ã€ŠBlack Iron &amp; Cinderã€‹


 I. The Mist (Section 1)

    The knight clad in pitch black iron was perched sturdily and unmoving on the slowly withering remains of an oak tree, staring at the bewitching orange and yellow flame weightlessly swaying on the bonfire he had shapen and lit. His thick, heavy armor covered him from his feet to his neck and was greatly worn and blemished by scratches and tiny dents carved by countless hostile encounters and hunts. His blue plumed helmet rested at his side, allowing his moderately lengthened dark hair to breathe the dull, sullen air of a dense forest, now scarely inhabited by any living creature. By now, anything with a pulse had already made the wise, instinctive decision to run south, where the creeping, dauntless miasma had yet to devour what remains of civilization on the continent of Yhordran.

    The knight''s face still had the appearance of a reasonably young adventurer, lacking the lines of age, but his demeanor had been beaten and brutalized into something far more exhausted. His pale skin is darkened by dirt, sweat, and grime; his cheeks, jaw, and upper part of his neck hadn''t seen a shave in many days, adding to his tired expression. His dark eyes reflected the flame sitting before him, which was slowly becoming dimmer and dimmer. A black horse with a long mane and patch of white around its right eye is already sleeping soundly, resting patiently for dawn to break with its saddle removed from its back and sitting at the base of the tree, along with a couple of saddlebags, a bow, and quiver of arrows.

    Unlike those with a prioritized sense of self-preservation, this knight was not traveling southward towards safety. He was venturing head-first into the danger that seeks to wipe the gift of life from the land. He wouldn''t be the only one to do this, as many individuals with either something to prove or nothing else to do had taken up arms to combat the foul, violent remnants of the lands already overtaken by the dark mist originating from the northern-most point of Yhordran. No one knows how it was created, as it swept across three hundred square miles in a manner of several hours ¨C faster than anyone could react.

    The moving wall of abyssal fog finally slowed to a crawl once it reached about two hundred miles outward in all directions, allowing just enough of a window for a barrier to be erected spanning from the western coast of the continent to the eastern coast. Efforts are being put into action to construct similar obstructions out in the sea, but that will take an unprecedented amount of time. All they know is that the fog does slow down little by little as the days pass, but we do not know if it will truly stop. If left alone for long enough, will it reach other continents, and eventually engulf the entire world? If so, no able-bodied or able-minded person would dare wish to see the result for themselves.

    In the last six months, as the fog has been kept at bay, many people have traveled to the affected northern region of Yhordran to participate in the quelling of the miasma. Glory-seekers attempt to make it to the epicenter of the outbreak and destroy the source for fame, bloodthirsty warriors join in for the sport of annihilating the necrotic and violent infected, opportunistic bandits simply wish to pick the remains of ill-fated, would-be heroes of valuables and equipment, and ignorant youth press their luck under the assumption that it will be adventurous and fun. The black-clad knight doesn''t fall into any of these categories. For reasons he keeps close to his chest, he has made up his own mind as to why he needs to face this obstacle.

    At the moment, the moon is slightly past its highest point in the sky, and it''s time for him to regain his strength for the continuing journey. He still needs to reach the barrier gate and formally register himself as a Mistwalker ¨C the formal title given to those who choose to venture into the fog. He pushes himself up and off the log he was sitting on, and walks into his primitive but serviceable tent, allowing the bonfire to slowly die out on its own. He isn''t worried about any bandits finding him in the shelter of night and attempting to abscond with his belongings or his horse. No one who isn''t already committed to stepping beyond the barrier would be this far north, and thus they wouldn''t bother with potential small-time payoff from one living knight who could fight back.

    Several hours later, the sun pokes out from the horizon, tinting the sky orange and slowly overtaking the remaining dark blues of night. The knight, now in a loose cotton shirt and trousers more comfortable for sleeping, slowly stirs awake and groggily exits his humble temporary shelter. He approaches his horse, also awake and alert, and reaches into his saddlebag for two healthy apples ¨C the remains of provisions he bought at the port town of Kelley Harbor just ten days prior ¨C and feeds one to his horse in slices cut by his dagger, and begins to eat the other. After the frugal breakfast, he wastes no time in dressing back into his iron suit. He removes his shirt and trousers under the expanding light of morning, revealing to no one in particular his lean, muscular body covered in well over a dozen scars of varying shapes and sizes, including a small patch of what seems to be a burn scar on his left shoulder. Once armored, he bunches up his bedroll and swiftly dismantles his tent, stuffing both into another large saddlebag, and saddles his horse. He slips into his helmet, collects his sword and shield, mounts his horse, and rides northward, with no real sense of urgency.

    The forest, called the Davinmoore Wood, is very crowded with trees and foliage. There are only a few man-made roads that cut through from the south end to the north, and they all connect to villages or outposts. Wandering too far from the path would guarantee an insurmountable challenge in finding your way back. Before the mist moved in, there was also an ever-present danger of bears, wolves, and other manner of forest predator to beware of. Now, no such threat exists. Animals have a unique sixth sense of being able to determine oncoming danger and escape it as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the same can''t be said of the thousands of men, women, and children within the borders of the mist, and the death toll doesn''t stop rising simply because of the existence of the land barrier. According to all of the tales and statistics that the black knight has heard, for every group of ten people who enter the dark fog, only one or two return. Thus, the potential danger for those who tempt fate in the future will only continue to grow. A group of ten soldiers would have had a slightly higher probability of success yesterday than they would have today, for the fog doesn''t allow the dead to stay dead. A person who dies beyond the barrier isn''t simply taken out of the equation; they''re added to the numbers of the mindless undead legion who refuse the clutches of the afterlife.

    Above all else, the only thing more frightening than the horrors concealed by the otherwordly miasma are the thoughts of what could have possibly birthed it. Since the mist took over the first massive chunk of the map in such a short time, no one has been able to confirm the source of it. Only blind speculation can surmise that the true center is possibly in or around Armasstadt, the city pressed up against the base of Mount Armas, but even if it is, where in the city, and why? Did some ignorant fool toil in some sort of forbidden magic and lose control? Was this a premeditated attack by a foreign or even homegrown enemy? Is this a freak natural disaster that unleashed hidden destructive power of the earth below us? In the six months of the mist''s existence, no one has found any answers, nor clues that could potentially lead to one. The citizens of Yhordran are beginning to lose hope. Multiple suicide pacts have been reported on since the mist came into being, and the more optimistic people simply opt to flee to neighboring continents. Should this ghastly, toxic omen continue to exist, Yhordran ¨C and possibly the world ¨C will be transformed into a realm of undead.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    A few hours has passed since the black-clad knight had awoken and continued his deliberately paced journey to the barrier; his horse was still patiently walking. However, he could faintly hear the slowly loudening sound of more hooves slamming againt the ground ¨C many of them. He turns around to see a group of five indistinguishable figures on horses, quickly approaching him. He pays them no mind, and resumes riding at his own speed. They return the favor by rushing past him with the strong animals'' legs kicking up dirt and stomping the ground with loud thuds. None of them turned their heads to even acknowledge the existence of the knight, except one. It was the back-most rider cloaked in black robes and a dark crimson cape and hood. Though the knight couldn''t make out their face, the person was of a smaller frame compared to the others. A woman, perhaps? Robes suggest a mage of some sort, as well. They all seemed to have been wearing modest leather armor. Were they rogues who intented to rob the corpses of the less fortunate, or hasty would-be champions who underestimate the danger of the mist? Though if they were simple thieves, they likely wouldn''t have gone out of their way to seek the aid of the presumed mage, because it wouldn''t be necessary to go too deep into the mist to find bodies to loot.

    Later, in the afternoon, when the sun has begun to come down from its apex, the forest finally begins to clear and open up, slowly transitioning into spacious green plains heading downhill; many trees have been turned into stumps, and the reason is apparent. From here, the knight in black iron can see extremely long palisades made of tall tree chunks stretching from east to west as far as the eye can see. The mist doesn''t simply seep through the logs or flow over them, because the real barrier isn''t the logs themselves; it''s the arcane crystals loaned from the arcane university in Evatica, the capital city.

    Each crystal is about the size of a grown man''s head, and can be manipulated to fit a multitude of different purposes. In this case, however, they''re being used as defensive domes, with one crystal covering a one mile radius, meaning that hundreds of crystals are currently in use to keep the mist from spreading further southward. Additionally, the bigger the dome is, the less dense it is, meaning that the individual crystal''s magic power is stretched thinner across a greater distance. Hence, each dome is tough enough to keep the mist out, but not to defend against direct attacks from an especially strong enemy; solid objects can phase through the barrier with no issue.

    With this fact in mind, it has become crucial for regular patrols to happen along the other side of the wall, for fear of the shambling undead congregating in one specific spot and possibly tearing it down, as it''s possible they could take a crystal with it and let the mist ooze through. Unfortunately, this land barrier can''t prevent the mist from eventually going around the wall from off shore of the coasts, but that will still take a significant amount of time.

    The knight in black iron approaches the large fenced-in area of multiple buildings right before the gate leading to the mist, which is left slightly ajar for Mistwalkers to come and go. There are multiple points of entry into the misted region along the barrier that stretches from coast to coast, each of them essentially serving as a hastily-founded base of operations for those who regularly go beyond it. This one is called Zenith Gate, due to being the largest and southern-most out of all of them, and it''s in the exact middle of the seemingly endless wall.

    The knight enters the base through an open threshold that''s not guarded by anyone, and carefully examines the settlement. As expected, it''s dirty, grimy, and none of the many busy people wandering about seemed to have experienced a smile in months. So many feet and hooves have stomped on this patch of ground, that there isn''t a single blade of grass left despite being in the middle of a plain. It''s easy to spot the Mistwalkers, because they''re either injured, armed to the teeth, sporting a thousand yard stare, or just particularly filthy and exhausted ¨C sometimes a combination of the four. There are no bodies being transported or graves being dug, because everyone knows what happens to corpses beyond the barrier.

    There''s a cluster of private huts and a blacksmith with a modest forge along the southeastern corner of the fence, presumably here to repair Mistwalkers'' equipment. A large building in the northwestern section is an inn, where Mistwalkers can choose to stay, but there''s also a large yard behind it where many tents are set up for those who wish for a bit more privacy. Outhouses are further behind the collection of tents. At the southwest corner, facing the inn and tent yard, is the tavern and eatery. Since establishing the wall, a number of fruit, vegetable, grain, and livestock farms have been contracted to provide a constant flow of provisions to the checkpoints, because of how many mouths stay for extended periods of time. Directly across from the inn is two smaller buildings: the closest being a stable, and the one next to it is the Zenith Gate Mistwalker headquarters. Like the towering wall itself, the buildings are all quickly-constructed from logs.

    ¡°Sir?¡± A voice timidly calls out. The knight turns and looks down to see a young boy with golden hair and green eyes, likely no older than thirteen, staring back up at him.

    ¡°Yes?¡± The knight finally speaks in a slightly coarse voice.

    ¡°You new here?¡± The boy inquires, likely for the twentieth time today.

    ¡°I am.¡± The knight replies firmly.

    ¡°If you''re planning on going past the barrier, the headquarters are right over there.¡± The boy points to the respective building. ¡°Fill out some papers and they''ll set you up. I work over at the stable with my ma and pa. If you want, I can take your horse over there.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any feed?¡±

    ¡°Yessir, we have plenty of hay. When was the last time it ate?¡±

    ¡°This morning. Can you feed her now?¡±

    ¡°Yessir, we can.¡±

    The knight silently dismounts. ¡°What''s your name?¡± He asks ¨C almost demands.

