it touches us." "Should we split up then?" The strong man asks. The leader nods, "I'll teleport to my sister’s home. It is but a few blocks from the city's center, so we will keep that as our meeting place. Both of you find the source of this unnatural phenomenon. Spread out as far as the city will take you." With their orders given, the elf and the strongman walk forward into the fog. The leader takes in a deep breath, steadying the shaking in her limbs. She clutches her orb and brings it to her heart. She closes her eyes and prepares for the sensation that soon engulfs her entire being. It’s a kind of trembling feeling that comes from being moved across time and space. A lot of mages can’t handle this kind of transportation but those who learn to be one with the slight discomfort are able to teleport to places they’ve been before. In her mind, the leader imagines her home as it was two months ago when she came for a holiday visit. She imagines the living room, with its vintage décor and the shaggy rug laid on the floor in front of the couch, to give comfort to her aging parents while they sit. She imagines it and believes in it, and then She vanishes. When the smoke clears and her green eyes recover from their temporary blindness, she’s in the very living room she imagined. She stands in front of the couch and is shocked to see it overturned. The two windows looking out to the lawn are shattered and the front door has been torn clean of its hinges. Several portraits that hung on the wall above the fireplace lay instead on the hardwood floor, smashed. She walks over and picks one of them up, her fingers tracing the broken glass. Her finger bleeds as it catches a sharp edge and a tear falls off her cheek. Before, when they stood outside Silver City limits, she had a premonition of doom. Something told her to come home, if only for a moment. Never had she wanted her premonition to be false. But clearly, it is not. The leader walks through to the kitchen, though nothing there seems to be disturbed. A single drawer containing knives and other sharp instruments has been left open. She walks over closes it, taking an uneasy breath. Something tells her she needs to go upstairs. Something tells her she must go upstairs. Her premonition is tugging strong towards the hallway between the living room and the kitchen. She goes, putting one boot in front of the other, stepping up the stairs and letting her hand run along the metal banister. Upstairs, she discovers her parents’ room has not been disturbed; everything is in its neat, tidy place that her mother would spend an hour everyday organizing. But her sister’s room is a disaster. She can see it in her head, the struggle. Blankets are torn off the bed, the dresser next to the window has been thrown to the floor, and the window is open. Did her sister managed to escape? She doesn’t know. But as the tightness in her chest spreads to her body, her pale lips form a single question. “Where is my sister?”