The mists rolled in a great number of years ago. Over the seas it came never seeming to change no matter what the weather chose to do. Several people of the country of Haylock murmured to each other at times that it was an ill mist, coming in from another world entirely. Most who heard them speaking that way merely laughed but no-one could fathom what brought it in, and kept it there.
Over the years since the beginnings of it, it had become the norm to be inside before dark fell. Those caught outside after that point were never seen again or were found dead in a curious manner; strung up on a tree or some other pillar like object with a ghostly pallor and jaw marks stretching the tops of their necks. The people in the country closed their curtains and locked their doors, not wanting to set eyes on whatever roamed the night.