    ¡°Edmund Hollis, sir.¡±

    ¡°Take care of her, Edmund.¡± The knight hands Edmund the horse''s worn reins. ¡°Remove her saddle, too.¡±

    ¡°I will, sir.¡± The boy nods and casually escorts the horse to the stable.

    The knight removes his helmet and firmly pins it between the underside of his right arm and side of his chest. He continues to stand in attention at the large gate to the opposite side of the settlement leading to the opposite side of the wall ¨C the dangerous side. After a short moment of consideration, he walks to the Mistwalker headquarters with his sword at his waist and shield at his back.

 I. The Mist (Section 2)

    Inside, a large collection of headstrong fighters and would-be heroes stand in line to officially register themselves and throw their bodies into the abyss. A second queue off to the right is for active Mistwalkers seeking compensation for the day''s trek, paid in copper, silver, gold, or platinum coins. Other warriors are scattered around, huddled together in different groups, quietly conjuring various plans and ideas for how to progress further tomorrow. Several eyes are also drawn to the knight''s impressive suit.

    He walks to the back of registration queue, patiently taking a few steps forward as it progresses slowly. He notices that many of the other individuals standing in front of him seem to be fresh-faced teenagers, young enough to have never participated in more than famial roughhousing, let alone a battle against some abstract plague and its victims. Only one or two appear even remotely prepared, but still ill-seasoned. Have hard times fallen upon Yhordran so badly, that becoming a Mistwalker is easier than simply finding a modest job as a farmer or fisherman? Or are they all naive enough to think they''ll be part of the ten to twenty percent who return from their first venture?

    The knight reaches the counter after a perceived eternity in wait. Behind it is a tired young woman of pale complexion and dark brown hair who has likely been working like this non-stop, all day. She groggily recites the greeting she''s already apathetically spouted a dozen times since the knight even entered the building.

    ¡°Welcome to Zenith Gate headquarters, are you registering for Mistwalker duty?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± The knight responds.

    She hands him a sheet of paper picked from a tall, readily-prepared stack of forms and pushes a quill and bottle of ink towards him. ¡°Fill this out. We just need your name, date of birth, permanent residence, and then name and address of next of kin to inform in case of your death.¡± She says with no hesitation or tact, concepts likely thrown away months ago when she had handed out the five thousandth form.

    ¡°What if I have no permanent residence?¡± The knight casually inquires.

    ¡°Just put down Zenith Gate, then.¡± She coldly responds.

    ¡°And if I have no next of kin?¡±

    ¡°Leave that line blank.¡±

    The knight quickly fills out the remaining two fields he can, and quietly pushes the form back to the young woman.

    ¡°''Atticus Dayne'', huh?¡± She calmly recites the name she sees on the paper. ¡°I''m surprised a guy with such expensive-looking armor would have no next of kin. You look kinda important. But then again, I wouldn''t know if you just stole it off someone.¡± She voices her thoughts, with no expectation of a reply, which she doesn''t receive anyway, as the knight stays silent. She takes out a stamp and quickly inks it and slams it on the form, and places it on a different stack. She reaches under the counter a brings up a card with empty squares on it.

    ¡°Alright,¡± she begins, ¡°sign your name again at the top of this card; it''s what you''ll be using at the sortie booth.¡± The stoic knight examines the card, which has ten squares divided into two rows of five, with a name field at the top, as well as the gate name and card number. ¡°The top squares are for check out, when you enter the mist. The booth operator will stamp it and sign the date and time of departure. Then, when you come back, the booth operator will stamp it again on the bottom row and sign the date and time of return. Then, you come back to headquarters, and go to that counter over there.¡± She points to the other queue leading to a different counter headed by an old man. ¡°He''ll give you your pay. The longer you''re out, the more pay you get, with a bonus if you stay out longer than twenty-four hours.

    ¡°You can only leave and return once a day, but if you fill out all ten squares by leaving and returning five times, you get another bonus and a fresh card to do it all again. There''s also a number of checkpoints established by the Yhordran Legion beyond the wall, and if you reach them, you can get another stamp from them that shows the us how far you''ve traveled when you return, and you''ll get yet another bonus. Also, if you end up at any other gate to the east or west, you should still be compensated like usual if you just stamp your card there.¡± She leans back, having explained all meanings of the sortie card, but she recalls one final detail. ¡°Oh, and there''s a big bonus for those who bring back ''unique conquests.''¡±

    ¡°And what are these ''unique conquests?''¡± Atticus asks, his brow slightly raised.

    ¡°They say once you go deep enough into the fog, you begin to encounter nasty monstrosities.¡± She casually explains. ¡°If you slay one, bring back proof, and you''ll be rewarded depending on its size.¡±

    ¡°So, a head?¡±

    ¡°Whatever body part does the best job at telling us how big it really was.¡±

    The knight looks down at his card once again for a thoughtful few seconds, and asks: ¡°How often do people manage to fill out all ten squares on their first card?¡±

    ¡°Rarely.¡± She quickly and coldly answers. ¡°Very rarely.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± He replies, unmoved and unsurprised by the news.

    ¡°Make sure you keep that on you at all times. If you lose it, you''ll have to redo the progress on that card. And if you end up fighting any undead Mistwalkers, search their bodies for their cards, and bring it back. That way we''ll know for sure who''s dead. You''ll get a small bonus for those, too.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Anything else I should know?¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°That''s it. Oh, my name is Eileen, by the way. Any questions?¡±

    Atticus shakes his head. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°If at any point you wish to quit being a Mistwalker, or simply want to take a break, leave your card here. If you continue your duties later, we''ll give it back to you.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    ¡°Okay. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for registering for the Mistwalkers, and good luck.¡± Eileen recites almost sarcastically.

    Without another word, Atticus leaves the counter and before exiting, he looks back and forth once more between the card and the compensation counter. He knows so many bonus payment systems are implemented to provide further incentive to weather the deadly dangers and perils of the mist. With a daily death rate between eighty and ninety percent, such motivators are necessary. If they weren''t there, more people would be registering just to run in, loot as many bodies as they can in one day, and leave with no intention of returning. With numerous bonuses, even those rogues might be inspired to do real work. However, Atticus pursued this burden for something other than money, though extra coin is something he wouldn''t necessarily turn down. He will find the source of the mist and destroy it, or die in the attempt. That''s what he decided for himself the second he mounted his horse and rode to the barrier.

    The somber knight leaves Zenith Gate''s headquarters and enters the inn directly across the dirt path. Upon entry, he finds himself immediately inside a lobby, facing a counter managed by the middle-aged, bespectacled male innkeeper of greying hair and beard. Like headquarters, some Mistwalkers are scattered around the entrance, talking of various subjects amongst themselves. To either side of the counter is a doorway; the left leading to the men''s half of the inn, and the right leading to the women''s half.

    ¡°Looking for a room, sir?¡± The innkeeper says from across the lobby, beckoning Atticus to approach the counter. He obliges.

    ¡°Depends.¡± Atticus replies. ¡°How do your rooms compare to a tent?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± the innkeeper begins in a soft voice, ¡°To begin with, I think the word ''room'' is an overstatement. To make as much use as possible of the available space, our rooms are little larger than a pantry.¡±

    Atticus leans to his left and peers into the men''s side of the building. Indeed, each ¡°room¡± seems to be a mere broom closet with thin walls, barely large enough for one cot. They don''t even have their own doors, either; merely a slideable curtain hanging from the top of the threshold. However, there''s easily two dozen rooms stuffed into the area, organized in rows separated by thin walk paths, so the idea of fitting as many people into the building as possible seems to have worked.

    ¡°We offer a cheap rate of fifteen copper a day, which is how much you make from a venture of three hours into the mist.¡± The innkeeper continues. ¡°But of course, if you have your own tent and wish to save money, you''re more than welcome to set yourself up in the back yard for free. We understand that the cramped nature of our establishment doesn''t fit everyone.¡±

    The knight ponders his options. The tent he has is small and not much of an improvement over the rooms here, if it could be considered an improvement at all. However, he isn''t keen on being stuffed in an area almost shoulder to shoulder with so many strangers who may or may not be boisterous through the night, and having to pay fifteen copper per night for it.

    ¡°I think I''ll have to opt for my tent outside. Apologies, innkeeper.¡± Atticus humbly announces his decision.

    ¡°It''s perfectly understandable, sir Mistwalker.¡± The innkeeper gracefully accepts the rejection. ¡°Should you ever change your mind, I''ll still be here. My name is Ricard.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the offer.¡± The knight expresses his gratitude with a nod, and quietly returns outside.

    Atticus resumes his introduction of the settlement area by entering the tavern and eatery south of the inn. Inside, many Mistwalkers are talking loudly at their tables, with a few making merry to celebrate yet another journey into the fog that didn''t end in violent demise. Two young women are constantly going back and forth between tables and the kitchen to deliver food and drink to the famished and thirsty fighters of the abyss. Again, the knight''s armor draws some attention from several other individuals, but he makes no fuss over it and walks to the counter manned by a bulky fellow of short, dirty blonde hair and a bushy mustache. Behind him are kegs of different liquids and a vast collection of fruits, vegetables, and bread.

    ¡°You new here?¡± The man asks in a deep, booming voice.

    ¡°I am.¡± The knight replies monotonically.

    ¡°Figured. If I had seen you before, I''d have recognized that armor.¡± The large man states with a rub of his chin. ¡°Name''s Tarvus. I''m the manager of this place. Our selection of food and drink is behind me. Take a look and tell me what you want.¡±

    Atticus closely examines the library of foods and kegs. Among the selection of fruits are apples, oranges, grapes, bananas, peaches, pears, strawberries, blueberries, pomegranate, and more. The selection of vegetables is equally as vast with carrots, corn, potatoes, lettuce, garlic, peppers, yams, beans, peas, cucumbers, and others. The several wooden drink kegs are labeled mead, ale, wine, and water. Finally, there''s also a collection of breads in different shapes, sizes, and grain.

    ¡°Do you do any cooking here?¡± Atticus asks.

    ¡°Not me, personally.¡± Tarvus responds with a shake of his head. ¡°However, we do have a chef in the back, so it''s an option, for an extra fee. Some people buy the ingredients and just cook for themselves outside.¡±

    ¡°Do you have any meat?¡±

    ¡°Yes, with the chef. Feel free to head back there and check it out yourself if you want. I''ll warn you though, our meat''s a bit expensive.¡±

    ¡°Why''s that?¡±

    The large manager shakes his head. ¡°It''s not local. When the mist moved in, livestock farms in the area went crazy and cows and pigs stampeded southward along with other big game to escape the oncoming danger. So our meat is sent from much further south, past the capital, and when transporting meat, they have to be kept cool by ice arcane stones, which slowly drain and need to be recharged.¡± Tarvus heaves a sigh. ¡°The whole logistics of it all is quite tiring. The mist absolutely fucked the livestock business, but in addition to that, there''s dozens of farms past the wall that were swallowed up. Some of them were specialty farms that were the sole source of certain fruits or vegetables. There''s a reason we don''t have pineapples or coconuts and such here.¡±

    ¡°A complicated matter indeed.¡± The black knight sympathizes.

    ¡°If we can''t get rid of the mist reasonably soon, Yhordran might encounter a food crisis.¡± The bulky man''s face becomes dark. ¡°As grim as it sounds, the only thing pushing it back is the fact that there''s less mouths to feed as more people die on the opposite side of the barrier. ''Complicated'' is putting it very lightly. Even if this mist stays contained, it could still be a catalyst for greater problems.¡±

    ¡°What exactly is taking so long for the source of this blight to be found?¡±

    ¡°Apparently, the closer you get to the center, the greater the threats are, and the lower your chances are of survival.¡± Tarvus bluntly explains. ¡°It''s assumed the center is at or around Armasstadt, which is about four hundred miles north from here. The northern-most checkpoint established by the Yhordran Legion is merely half that distance. Very, very few people have made it past the mid-point and returned, but absolutely no one that we know of has made it all the way to the Armasstadt border.¡±

    Atticus becomes pensive. This task he''s undertaken is truly dangerous, and this new information paints a dark picture of his chances of success. Six months, and even the Yhordran Legion can''t make it past half way in? No doubt that this bleak news would turn away many people if they heard it and drive them into a sense of dread and hopelessness. He thinks back to those recent reports he heard of suicide pacts, and begins to understand why they did it. No doubt it would seem like a favorable outcome than watching your world slowly eaten away by an unexplainable plague. Yet, at the same time, Atticus also feels more motivated.

