Only about knee-high, the swirling fog continues to meander toward Sven, the tendril following the blade as Sven withdraws it. It slowly wraps around the metal and begins to spiral upward, the vortex shrinking as it latches onto Sven's blade until it surrounds it completely. The roiling, translucent cloud of fog bubbles clockwise around the blade, like a fat aura attached to it. A tendril slowly creeps out of this roiling cloud and experimentally licks up against Sven's hand.
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