The day the gray mist descended, Chen Yan was working overtime at the office.
He saw a snake made of gray mist crawl into a coworker’s ear. There were seven or eight people in the office. One took a photo and posted it to their social media, while another complained about the smog. No one saw the snake.
Only he could see it. Silver-white markings appeared in the palm of his right hand: ancient runes, a power that wasn’t his.
“You haven’t even opened the door yet,” asked the coworker, whose head was tilted as the gray mist possessed them. “How can you see?”
Those who open the door can see the truth. But the truth comes at a price.
The door is open. Don’t look back.