 I. The Mist (Section 3)

    ¡°This will be a very tough journey,¡± the knight states, ¡°I''ll be sure to be careful.¡±

    Tarvus smiles. ¡°You know what''s a good way to stay healthy while venturing through the fog, dark knight?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Atticus replies, partly expecting a useful secret.

    ¡°Food!¡± Tarvus exclaims. ¡°Lots of food! So, what do you want?¡±

    ¡°I won''t be buying much right now.¡± Atticus says, after being surprised by the bulky man''s change in demeanor. ¡°I''m waiting until morning to start.¡±

    ¡°Either way, you need something in your stomach so you can have those precious vitamins and minerals to absorb while you sleep. Go on, pick something.¡± Tarvus swings his arm to his library of groceries, practically introducing them to the knight.

    ¡°Well, I''ll take three apples, two peaches, and two potatoes then.¡±

    Tarvus begins picking out the selected items and placing them in a fresh burlap sack. ¡°Three apples, two peaches, and two potatoes. Oh, we have bottles of cold milk back in the kitchen, by the way. Would you like one?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Tarvus turns and yells to one of the girls serving food. ¡°Dana!¡±

    A young, pretty girl with tan skin and dark hair answers. ¡°Yes, sir?¡±

    ¡°Go to the back and fetch me a bottle of milk, would you, dear?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± She nods and immediately walks through the door leading to the kitchen.

    ¡°That''ll be nine copper.¡± Tarvus says to the knight while placing the sack of food at the counter. Atticus grabs the coin purse tied to his hip, and pays the needed amount.

    Dana returns from the kitchen and hands the corked bottle of milk to Tarvus. ¡°Here you are, sir.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, darling.¡± Tarvus takes it, sets it on the counter, and the girl resumes her serving duties. The large man continues, ¡°Keep the sack for when you return and purchase more food. The milk bottle can be reused as well. It''s two pints, and I can fill it with any other drink you wish to order and you can take it to go.¡±

    ¡°I''ll keep that in mind.¡± Atticus replies while grabbing his milk and groceries. ¡°Thank you for the food.¡±

    ¡°You''re welcome. Do come again.¡± Tarvus bids farewell and Atticus nods and leaves the tavern.

    Outside, he decides to pay a visit to his mare at the stable. Walking past another gate leading to a yard behind the stable owner''s hut, one can see that the horses find themselves in a similar situation as the Mistwalkers staying at the inn: cramped somewhat closely in small stalls and given little room to breathe and roam. Atticus momentarily second-guesses letting his horse stay here, but there isn''t much room elsewhere in this stuffed, makeshift base of operations. Upon finding his horse''s stall, Atticus approaches her with one of the apples he purchased mere minutes ago, cuts it into large pieces, and holds them out to her one by one. She happily accepts it.

    ¡°That''s your mare?¡± Atticus hears a feminine voice from his side. He turns and sees a young woman ¨C late teens, maybe past that ¨C with light brown hair and green eyes, wearing a dirtied long skirt.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The knight responds casually. ¡°Are you with the family that owns the stable?¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± The young woman nods with an accompanying smile. ¡°My name is Edith Hollis. My little brother mentioned a knight in scary armor earlier when he brought that mare over. I assume that must be you?¡±

    ¡°It is. Thank you for looking after her.¡±

    ¡°You''re welcome. I fed her as soon as I settled her into her stall.¡± Edith takes a few steps closer to the knight and stall while admiring the horse. ¡°She beautiful. What''s her name?¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Annaliese.¡± Atticus reponds while gently stroking the mare''s neck. ¡°I''ve had her for several years now.¡±

    ¡°She seems young and healthy. Or at least, she has a healthy appetite.¡± Edith announces while looking to the ground inside the stall. ¡°I gave her quite a generous pile of hay and it looks like she''s already devoured most of it.¡±

    Atticus looks at the corner of the stall and sees the remnants of the hay pile she''s referring to. ¡°She is quite the eater, but thankfully she''s not picky.¡± The knight''s attention is suddenly drawn to some energetic neighing coming from the set of stalls on the opposite end of the yard. There''s a separate group of horses over there, some without saddles.

    ¡°Those are horses whose owners have died on the other side of the wall.¡± Edith dejectedly reveals. ¡°Sometimes they make it back on their own, other times they''re brought back by other Mistwalkers.¡±

    ¡°What do you do with them?¡±

    ¡°If their owner had next of kin listed on their form, we send the horse to them. If not, then we strip the horse of their saddles and leftover equipment and sell them to breeders, farmers, and third-party stables.¡± She lets out a small sigh. ¡°We''ve gone through hundreds of horses that way in the few months we''ve been here. My father and older sister are escorting a big group of orphaned horses down south as we speak. When they come back, they''ll be doing it again with that group over there.¡±

    ¡°That sounds very tiresome.¡± The knight honestly remarks.

    ¡°It is. They''re rarely home because of it, and those horses over there are the ones who made it back. Like with Mistwalkers, horses have a very high death rate on the other side.¡± Edith hangs her head and woefully examines the ground before her. ¡°I don''t know what manner of beasts or horrors lie in the mist, but they''ll kill anything and everything they see.¡±

    Atticus turns his head to his faithful mare Annaliese, and quietly reconsiders bringing her with him tomorrow. He would hate to risk losing her, but traveling by foot isn''t practical, as he has a lot of ground to cover beyond the barrier, as well as equipment and food he''ll need help carrying. Of course, Annaliese is no stranger to risk, but this is something different entirely. Along with his armor, sword, and shield, she is part of what remains of his past life; a life that he might have left behind, but not one he wishes to forget.

    As he stares into the eyes of his four-legged companion, he can almost sense a silent determination coming from her, as if she knows what''s going to happen and is willing to face the potential consequences of their journey. She''s never shown any reluctance in the face of danger before, and she isn''t showing any now.

    After a quiet, thoughtful moment, Edith continues. ¡°Have you been beyond the wall yet?¡±

    ¡°No, I haven''t.¡± The knight answers with a shake of his head. ¡°I begin tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I guess you''re planning to take her with you, huh?¡± The young woman gestures with her eyes by glancing to the dark mare.

    ¡°...Yes.¡± Atticus answers, but not immediately.

    ¡°Well, I know it probably doesn''t mean much from someone you just met, but I hope you both return safe and sound.¡± Edith offers a sincere, kind smile.

    ¡°Thank you. We will.¡± The black-clad knight expresses his gratitude with one confident nod.

    ¡°Well, if you''ll excuse me, I need to tend to some of the horses. Have a good evening.¡± The young green-eyed farm girl flashes another smile and timidly walks past the knight, who silently enters the stall to retrieve the saddlebag sitting on the ground that houses his modest tent. He caresses his equine comrade one final time before leaving the stable.

    The sun begins to hide itself behind the western horizon, and as Atticus crosses the once-green dirt path to reach the yard behind the inn, he hears the familiar beating of large hooves against the ground. He turns to face the massive, slightly open gate leading to the dangerous abyss, and watches a group of five mounted Mistwalkers return from their sortie. Upon closer inspection, he spots a figure at the rear of the group that he can recall seeing earlier in the day: the presumed mage in a dark crimson hood.

    His stare works its way down to the robed person''s hands, where an arcane bracelet can be seen on their right wrist ¨C the tool of choice for practitioners of magic. This person''s bracelet had two red stones embedded into it, signifying an adept user of the most basic pyromancy. When he saw the group that afternoon, he assumed they were ill-prepared due to their lack of proper equipment, but with the inclusion of a mage, the knight seems to have been mistaken. Four of the warriors casually trot past Atticus to enter the stable and allow their horses to rest for the night, but the fifth ¨C the mage ¨C spots the dark knight and for the first time, for about a single second, their gazes lock. Atticus earlier assumed by the mage''s stature, which was smaller than the other individuals they were with, that she was a woman; and he was correct.

    For that short second, he saw a feminine face; a young one, likely no older than twenty years. He saw short, shaggy auburn hair with long bangs that could cover her eyes if they weren''t brushed aside. He saw striking blue eyes that exuded a firm sense of resoluteness. After the second was over, their gazes ceased their lock on one another, and the mage rode on. Though he couldn''t see the finer details of her face due to lack of time, Atticus could tell she was quite the beauty; seemingly too prim and proper for this hazardous, hands-on work, but he didn''t assume to know her circumstances. He simply heard that mages don''t make their way out here too often.

    With his simple, single-person tent in hand, Atticus went to the camping area behind the inn and set himself up for the night in his own isolated corner of the yard, where he ate a light meal of fruit and potatoes and patiently waited for his usual bedtime to drift to sleep.

 II. Into the Abyss (Section 1)

    The next morning, after the knight awakens and re-equips his armor, sword, and shield, and dismantles his tent, he enters the eatery with his saddlebag in hand and helmet under his arm. Inside, many other Mistwalkers are having their fill of hearty breakfast before setting out. Most of them are quiet, as the danger of a gruesome death is a force they know looms over them constantly, but some do manage to stifle their fears in pleasant ¨C albeit a bit forced ¨C conversation. One pair of tables in particular is occupied by one such group: the pyromancer''s posse. Three of the men share one table, while the currently unknown pyromancer shares her table with the last man. Compelled by no certain excuse or force other than pure curiosity, Atticus takes this opportunity to sit at a vacant table near them, with his back towards them, waiting patiently for one of the waitresses to approach him. None of the five pay him any mind and continue talking.

    ¡°It seems like pretty easy pickins for those first few miles out past the gate.¡± The slender man with a bald head and patch of whiskers on his chin announces; one of the three men at the first table.

    ¡°Perhaps, but the dangers will only become greater as we push forward.¡± A low, authoritative voice belonging to a dark-skinned man of athletic build, with black dreadlocks and a thick goatee ¨C the second person at the first table ¨C responds. ¡°The ones who died closer to the gate were merely the weakest members of the Mistwalker forces. The deeper we venture into the fog, the more likely we''ll come across stronger undead.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but they''re undead.¡± The slim, bald man replies. ¡°How strong can a walkin'' corpse be?¡± He says practically with a sneer; mocking the idea that decomposing bodies can put up a fight.

    The third man at their table, a large, intimidating fellow with long, braided blonde hair and a long, bushy beard speaks up after swallowing a mouthful of the cooked pig on the plate in front of him.¡°Don''t act so brave now, Kellar.¡± He sounds a bit annoyed in his low, booming voice. ¡°On the way over here, we heard rumors of how the mist turns people into horrifying beasts as you get closer to the center, and you quaked in your boots about it.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Rumors.¡± The slim man, Kellar, snaps back. ¡°You know why no one knows for sure? Because no one proved that these monsters actually fuckin'' exist. I don''t why the hell you''re so eager to find any of them.¡±

    ¡°That''s probably because anyone who tried to fight those monsters are dead.¡± The large blonde man responds with an aggressive point of his finger. ¡°The rumors are even persistent enough for headquarters to offer a bonus if someone does show proof. Is that convincing enough for you? Don''t you want the challenge?¡±

    ¡°You''re so god damn superstitious.¡± Kellar scornfully utters. ¡°Even if they do exist, who said we''d be going deep enough into the mist to fight them anyway?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± The man with dreadlocks interjects. ¡°When I gathered up this collection of would-be adventurers, I explained to each of you that I planned on actually trying to find out the source of this mist, and that making money was merely a perk.¡± He glares at Kellar threateningly. ¡°Did you think I was making a joke?¡±

    The slim man slumps his shoulders. ¡°No...¡±

    ¡°Hahaha!¡± The large blonde man suddenly lets out a belly laugh. ¡°Don''t worry, Kellar. Uncle Royd is here to babysit you. I''ll take care of those big, bad monsters before you even have the chance to piss yourself. Haha!¡± He laughs again in hearty mockery, and Kellar becomes quietly steamed.

