Page 3 of Crown of the Mist

That makes my heart stutter. My fingers dig into the bear's fur until I feel threads pop. Mom wouldn't leave me. She wouldn't.

"You think this is easy for me?" Her voice drops, heavy with something that sounds like grief. "I can't stay here, Kevin. I just can't."

I climb off the bed and tiptoe toward the door, my socks silent on the worn carpet. The crack of light from the hallway cuts across my room, just enough to see the tear in my bear’s ear. I fixate on it, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes.

The front door slams, shaking the walls. Then everything goes quiet.

"Mom?" I whisper, my voice trembling. My legs feel heavy as I inch toward the hallway. "Mommy?"

Dad's voice explodes again, cutting through the stillness. "Damn it, Claire!" He throws something—I don't know what—and the crash makes me jump. "You're gonna regret this!"

I run to my window, pressing my hands against the cold glass. Mom's figure cuts through the darkness below, moving so fast she's almost running. Her longdark hair streams behind her like a flag of surrender.

"Mom!" I bang on the window, but she doesn't look back. "Mom, please!"

She reaches the corner where the streetlight flickers, that broken one that never seems to work right.

For a second, she pauses.

And I think—I hope—she’s going to turn around.

But then…

A faint glow halos her figure—soft, almost like moonlight—just for a breath of a second.

I blink.

And she steps into the shadows.

The night swallows her whole.

One moment she’s there, and the next… nothing.

Empty sidewalk. Yellow lamplight.

I shrink back from the window, clutching the bear to my chest, and slide to the floor. My knees hit the carpet as the first sob breaks free, and I cry into its fur until my chest hurts.

I wake with a start, gasping for air like I've just surfaced from deep water. My chest feels heavy, and the ghost of my mother's retreating figure lingers behind my eyes. The apartment is silent, but it doesn't feel empty. The mist is here, just like it always is after these nightmares. Thesememories.

It clings to the floor, faint and formless, lingering at the edges of my vision. I sit up, rubbing my face, and glance at the corner where it's gathered. "Not now," I mutter. It doesn't move, just hovers there like a silent observer.

My hand reaches for the journal on the coffee table, the one I've been writing in since I was a kid. I flip to a blank page and start scribbling, the words spilling out before I can stop them.

It was the same dream. The same memory. That night replaying over and over like a broken record I can't throw away. The way she just... disappeared. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined that part. If my child's mind made up the impossible because the truth was too hard to handle.

The pen hovers over the page, the words blurring together.Why did she leave? Was it really for me like she claimed? Did I do something wrong?I slam the journal shut before I can write anything else.

The sharp ring of my phone makes me jump. I grab it off the table, my stomach twisting when I see Gray's name on the screen. For a second, I consider ignoring it, but I know better. He's not the type to let it go.

"Hey," I say, trying to sound normal.

"Bree." Gray's voice is calm, steady, but I can hearthe edge of worry in it. "You free this morning?"

"I have a shift later."

"Then you've got time for coffee," he says, like it's already decided. "Theo's coming too."

"I—"