    From this short exchange, Atticus can make some assumptions that might be reasonably accurate. First, the slim man, Kellar, seems to be a rogue or bandit that only joined the group on the promise of money. Second, the bulky blonde man, Royd, seems to make up the majority of the group''s muscle, and might be in it for the challenge or sport. Third, the stern man with dreadlocks seems to be the group''s leader, evidenced by his decision-making power among them. Finally, from what little he can gather, Atticus also assumes that their trip into the mist yesterday was merely for reconnaissance. The mage woman and fourth man who''s sitting with her have yet to speak.

    The black-clad knight takes this chance to turn his head to the left, towards the group, and examine them further. Kellar has two daggers at his waist. A straightsword and kite shield are propped against the leg of the table, next to the presumed leader. Royd has a large axe resting with its head on the floor, handle leaning on his thigh. Atticus slowly swings his head around to his right to get a good look at the final two. The fourth man, who is sitting facing away from the knight, has short black hair that''s near-shaven on the sides and back, but wavy on the top. He has a bow and quiver of arrows on his back.

    Finally, Atticus brings his gaze up to the young pyromancer, only to be surprised at her eyes looking right back at him. Once again, their gazes lock onto one another for a moment, neither of them wavering, but neither of them are trying to intimidate the other. If anything, she seems just as interested in Atticus for some reason as he is interested in her. After the tense pause that felt like minutes, the girl closes her eyes and hangs her a head, as if feigning a nap. The curious knight turns forward just in time for one of the waitresses to approach him.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Hello, sir. I hope you weren''t waiting too long.¡± Says the young woman with long red hair and freckled face. ¡°Can I get you anything?¡±

    ¡°Do you have any steak in the back?¡± Atticus asks.

    ¡°Yes, sir. We offer cuts anywhere between four and thirty-two ounces.¡±

    ¡°Then I''ll take a sixteen-ouncer; medium rare.¡± He reaches into the saddlebag he lugged into the eatery with him and pulls out the sack he was given the day before. ¡°And can you fill this with three apples and three peaches?¡±

    ¡°Of course, sir.¡± The girl replies while accepting the sack. ¡°Okay. That''ll be two silver and six copper, sir.¡± Atticus grabs his small coin purse and pays the asked amount. She continues, ¡°Thank you. Your meal will be ready shortly.¡± Then she''s gone as quickly as she came.

    Tarvus wasn''t kidding when he said their meat was a bit more expensive than usual. Two silver coins for one sixteen-ounce steak was definitely a higher price than the knight had seen in other places. Thankfully, he''s not a particularly large eater, and that steak will keep his stomach full until well into the afternoon. A much bigger issue is satisfying Annaliese''s hunger, as he doesn''t know if the plants on the other side of the wall are safe for horses to consume.

    Food aside, he begins to think back to the previous moment where he locked eyes with the young mage woman. Does she assume he''s spying on her? If so, why didn''t she say anything to her posse? Does she have no suspicions of the knight at all? Frankly, Atticus has no idea why she''s become such a person of interest to him to begin with. Maybe it''s simply because he''s seen so few mages since coming to Yhordran? All he knows is that once he caught a glimpse of her face yesterday evening, he felt compelled to know more about her.

    However, considering what happened a minute ago, the feeling could be mutual. There''s also the question of how she''s related to the men she''s with. Did they just recruit her normally? Is she family with one of them? Usually, mages are associated with the upper class due to the heavy tuition costs the university imposes on students. It''s probably safe to say she isn''t in desperate need of money, so maybe she''s here for sport like the large blonde man? Maybe she''s here for a sincere attempt to save Yhordran? But what if that bracelet she''s wearing isn''t her''s? What if she''s a rogue using a stolen arcane bracelet? Atticus knows it''s foolish to make so many rapid-fire questions based on such little information, but he can''t help himself.

    ¡°Here''s your fruits, sir.¡± The red-headed waitress returns with the knight''s sack now full of apples and peaches and hands it to him.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He accepts, but remembers something else he needs done. ¡°Oh, could I bother you to also fill this glass with water, as well?¡± Atticus pulls the now-empty milk bottle he purchased from Tarvus yesterday.

    ¡°Of course. That''ll be one additional copper.¡± The young woman obliges, accepting the bottle. Atticus takes out one last coin from his small coin sack and hands that over, too. ¡°Thank you, sir. I''ll return in a moment.¡± Once again, she hastily leaves to fulfill her duties.

    As the knight waits for his water, the mage''s group starts up another conversation.

    ¡°So what are we going to do once we run out of food that we purchased from this place? Can we get more from one of the Legion checkpoints?¡± Kellar asks.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The man with dreadlocks man replies. ¡°Apparently all of the checkpoints receive regular food deliveries as well. They''re obligated to share some with any Mistwalkers that reach them, but I would presume that the checkpoints further in probably have less to offer.¡±

    ¡°You hear that, oaf? Don''t gorge yourself too much.¡± Kellar''s barbed words are obviously aimed at the massive blonde man.

    ¡°Maybe eating a bit more would actually put some muscle on your bones, Kellar.¡± The large man bites back. ¡°Perhaps after a steak or two, you''ll be able to lift more than just those dinky knives you have on you.¡±

    ¡°Enough.¡± The supposed leader interrupts them before it gets too personal ¨C or worse, a fight breaks out. ¡°Don''t start jumping up each other''s asses the very morning we start our mission proper.¡±

    The conflicting men both heave sighs, and Kellar resumes the previous topic. ¡°Anyway, Tarvus told us that the northern-most checkpoint was still only half-way to the mist''s center. How are we going to get food once we pass that point?¡±

    ¡°I''ve asked around,¡± replies the presumed leader of the group with a rub of his goatee, ¡°and supposedly the water from streams is still safe to drink, at the very least.¡±

    ¡°No kiddin''?¡± The rogue responds in understandable surprise. ¡°Coulda fooled me. I figured the mist contaminated everything it touched.¡±

    ¡°Apparently not. We''ll find out on our own, soon enough.¡± The dreadlocked man pauses to look around the two tables occupied by his group. ¡°Is everyone finished with their meals?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd responds.

    ¡°Plate''s all clean.¡± Then Kellar.

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The fourth man ¨C the archer ¨C finally speaks, and in a smooth, sophisticated tone. Of course, the mage doesn''t respond at all, letting her blank dish do the talking.

    ¡°Alright. Let''s fetch our horses and head out.¡± The leader stands, with the others following suit. ¡°Royd, grab the food on the list and meet us at the gate.¡±

    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± The massive blonde man obliges.

    Everyone picks up their weapons and four of them head to the exit, with Royd approaching Tarvus''s counter. As the posse passes Atticus, once again not paying him any mind, the mage girl quietly turns her head and flashes another glance at him before they all leave. The knight stays stone-faced, but wonders if her interest in him only exists because his interest in her became apparent first.

 II. Into the Abyss (Section 2)

    While he ponders, the waitress from earlier makes a sudden appearance before him.

    ¡°Here''s your water, sir.¡± She sets his newly filled bottle at the table. ¡°Your steak will be ready shortly.¡± Then she departs once more before Atticus can express his gratitude.

    ¡°Did you enjoy your meal?¡± A different, booming voice is heard from the knight''s side. Atticus turns his head to see Tarvus speaking to Royd.

    ¡°Very much, cousin. It was the best pig I''ve eaten in months. Give my regards to the cook, would you?¡± Royd replies.

    ¡°Of course! Are you heading out into the mist again?¡±

    ¡°Aye, we''re starting our adventure proper today. Don''t know when we''ll be back.¡± Royd''s voice, which was quite a roar earlier while exhcanging insults with Kellar, becomes a bit softer.

    ¡°It is indeed dangerous out there, but I have faith in you. Just be careful and don''t do anything rash.¡± Tarvus''s voice similarly becomes a bit low. It''s quite a sight seeing a man as huge as Royd being lectured by someone else.

    ¡°I won''t, cousin. I do have a long list of food we plan on taking with us, though.¡± Royd hands over a small sheet of paper and several grocery sacks, one containing multiple empty bottles.

    Tarvus looks at the paper and becomes gobsmacked. ¡°Goodness sakes, man. You might as well be lifting my store off the ground and hauling it off with you!¡±

    ¡°Don''t worry, I''m good for it.¡± Royd playfully waves off Tarvus''s by showing a small bag of coins, carefully dumping out its contents of many coppers and some silvers onto the counter. The store owner begins picking out a big collection of fruits and vegetables, and fills the bottles with water.

    Once done, Royd carries all of the stuffed sacks with one hand with no visible effort. ¡°Well, I should hope to see you again sometime soon.¡± The blonde warrior states.

    ¡°Come back in one piece, you hear?¡± Tarvus replies with a stern point of his finger. ¡°Autumn equinox is around the corner, and I won''t allow you to not get drunk with me. I''ll find your corpse and drag you home if I have to.¡±

    ¡°Haha! Aye, Tarvus!¡± Royd responds jovially. ¡°I''ll come back after saving Yhordran, I promise you! Goodbye for now.¡±

    ¡°Safe travels.¡± The two bulky men bid farewell, with Royd hauling his collection of food sacks with him.

    Atticus considers the new interesting development: Tarvus and Royd being family ¨C cousins, specifically. It begs the question of why Tarvus isn''t crossing the threshold into the mist, himself. Is his job at the eatery so important? Perhaps, despite his size and stature, he has no combat experience? Any guess as good as another. However, considering Royd''s eagerness and demeanor, it''s no tall order to expect him to take care of himself. Still, it must quite a burden on one''s mind to know you have family attempting to overcome the hardships of the mysterious fog, especially when you''re here, at the border.

    The pensive knight''s face changes into that of immediate realization when he remembers the friendly faces that he too has left behind, at his home across the ocean. He quietly justifies it to himself by thinking that some people need to spend time trying to find themselves before they commit to a new life afterward. If he hadn''t left, he''d simply be a burden ¨C a dead weight on everyone''s shoulders, too caught up in dwelling on past failures. Atticus wouldn''t allow that. Thus, he departed. They don''t know he''s here, prepared to dive head-first into what is possibly the greatest threat to the civilized world. In fact, he''s been gone so long, they likely don''t even know if he''s still alive. He feels a pang of guilt strike his heart, but he silently shakes it off.

    ¡°Here''s your steak, sir.¡± The remarkably efficient waitress appears once again, with a plate and eating utensils in hand. She sets them down neatly and carefully in front of the knight. ¡°We hope you enjoy it.¡± She gives a slight, courteous bow, and yet again hastily leaves as abruptly as she appeared. Tarvus must be a strict boss for her to be so expeditious.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    The knight has a big day ahead, so he figures it would be a good idea to scarf down the respectably-sized, inticing steak in front of him and begin his mission. With no more hesitation due to busy thoughts, he cuts a bite-sized piece of meat and chews it slowly to savor the taste. It''s cooked just how he likes it: with a light pink tint in the very center. Flavorful juices seep from it with each slice, and the delicious scent is strong enough to make you mistake a strong whiff for an actual bite. The last time he treated himself to such a professionally prepared meal was long before he even arrived in Yhordran. His diet had mostly been small game he caught himself, fruits, vegetables, and bread since then. The knight definitely doesn''t want to let this opportunity go to waste, and decides to relish in the meat''s delectable taste at a deliberate speed. After all, it might be the last chance he gets.

    About thirty minutes later, Atticus finally clears his plate and leaves the eatery. The sun still burns brightly in the pre-noon sky. With his belly full thanks to a hefty breakfast, he hauls his saddlebag and grocery sack to the stable, which is a bit vacant now due to many Mistwalkers having taken their horses into the fog. The knight soon follows suit by entering Annaliese''s stall, greeting her with a gentle caress, and quickly saddling and equipping her. Before he can mount his loyal mare, he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

    ¡°Well, if it isn''t the scary-looking knight.¡± Edith Hollis walks up to the stall with a warm and welcoming smile. She leans against the top of the open stall gate, her chin resting on her crossed arms. ¡°I was surprised to come out earlier this morning and still see your mare here. You struck me as the type to leave at the crack of dawn like the more serious types.¡±

    ¡°''Make haste slowly.''¡± Responds the knight. ¡°Have you heard of that saying?¡±

    ¡°I haven''t.¡± The farm girl replies with a small shake of her head.

    ¡°It means that the fastest way to accomplish something is to perform at a measured pace.¡±

    ¡°That sounds reasonable. Where''d you learn it?¡±

    ¡°I had it beaten into my head ¨C both figuratively and literally ¨C by an old instructor many years ago.¡±

    ¡°Does it also mean you intend to spend quite some time beyond the gate?¡± Edith''s face becomes a bit serious. ¡°Alone?¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡± The knight bluntly responds. ¡°I''m not against the possibility of joining up with others I come across, but most of the time, I perform better when I''m on my own.¡±

    There''s a brief pause of the young woman continuing her dejected stare at the knight. ¡°I used to consider myself lucky that I have no obligation to walk into the mist like Legion soldiers do.¡± Edith begins. ¡°But eventually I realized that my safety is one hole in the wall away from being endangered.¡± Her head hangs slightly, and her eyes drift toward a ground. Atticus doesn''t respond, and instead watches her, giving her room to continue. ¡°I''m reminded of the fact every day, when I watch dozens of people walk through the gates in the morning, but only a fraction return by nightfall; and when riderless horses make their way back on their own. I''ve spoken to many Mistwalkers, like I do with you now.¡± Her eyes come back up and meet with the knight''s. ¡°I would like to finally meet someone I can speak to a second time.¡±

    There''s another short lull in the exchange as Atticus examines the quiet desperation on Edith''s face. ¡°I can''t make any promises. All I can give you is my intent to reach the source of the mist, destroy it, and return.¡±

    A sad smile crosses the young woman''s face. ¡°I feel like I can believe you when you say that. That''s the one difference you have from many others ¨C you look more than capable.¡±

    The knight takes in her hopeful gaze for a brief moment before finally mounting his four-legged companion. He finally dons his helmet, and is now fully equipped to depart. Annaliese trots out of the stall, and stops for Atticus to bid farewell.

    ¡°I do hope to achieve my goal and return in good health. If I do, I''ll tell you all about my journey.¡±

    ¡°I''d like that.¡± Edith responds with an encouraging smile. ¡°Good luck, and stay safe.¡±

    Atticus nods, and quietly rides out of the stable, with Edith watching him depart. Back on the dirt path to the big gate, he walks up to the slightly elevated sortie booth, where two men work together to stamp cards. They both have a strong resemblance to each other, each with wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and similar faces. They both have a short line before them, so the knight simply stands at the one closest to him, retrieving his card from one of his bags and proceeding to wait. Most of the other Mistwalkers waiting to receive a stamp don''t have horses like he does, and the horses that are there are being used as simple beasts of burden to carry various items as opposed to riding.

    Considering the amount of miles one would have to cover to reach the source of the mist, it''s not recommended to travel solely on foot, but perhaps they have their reasons. Most of the land to the north is open fields, farms, and forests; hardly any large stretch of area is totally void of foliage. If it''s true that the fog doesn''t affect plants, as the stern-looking man with dreadlocks mentioned earlier, then traveling by foot could be perfectly viable with frequent foraging. However, due to the amount of equipment the knight has with him, not having a horse to carry it all could open the door for quite a hassle.

 II. Into the Abyss (Section 3)

    After a few minutes of waiting, Atticus finally reaches the booth and slides his card towards the booth manager, who accepts while looking up at the knight.

    ¡°First outing, huh?¡± He asks while inking his stamp. ¡°You look like you can handle yourself, though. More so than these other schmucks.¡± He quickly slams the stamp on the left-most square on the first row, then grabs a quill, inks it, and writes the date and time under the same square. ¡°Good luck.¡± The booth manager utters half-heartedly while handing the card back. It''s hard to blame him. Considering the tediousness of his job and number of people who pass through the gate per day, he must have regurgitated the phrase thousands of times by now. Atticus recalls a similar attitude from Eileen, the girl who runs the registration counter in headquarters.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± The knight replies automatically while taking the card. ¡°Before I leave, I have a few questions.¡±

    ¡°Shoot.¡± The booth manager replies immediately.

    ¡°Have you heard anything about plants in the misted area being safe to eat?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± The man answers with a nod. ¡°A good amount of people who do manage to come back have mentioned it. But, of course, they''re usually just talking about what''s leftover from the farms around here. The further in you go, the denser the fog becomes, so if you venture far enough, you could reach a point where plants are effected. But that part is just my guess.¡±

    ¡°I see. My other question is: how far is the closest Legion checkpoint from here?¡±

    ¡°All of the Legion checkpoints are purposely placed about fifty miles from each other, so it''s possible to go from one to the other in a single day, even on foot. Do you have a map of the area?¡±

    The knight shakes his head. ¡°No, I don''t.¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± The man looks underneath the counter, and pulls out a rolled up sheet of paper. He holds it out to Atticus. ¡°This is a map of the effected area. The red dots on it are locations of checkpoints.¡±

    The black-clad knight takes it and unrolls it to examine the contents. There are indeed multiple red dots scattered among the southern half of the contaminated land that are about equal distance away from each other. And, just as Tarvus told him, there are no dots in the northern half, signifying that there really weren''t any checkpoints past the half-way point.

    Atticus rolls the paper back up. ¡°Thank you. This will be helpful.¡±

    ¡°No problem. Take care of yourself out there.¡±

    The knight gives one last grateful nod before turning his mare and trotting to the gate, which was ajar just enough for Mistwalkers to pass in and out. He crosses the threshold with little urgency. Once the gate is several paces behind him, he stops and examines the surrounding area and horizon ahead. There are multiple other Mistwalkers walking in various directions, scattering themselves. He senses no real danger right from the get-go, but he''s technically still within the magic barrier''s reach. Either way, he''s officially begun his mission to reach the source of the mist, and silently proceeds forward.

    Atticus and Annaliese are still in the middle of an open grassland with no immediate threats in sight, but he intends to take a straight line to Armasstadt, the presumed center of the mist. There''s only four checkpoints from Zenith Gate to the half-way point, but his journey could potentially be slowed by the forests and villages on his way there; especially the latter, if populated by the ravenous undead. The knight unrolls his newly acquired map to take one more look at it. The first village, Newmanstead, is actually twenty miles directly north of where he is now. Not deterred by the likelihood of danger, he presses on.

    Mere minutes later, the knight in black iron reaches the end of the barrier. He knows this not because it''s a visible, transparent wall, but because he can see the mist itself collecting against an invisible point in the air in front of him, as if a divine line was separating stable civilization from an eerie, blight-stricken hell. He looks through the unseen threshold, peering far into the distance. The mist is thick enough to make visibility cease approximately four hundred feet from where one is standing. Truly, it was like gazing into a totally different world; a bleak, desolate world of grey. It was nothing the knight had ever experienced before, but he remained stone-faced and resolute. After a meditative pause, he and his horse step into the nigh-colorless realm.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Once totally inside the grasp of the fog, Atticus feels no immediate changes in the air aside from the aforementioned limited visibility. He can still safely inhale and exhale as any living creature normally would. The mist does not burn his lungs, nor sting his eyes, nor even strike his nostrils with any putrid odor. However, when he lifts his head upward, he notices that the midday sky is darker than it should be. The fog had risen enough to slightly obscure the sun''s light. This could prove troublesome when judging the time of day; but even worse, it could also transform nighttime into endless, impenetrable darkness ¨C a true abyss. Still, the knight stays calm and continues forward at the pace he''s always been at.

    No doubt, having the color mostly drained from one''s surroundings is far from a boost for morale. The moderately dense fog has transformed an open ocean of lively, lush, green land into a hopeless limbo. The ambiance is undoubtedly eerie and unwelcoming, to the point where the everyday breeze seems like the chill-inducing sensation of a sinister force looming over any would-be hero who dares to step into this domain. The air only fills with the sound of Annaliese''s hooves crushing the dirt beneath her. The utter abandonment of the area by every living creature that once dwelled here has left an incredibly uncomfortable silence. No deer or wild horses are grazing. No wolves are howling. No birds are singing. Not even a fly buzzes around the knight''s head to prove an annoyance ¨C something even he would partly welcome if it meant piercing this uneasy quiet. Now Atticus knows why so many Mistwalkers of weaker mental and emotional fortitude meet their demise only a few miles out; this oppressive environment would have most certainly broken their minds before they would even need to physically engage with an enemy.

    After two hours of slow but alert riding like an armored automaton, the knight stops his mare in her tracks, for he''s finally seen something of interest: a human-shaped figure in the distance. He examines it from where he is, but can''t make out any details due to the distance, so he decides to approach cautiously. The mist slowly clears, and soon, at about a hundred feet away from him is an unknown person, of awkward, weak gait. Their strides are slow, as if their legs are seconds away from buckling underneath them. The unidentifiable individual turns towards Atticus, and begins to pick up speed, attempting to rush at him in aggression incited by his mere presence; however, they''re still quite slow. They''re heaving heavy, coarse breaths ¨C practically growling in an animalistic manner.

    Wasting no time, the knight decides to pull out his bow that was equipped to Annaliese''s side, along with one iron-tipped arrow from the quiver next to it. The angry, nameless somebody lifts their right hand, revealing themself to be wielding a dagger, with the intent of swinging it. Atticus raises his bow, takes aim, and looses the arrow. It cuts through the air with breathtaking speed and pierces the unknown being''s head with a brief cracking sound, and they drop to the ground immediately. The black-clad knight quickly dismounts his horse, grabs an extra arrow, and approaches the corpse, ready to shoot at it again at an instance''s notice.

    Once he''s close enough to confirm his kill, he relaxes his bow and kneels to examine the body. It''s a man, definitely, but something is very wrong with his appearance. Patches of his skin ¨C including most of his face ¨C were a necrotic dark greenish grey; rough and dry, just as the knight had heard about on his way to Zenith Gate. His eyes were a mysterious but mystifying yellow. It''s difficult to discern the dead man''s age, but the thick, dense hair that managed to remain on his head might suggest that he was reasonably young. He''s wearing leather upper body armor, but a wound on his neck shows that it didn''t help much.

    Realizing that he could be a fallen Mistwalker, Atticus begins to pat down the cadaver for a card. He soon finds it in his trouser pocket, folded in half. ¡°Edgar Joyce,¡± the card reads. It had the number ¡°1¡± in the upper right corner, and five stamps ¨C three in departure boxes, two in return boxes. Poor soul only lasted two trips into the fog, and met his fate on the third. The two completed departure and return dates show that he stayed in the fog for only a few hours at a time, probably never venturing past this point to begin with. The third departure date was one week ago, so he''s been in this state for a short while. He probably assumed he was playing it safe by staying close to the wall, and in his complacency, was attacked. Other than the card, dagger, and clothes on his back, Edgar''s corpse carried nothing else on him.

    Satisfied with his search, Atticus pockets the sortie card and pulls the arrow out of the dead man''s head with great force, practically ripping the entire head off the shoulders. He pauses once the arrow is out, and stares at the stiff''s face, half expecting him to get up again, but he doesn''t. The knight wipes away the blood and tiny bits of brain matter that was left on the arrow on Edgar''s pant leg, and returns to Annaliese, who waited patiently the entire time. Together, they continue journeying forward.

 III. Nobodys Home (Section 1)

    About an hour has passed since the knight''s first real encounter with a mist-infected undead, and he is both unsettled and even a bit impressed by how the mist is able to strike a powerful feeling a loneliness and despair into him, even though he knows that hundreds, maybe even thousands of other Mistwalkers are probably wandering the southern area with him at that very moment. For all he knows, a group could be just beyond his range of visibility, but that''s how the morale-breaking isolation created by the mist gets to you: by impairing your vision and always making you unsure of what lies beyond the barrier of grey. It could be friend or foe, fellow Mistwalker or bestial abomination, helpful Legion soldiers or a horde of hostile undead. An inexperienced fighter traveling alone would most certainly be undone by desperation if they decide to frantically search for company with little caution.

    If Atticus knew it was this bad, he''d have been more likely to join a group, possibly the mage''s. However, it''s too late to dwell on ''should haves,'' so he must remain calm and alert until he either reaches the first checkpoint, or meets up with other warriors of sound body and mind, whichever comes first. Of course, he''s planning to cut through the village of Newmanstead to get to where he''s going, and he has no idea of what remains of that place. It''s either a small hell loaded with walking cadavers, or a ghost town of nothing due to frequent plundering. He''s momentarily considered going around, but due to his lack of familiarity with Yhordran, it''s far better for him to stick to the road for as long as he can. Getting lost in the mist could be very, very disasterous, and is likely a major cause of death for Mistwalkers.

    ¡°Help me!¡± A desperate cry is suddenly, but faintly heard from a distance away. Atticus stops his mare and scans his surroundings, but sees no one. It was a slightly high-pitched voice, presumably by someone young. He stays still, waiting for a second shout to help him pinpoint the source.

    ¡°Somebody please!¡± The second cry is heard, and the knight determines that it''s directly ahead of him.

    ¡°Go!¡± Atticus yells, while whipping Annaliese''s reins and nudging her sides with his boots. She takes off at a remarkable speed. She sprints for only a few seconds before someone comes into view: a frantic, panicky young man. He''s standing near a second person, who is sitting on the ground with their back against the trunk of a lone tree on the roadside. Atticus stops his horse, and the unknown fellow runs up to him in a despairing frenzy.

    ¡°Help me, sir knight! Please!¡± The boy is young indeed, no older than sixteen at most. His pale face is dirtied and his short brown hair messied. He certainly had some sort of encounter with an enemy sometime recently. He''s sweating profusely and his glassy eyes are begging for assistance.

    ¡°What''s wrong?¡± Atticus asks with a raised, but composed tone.

    ¡°My father! He''s wounded!¡± The boy points to the man sitting at the base of the tree. He has a large red stain on his shirt that''s spreading down to the top of his trousers. The knight dismounts his horse, walks up to the older fellow, and kneels to examine his condition. The boy follows suit.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°What was he attacked with?¡± Atticus asks as the unknown father continually winces in pain and heaves strained, painful breaths.

    ¡°One of those walking corpses stabbed him with a straightsword while we were further down the road.¡± The boy explains in an uneasy voice.

    ¡°How long ago was that?¡±

    ¡°About ten minutes ago.¡±

    Atticus notices that the father is wearing no semblance of real armor, only normal cotton clothing. He leans forward and tears the middle-aged fellow''s shirt open to get a better view of the injury. It''s a messy, large stab wound on the right side of his chest, between two of his ribs. The straightsword that did it might have gone in clean, but it definitely didn''t stay still while it was in him. The knight looks up at the man''s face. He''s very pale, and there''s blood dripping from his mouth and off his chin. He suddenly lets out a violent cough that only sprays more blood outward.

    ¡°Father, no!¡± The boy grabs the older man''s shoulder, his eyes red with tears. ¡°Sir, please, is there anything you can do?¡± He begs the black-clad knight, the only person who could possibly offer some sort of relief or advice.

    Atticus dejectedly looks at the man''s gruesome injury, then back at the boy, and shakes his head. ¡°I''m sorry, boy. His lung is punctured. It''s bad. He''s not going to make it.¡±

    The boy''s mouth becomes agape with disbelief. The tears in his eyes push themselves out and slide down his cheeks. ¡°No... Please, sir, can''t we take him back to Zenith Gate? Maybe he can-¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The knight interrupts the boy''s plea. ¡°It''s been ten minutes. With a wound like that, he won''t last another five. There''s no way we could get back to the gate in that time.¡± He looks at the father''s face once more. The life is nearly completely drained from him already. ¡°Just stay with him.¡±

    ¡°But...¡± The boy wants to argue further, but he looks back at his pale father, barely clinging to life, and realizes it''s futile.

    The dying man slowly lifts his hand with the last remaining ounces of strength in him, and brings it to the boy''s shoulder. He forces himself to utter a whisper. ¡°I''m sorry.¡± He says. ¡°I shouldn''t have brought us here.¡±

    The boy tearfully responds. ¡°No, it''s my fault. I forced you to go, and I forced you to let me go with you. You did nothing wrong.¡±

    The wounded man smiles sadly. Tears of his own emerge from his eyes. ¡°Take care of your mother and sister, okay?¡±

    ¡°I will.¡± The boy immediately replies. ¡°I promise.¡±

    The man, satisfied with his final words, quietly closes his eyes. He breathes in and out, at a measured pace, but they soon become slower and shallower. Eventually, they stop entirely. The boy is crushed, and falls forward onto his dead father''s chest, sobbing loudly. His weeping is the only sound that echoes through the eerie fog. The knight pays his respects to the man by removing his helment and giving a silent bow of his head. He stands up and takes a few steps into the road to give the boy a moment alone.

    The tragic scene makes Atticus consider how many Mistwalkers traveling in groups have experienced a similar circumstance as this father and son pair have right now. How many have seen their parent die since the mist appeared? A sibling? A cousin? A child? A spouse? The pain of watching someone you love waste away before your eyes is a pain that seizes your soul, twisting and crushing it until the power of time itself eventually makes it let go, which isn''t a certainty to begin with. Even if you are freed, a stinging sensation will always remain. It''s a pain that Atticus is far too well-acquainted with. His past failure haunts him.

 III. Nobodys Home (Section 2)

    A few minutes later, the boy ceases his cries and lifts himself to his feet. ¡°Sir.¡± He says to the knight between sniffs. ¡°What do I do now?¡±

    ¡°You need to go back to the gate.¡± Atticus says bluntly.

    ¡°But... what about my father''s body?¡± The lad asks as he turns to the deceased man, desperation reigniting in his eyes.

    ¡°You can''t drag it with you. Are those yours?¡± The knight points to the ground next to the older man''s corpse. There''s two shortswords and a round leather shield sitting on the ground.

    ¡°One of the swords is mine. The other sword and shield belonged to my father.¡±

    Atticus walks up to the equipment and picks up one of the swords. It''s cheaply made, but serviceable, as is the shield. He hands both of the items to the young man.

    ¡°Here. Take these and go.¡±

    The boy hesitantly takes the sword and shield with a bewildered expression. ¡°But... There''s no way I can make it back on my own.¡±

    ¡°Let me ask you something.¡± The knight becomes stern. ¡°Why were you and your father out here? What''s your reason?¡±

    ¡°We...¡± The boy stalls with reluctance, but soon forces his story out. ¡°We used to live in Newmanstead, the village further up north. We left in a blind rush once we we heard of the mist coming towards us. Our family now shares a home with my uncle ¨C father''s brother ¨C and aunt, in Evatica. We''re grateful to them for taking us in, but... My father recently decided he didn''t want to impose any longer, so he began searching for work, and I joined him, but we couldn''t find anyone who would hire us.

    ¡°Then I remembered my grandmother''s treasure; a small box of silver cups, necklaces, bracelets, and rings that we kept hidden underneath our dining room, beneath the wooden floor and a layer of bricks. I told my father we should retrieve it. He said that it surely would have been looted by now, but... I urged him on and on until he gave in. So he decided to go, and I said I would go with him. He said he didn''t want it, but I said if the both of us were beyind the barrier, we''d both make a wage, and he eventually conceded that, too. So we used the little coin we had to buy these cheap swords and shield and hire a carriage to take us to the gate, and we left for Newmanstead this morning, and... And...¡± Once again, tears start to well up in the boy''s eyes.

    ¡°Continue.¡± Atticus urges him on in a calm voice.

    ¡°We... we got to our old house, and...¡± The boy''s crying continues to escalate, but he pushes his words past his sobs. ¡°Father was right. The treasure had been looted... Someone plundered our home and took it.¡± He begins to weep again, and occasionally screams out his blame. ¡°It''s my fault! I should have listened! I forced him to come here! I knew of the dangers, but I forced him anyway! For nothing!¡±

    The knight, now informed of the situation, approaches the boy and place his hands on the lad''s trembling shoulders. ¡°Listen. When you are faced with a great loss, the best thing you can possibly do is pick yourself up and continue on. Do not let grief sap your spirit from you nor take away the parts of you that made you the son your father loved.¡±

    He speaks sincerely from experience, but he also wonders if he is being hypocritical. Did running away from his home automatically take away from the person he once was? Did it mean the grief did take his spirit? His sympathetic lecture continues.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°It hurts, and it will continue to hurt for a long time. You may feel the need to search for something to fill the hole in your heart, but the worst thing that you can allow is for the heartache to take your life. Men can only die once, so do not die in vain.¡±

    The boy''s glassy, moist eyes meet with the knight''s expression of deep empathy, and knows his words come from a place of authenticity. He takes a deep breath and calms his voice down. ¡°So what do I do now?¡± The boy asks.

    Atticus nods lightly in approval at the boy''s attempt to steel his resolve. ¡°First, did your father have his card on him? You''ll need to take it to headquarters so they''ll know he has passed.¡±

    ¡°I... I think so.¡± The boy turns to look at his father''s body timidly, but is unable to search for the card himself.

    The knight walks up to the corpse and begins to pat it down thoroughly. He eventually finds the card tucked into the waistband of the father''s trousers. ¡°Your father is ''Willard Reese?''¡± The knight asks.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The boy answers.

    Atticus stands up, and hands the card over. ¡°Take this card, and that sword and shield, and follow the road south.¡± He points to the direction from where he came. ¡°Do not stop for anything. If you come across an undead, run past them if you can. I cannot take you there myself, for I must reach the first Legion checkpoint by nightfall.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure it''s safe?¡± The boy asks, hesitant to go anywhere alone.

    ¡°On my way here, I only came across one of them, which I killed. You should be fine. But you need to hurry. The sun will begin to set before you get there, and due to the mist blocking some of the light from the sun and moon, it will become darker earlier. What is your name?¡±

    ¡°Willard Reese, just as my father.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Willard, son of Willard, make your way back to Zenith Gate. Live on, not just for yourself, but also for your father. He said you have a sister and mother to look after, right? Do it for them, too.¡±

    The boy pauses for one more reluctant moment as he looks to the misty southern path back to the gate, but he looks back to the confident knight and nods with his new resolve. ¡°Okay. I will.¡±

    ¡°Good. Here.¡± Atticus retrieves his coin purse from one of the saddlebags, and pulls out one silver coin, which he hands to the boy. ¡°With this and the coins you will get once you turn in your father''s card, you should have enough for an overnight stay at the inn, some food, and a carriage ride back to the capital.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir knight.¡± The boy''s face turns from grief and panic to gratitude and relief.

    ¡°Think nothing of it. Now go. Hurry.¡± The knight nudges Willard down the southern road, and the boy begins his journey with a jog. ¡°Stop for nothing, young Willard!¡± He shouts one last piece of encouragement, before the boy''s figure slowly fades into the cover of the grey fog.

    As Atticus places his helmet back on, thinks about whether or not he really helped the boy enough to ensure his safety. Maybe he should''ve taken him to the gate with Annaliese, but, as selfish as it may sound, the knight does want to catch up to the mage''s group, and escorting Willard would have undone all the progress he made today. He isn''t completely sure why he feels so inclined towards that unknown pyromancer, but after hearing more of the dangers of the affected region, he feels more compelled to possibly join up with a group of fellow Mistwalkers, though that might just be an easy excuse. The knight thinks about the unfortunate boy and his ill-fated father, and quietly hopes the lad has the courage and will to survive and carry on as a son and brother once he returns home.

    After the knight''s introspective moment, he hears the rustling of dirt and grass nearby. He notices nothing that he hasn''t seen around him already, until the sound is heard again, and his attention is drawn to the body of the elder Willard. He watches the corpse attentively for a brief, perplexed moment. The body''s limbs twitch and spasm grotesquely until its motor functions develop the wherewithal to move in slightly more natural motions and with intent.

    The undead Willard manages to push himself up to his feet, where he leers at the knight with threateningly mystifying yellow eyes constrasting with his grey, pale skin. He pathetically shuffles towards Atticus one short, awkward stride at a time with unintelligible, bestial snarls and growls coming from his mouth. The knight is frozen in both puzzlement and keen interest in this birth of a new undead, but once the walking corpse nearly enters arm''s reach, he unsheaths his heavily worn straightsword and unleashes a strong horizontal swing at neck level, severing the formerly living man''s head from his shoulders as easily as cutting through the air itself. The cadaver falls where it stood with a thud, and the head rolls several feet away.

 III. Nobodys Home (Section 3)

    The strange encounter leaves the knight quite bemused. He had no idea that the mist would reanimate bodies in mere minutes. He had assumed it might have taken days. Whatever the mist does to one''s body, it obviously does not require blood to still flow through your veins for your corpse to stand up and move again. Can this happen to any body, regardless of the cause of death? It seems that direct damage to the brain, or beheading in general is the most effective means of stopping them. Either way, it''s fortunate that young Willard had already departed. Who knows how he would''ve reacted if he saw this. Atticus doesn''t know of all the mysterious ways the mist works, but he uncovers things bit by bit. Now is not the time for study and contemplation, however, as he shakes his head of distracting thoughts and climbs on to Annaliese''s back and continues forward.

    Another two hours of trotting at a deliberate pace, and no other undead had been encountered, but trees are starting to become more common. The knight ascertains that he''s likely closing in on another forest; the one where the first Legion checkpoint rests. There, he intends to stay overnight and continue his journey in the morning. He doesn''t want to travel at night by himself if he can help it, and the sun that is resting in the mist-obscured sky is already descending from its apex. He''s surprised at the lack of rotting enemies he''s come across since parting ways with young Willard, but assumes that they''ve spread out more and more over the months, due to their aimless wandering. As for young Willard, he must be about halfway to Zenith Gate by now. If he was lucky, he might have stumbled upon another charitable Mistwalker with a horse to take him the rest of the way.

    As Atticus passes time with various thoughts, he comes across a large wooden sign at the side of the road, weathered and partly rotted by an absolute lack of maintenance for months. It reads ¡°Newmanstead.¡± He and Annaliese pass it, and soon after, short wooden fences come into view, surrounding the perimeter of the village. Behind those fences are multiple homes, all dilapidated and messied by the same lack of care the sign had seen, but exacerbated by likely looting. Some homes are in front of a clearing of what seems to be the remains of patches of small farmland. Thankfully, the knight still had his apples and peaches, so he felt no need to risk eating mist-exposed fruits and vegetables at the moment.

    He does become curious, however, at what these abandoned buildings might be hiding inside them. He doesn''t wish to unnecessarily waste any time, as daylight will be precious commodity on this side of the barrier, but he feels a sense of obligation to patrol the area for the sake of Mistwalkers who will pass through after him, especially the foolish, ill-prepared, inexperienced commoners who might venture into the fog and make it this far only for the coin. Old and young Willard come to mind, but at least they had good reason to be here. There''s also a tiny chance he could find someone holed up in one of the homes. Part of him would also like to find some coins or small valuables to sell, but he knows that''s probably not a realistic expectation at this point. He heaves a small sigh and dismounts his horse, taking only his dagger in expectation of a potential encounter.

    He calmly approaches the first house he sees: a small, modest place. The door is already slightly ajar, so he pushes it inward lightly, and it simply swings open the rest of the way on its own. He peers in from outside, standing adjacent to the doorway to view the interior from a safe point. The whole house is just one large room with two empty beds, broken wooden stools, storage chests, and a fire pit for cooking. Of course, all the furniture is damaged and various small items are strewn about, and it goes without saying that the chests are open and totally empty. Who knows how many people came here and attempted to find new plunder?

    Satisfied, he moves on to the second house, which is directly across the dirt path. It''s slightly larger and has an attached pig pen, which contains no remnants of the animals that dwelled there, excluding the dried-up, rancid gruel in the feeding tub. The door into the home is wide open, so he peeks in and is greeted with another scene that showed signs of repeated attempts at looting. There''s one bedroom near the back of the home, so he steps inside, making sure to lift his feet over the dismantled furniture. His boots press down on the dry, filthy wooden floor panels weakened by months of being exposed to the elements and covered in dirt, which causes some audible crunch noises with each step. He reaches the bedroom, and sees what he expected to see: an opened and empty storage chest, a bed left as a wooden frame after being stripped of its cotton and furs, and no sign of anyone having lived there in months. Are looters even taking feather mattresses?Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Once back outside, he walks to the third house, which is next door to the second and has a patch of potato farmland behind it. Again, the front door is wide open, and the front room has a fire pit and tipped over dining table. However, something catches the knight''s eye. Underneath the table is wooden panels of the floor, lifted and moved to the side, and underneath the spot they were in is broken bricks covering a small empty hole. He recalls young Willard''s description of the location of his grandmother''s treasure box, and puts two and two together: this is the Reese residence. Staring at the empty hole, Atticus does believe that a small chest could fit inside. It''s saddening that their fortune was stolen from them by plunderers, but expected. It''s not as if they didn''t have a good hiding spot for it, but you can''t hide many things from a particularly clever thief. Other than that, there''s nothing of interest in this room, so he moves to the short hallway leading to two bedrooms facing each other. The left seems to be the parents'' room, with one large bed, again stripped of its mattress and cottons, and the right is for the children, which has two smaller beds. Everything of even mild value has been taken, of course.

    He approaches the fourth house, which is directly across the path from the Reeses'' old home. Unlike the previous buildings, the front door is tightly shut. Atticus tries to push it open with steadily increasing force, but it''s absolutely sealed. He walks up to a near window, but notices that it''s partially covered by wooden boards. The middle board had been broken toward the interior from outside, meaning someone already probably tried to get in at some point in the past. The knight leans toward the window and peers inside. He sees an interior similar to the second house, but is caught off guard by an unsettling sight: a corpse at the dining table; it''s back facing towards the window and door. It''s bent over, with its face down and arms stretched forward across the surface of the tabletop.

    Curious as to whether it is undead or not, Atticus knocks on the wooden boards to try and catch its attention. First is a series of soft knocks. No response. Then he knocks three more times, slightly harder and louder. Still no response. He contemplates leaving well enough alone, as even if it were mobile, it''ll be trapped inside, but his curiosity gets the better of him. The knight approaches the door once again and takes a deep breath. With one incredibly strong kick with all of his weight behind it, he manages to force the door open and practically off its hinges. He looks back at the village behind him to make sure the crashing noise hasn''t attracted any unwanted attention, and fortunately sees nothing other than Annaliese, who is still standing patiently.

    Inside the house, a lot of furniture has actually remained intact, albeit also covered in a thick layer dust. At the fire pit, plates, pots, and pans are stacked neatly to the side, and stools still sit upright with all of their legs attached. No tables are overturned. Storage chests and tied up sacks remain sealed. He stands before the dining table where the body rests, and sees little disturbance around it. It''s mostly bone, but patches of greyish flesh remain, and has a foul, rotten odor coming from it. It''s obviously been sitting there for quite some time ¨C possibly since the very day the mist came in. The knight''s investigative gaze slowly drops to the floor below the cadaver, where he sees a lone bloodied dagger. He cautiously approaches the unknown stiff from the left side, and notices two new details: remains of longs whiskers on its face ¨C proving it to be a man ¨C and long-dried blood coming from a wound on his neck, staining his clothes and some of the floor under him. Judging by the what he sees, Atticus can only assume it was self-inflicted.

 III. Nobodys Home (Section 4)

    The knight turns to a long, red drapery hanging from the wall, covering a threshold leading into another room. He walks to it and pushes the fabric aside and finds a second body, lying neatly on a large bed that still bears its mattress and cottons, also decomposed beyond immediate recognition, just as the corpse at the table. Judging by it''s shorter stature and few remaining strands of long hair, it most likely had been a woman. She''s facing up, with her hands over her chest, and a blanket covering her from waist to feet.

    Next to the head of the bed is something that strikes unease into the knight''s heart when he sees it: a toddler''s wooden cradle. He takes a few apprehensive steps forward and carefully brings the interior of the cradle into view, silently hoping to not see what he thinks he might. He spies a bundle of cloth wrapped around something, in the vague shape of a small human. He lets out a sigh of sudden, overwhelming regret, and looks back at the presumed mother, only to notice a detail he did not catch seconds before: about a centimeter of space separating her head ¨C which rests unstirred on a feather pillow ¨C from her body.

    Having seen enough, he turns and retreats to the first room, where he leers at the body on the dining table. Remembering its wound, he realizes that it might still be capable of moving and attacking because its brain is still attached to the rest of its body and essentially undamaged. The knight draws his dagger from its sheath and holds it in an icepick grip in his right hand. He raises it above his head, and forcefully stabs it down into the back of the cadaver''s neck, severing the brain stem from the rest of the spine. It twitches slightly and only utters out one short grunt in reaction, but stays quiet and motionless afterward, now properly dead.

    Decided he''s finished with this house, he makes his way out, and while doing so, quietly retracts the earlier thought of hoping to find coin in these abandoned homes. Part of him wants to believe that scene was just a creation of his imagination ¨C that the mist is plaguing him with visions. He realizes his eyes are moist and removes his helmet; terrible thoughts are being brought back to the front of his mind that he wished to forget. He wipes his budding tears before they have a chance to break free from his lids, and pinches the bridge of his nose with his shuddering hand. He takes a moment to take a deep breath, collecting himself before he continues his patrol.

    Over half an hour passes, and the remaining homes contain nothing else worth mentioning. They only bestowed more dirt, broken stools and chairs, overturned tables, empty chests, bare bed frames, and the occasional blood stain that left no clues as to where the victim had gone. Presumably they reanimated and began wandering beyond the near area, but if they''re no longer inside the village of Newmanstead, then they are no longer the knight''s immediate problem. Fully satisfied with his patrol, he lets out a loud whistle that rings through the ghost town, and faithful Annaliese comes racing to him. As the sky begins to turn a darker shade of greyish blue, daylight begins to fade. He wastes no time in mounting his horse and riding off with more haste than before, as he doesn''t wish to be blinded by the imminent darkness.

    As Annaliese dashes from the derelict village to make up for lost time, the knight still can''t shake the terrible, gut-wrenching scene he witnessed in the sealed house with the bodies from his mind. Who were those people? It can be assumed they were a family of man, woman, and child, but they were so close to the safety of the barrier. Why did they not leave with the others as the mist moved in? Simple sentimental attachment to the land? Poorly-planned opportunism to take advantage of their neighbors'' abandoned homes, goods, and belongings? At what point did they seal themselves in like that? Did the man do it on his own after his child and wife had faded away? Did they die of starvation? Did they go mad at some point? So many questions ring in Atticus''s mind, and likely none will be answered.

    He begins to wonder if any other families refused refuge in the south, opting for an endeavor to outlast the presence of the fog that had engulfed their home. It''s of no doubt that all attempts at such have surely ended in failure by now. This leads him to consider who is to blame for such tragedies, specifically who is to blame for the mist being here for this long? The Yhordran Legion? The Mistwalkers? Whoever unleashed the mist is clearly guilty, but is the ever-increasing death count beyond the initial losses considered a responsibility heaved onto the shoulders of one institution or the other? Is the Legion incompetent? Are the Mistwalkers an ill-prepared plan? The concept of ¡°blame¡± is something that''s been weighing on his mind for many, many, many days, and isn''t showing any signs of stopping.

    Annaliese''s astounding equine stamina and speed carry the two of them just shy of four miles in approximately fifteen minutes before she decides to slow down her pace and catch her breath. Thanks to this lead, the knight is confident he''ll reach the first checkpoint before the sun disappears behind the horizon and an impregnable darkness absorbs the area. He notices that more trees have begun to surround the road, and the foliage has been slowly growing taller and denser since departing Newmanstead. He must now effectively be inside the Levinburg Forest, named after the town located near the center, about twenty miles past the checkpoint he''s headed towards. Tomorrow, the knight will need to cut through Levinburg as he did Newmanstead, but in that instance, he isn''t so sure the forest town will as free of hostile shambling corpses like the modestly small village was. Considering his lack of knowledge on the region, there''s plenty of room for him to be surprised. But he''ll cross that bridge when he reaches it.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    The late afternoon sun, whose light is already partially obscured by the high fog, already dyes the land an increasingly dark blue. As the black-clad knight grows more curious of his approach to the first Legion checkpoint, the mist ahead clears, and he finally sees it: a gated area with watch towers and guards wearing standard Legion armor, decorated with a cloth draped down their torso that features the Yhordran coat of arms: a ferocious blue wolf standing on its hind legs and facing to the left, inside a silver floral tressure, on a black background. Another magical barrier established by an arcane crystal is visible here, due to higher density caused by taking up a smaller area. He crosses the threshold, and suddenly feels as though the breathable air had become cleaner. As he approaches the open gates, he''s stopped by one of the two Legion soldiers protecting it.

    ¡°Hold, sir. Are you a Mistwalker?¡± He inquires.

    ¡°I am.¡± Atticus replies monotonically.

    ¡°Do you have your card on you?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡±

    ¡°May I see it?¡±

    The knight retrieves the card from his bag and hands it to the soldier, who only gives it a quick glance before being content and returning it. ¡°First time here, then? Very well. This is Legion Checkpoint Eowerth. You''ll be able to get a stamp at headquarters over there.¡± He points to a large cabin that has a banner hanging over the entrance with the coat of arms on it. ¡°It''s also the dining hall. You can get your fill there. There''s an open barracks next to it where you can sleep if you don''t have a tent of your own.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± The knight responds with a nod, and doesn''t waste any precious seconds making his way inside. When he passes and leaves earshot, the other soldier leans in towards the first one.

    ¡°You see that armor he''s wearing?¡± The second soldier asks with a face that slightly twisted with curiosity and confusion.

    ¡°Yeah, it looks fancy.¡± The first soldier replies, admiring the knight''s iron suit from afar. ¡°You think it''s foreign?¡±

    ¡°Definitely.¡± The second soldier nods his head. ¡°It might not even be his, though.¡±

    ¡°Either way, I''ve never seen anything like it. I wish we had armor that nice.¡± The first soldier lets out a sigh before both of them return to their duties.

    Atticus notices multiple hitching posts in front of the headquarters, which are in front of their own troughs of water and large piles of hay for the horses to stuff themselves with. There''s several horses already there, some of which he feels he''s seen before. He brings Annaliese to join them, and she wastes no time in filling her belly.

    Atticus frees his head from his stifling plumed helmet and enters Eowerth headquarters, finding himself in a lobby with a single counter to the left manned by another Legion soldier, and two others standing guard next to a closed door ahead. To the right is open double doors that seem to lead into the dining hall. He attends to his official Mistwalker business first by stepping towards the counter with his sortie card in hand.

    ¡°A Mistwalker?¡± The lone soldier at the counter asks.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The knight slides his card over, and the soldier examines it.

    ¡°Reached Eowerth on your first outing, huh? That''s a bit rare. At least, on days other than today.¡± He begins to ink a stamp that''s much smaller than what the sortie booth managers back at Zenith Gate use.

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    ¡°Well, a group of five came a bit earlier. All of them are on their first ever venture into the mist, as well. They''re in the dining hall.¡± The soldier firmly presses the stamp on the corner of the left-most top square of the card, slightly overlapping the stamp received from the booth at Zenith Gate.

    Atticus becomes noticeably interested in the aforementioned group that arrived before him. ¡°Do they have a mage with them?¡±

    ¡°They do, actually. A young woman ¨C red stones in her bracelet, so I assume a pyromancer?¡± The soldier slides the card back to the knight. ¡°I can count on one hand the number of mages that I''ve seen here. Do you know her?¡±

    Atticus hesitates for a brief moment before exaggerating his personal affiliation with the mage. ¡°We''re acquainted.¡± He says. ¡°Where is she now?¡±

    ¡°She and her group should still be in the dining hall, back there.¡± The soldier points to the open double doors across the room. ¡°They came in a little bit ago. Haven''t seen them leave yet.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Thank you.¡± The knight takes his card back and looks at the two soldiers guarding the single closed door at the wall facing the entrance. ¡°By the way, where does that door lead?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that''s the captain''s quarters, which also leads to the armory. He''s a very private man; doesn''t come out much unless he has to, or he wants to eat.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Atticus quietly decides what lies beyond the door has nothing to do with him and pays it no mind. ¡°Well, I''ll be having my dinner, then. Thank you for the stamp.¡±

    ¡°No problem, sir. Enjoy your meal.¡± Both men exchange departing nods, and the knight turns to enter the dining hall.

 IV. The Band United (Section 1)

    The Checkpoint Eowerth dining hall features a large of selection of food at the end of the room, not too dissimilar from Tarvus''s eatery back at Zenith Gate, but only a tad smaller. Mistwalkers and Legion soldiers are free to grab what they wish, and a cook is on hand to make specially ordered dishes or to put meat on the fire. There are many long tables to sit at with enough room for every soldier stationed at the checkpoint, plus a certain number of Mistwalker guests.

    Upon first entering, the knight sees about a dozen soldiers already feasting on their dinner; most of them in groups, some alone. They seem to be in slightly higher spirits compared to the Mistwalkers at Tarvus''s place, which is odd considering their location, but perhaps they''re making the most of it. The group in the hall that stands out most to Atticus, however, is the five he saw earlier that morning, before finally departing Zenith Gate: the mage and her comrades, sitting together near the middle of the room; the man with dreadlocks, the rogue Kellar, and the archer on one side of the table, and the mage and the brawny Royd opposite them. Trying not to make a spectacle of himself, the knight goes to the library of food at the end of the hall, picks up a plate, and slowly begins to put together his meal. His attempt at being low-profile doesn''t work much, however, as they begin to stare at and whisper about him regardless.

    ¡°Didn''t we see that knight earlier this morning?¡± Kellar, the slim man with daggers on his waist asks aloud to no particular person.

    ¡°We did.¡± The supposed leader with dreadlocks and thick goatee responds in his low, commanding voice. ¡°I clearly remember his armor, at least. We left Zenith Gate before he did, but he seems to have made it this far just fine.¡±

    ¡°He seems to be alone.¡± Kellar adds. ¡°Want to ask him to join up with us?¡±

    ¡°I''m not against it. Does anyone have issue with the idea?¡± He asks the remaining members of the team.

    ¡°He looks more than capable.¡± Royd responds. ¡°If he can at least make it this far on his own, I''d say he''s worth having.¡±

    ¡°I have no issue with it.¡± The archer succinctly gives his thoughts.

    ¡°And you, girl?¡± Kellar asks the mage, who has yet to say anything. ¡°You alright with inviting the fella in the black armor to accompany us from now on?¡±

    She doesn''t respond immediately, instead deciding to look over at Atticus, who is still perusing the collection of foods, his back facing her. After a considerate moment, she turns to Kellar and merely nods.

    ¡°Guess that''s decided then.¡± Kellar summarizes with some enthusiasm. ¡°I''ll get his attention when he fills his plate.¡±

    ¡°Try not to annoy him to the point where he rejects our offer just so he doesn''t have to hear you talk, Kellar.¡± The muscular Royd slides in an barbed comment with a smirk.

    ¡°I have more charisma is my little toe than you do in your whole body.¡± Kellar fires back. ¡°What are you going to do, try and bond over all the fuckin'' raw elk meat you eat while thumping your chest like a gorilla, you buffoon?¡±

    ¡°I don''t eat elk meat raw, you damned¨C¡±

    ¡°Excuse me, knight!¡± The leader overpowers the bickering to catch the attention of Atticus, who had gathered his food and was fixing to pass the group by. ¡°Would you mind joining us?¡±

    The knight is very surprised at the invitation, which causes him to hesitate, but he notices the young mage woman looking at him with an expectant gaze. ¡°Sure.¡± He responds.

    ¡°Have a seat.¡± The unknown man gestures towards the empty stool next to the mage.

    Atticus obliges and sits down. ¡°What is it that you need of me?¡±

    ¡°First of all, I''d like to introduce myself.¡± The man with dreadlocks begins in a very polite, diplomatic manner. ¡°I am Veros Quintum, a Mistwalker, like you. Obviously. My band and I were wondering if you were willing to ride with us.¡±

    ¡°This is sudden.¡± The knight can''t help but voice his thoughts. ¡°Why the invitation? Do you know me from somewhere?¡±

    ¡°No, no. I do not.¡± Veros shakes his head. ¡°I simply recall seeing you back at Zenith Gate this morning. I figured if you could make it this far into the mist without a scratch on you in a single day, you may be worth inviting.¡± Veros offers his explanation while Royd quietly nods along for some reason.

    ¡°I''m sure you probably noticed just as well as I did that there weren''t many undead wandering along the road on the way here.¡± Atticus retorts, downplaying his own self-reliance and skill to try and dig at any deeper meaning to the request. ¡°It wouldn''t be much of a feat to make it this far.¡±

    ¡°True enough, but the mist does expose those who are weak of mind early on. And it breaks them. Here you are, having a conversation with me without the slightest hint of mental or emotional exhaustion. You don''t seem fazed in the slightest at the journey you just had, and you made it in one day, alone. I assume you are traveling alone, yes?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± The knight answers, and then scans the other faces around him at the table. Kellar and Royd seem optimistic, the archer looks quite listless as though he doesn''t care one way or the other. The mage, who is right next to Atticus, is staring at him so intently that he almost begins to wonder if her pyromancy extends to heat vision, because her explicit gaze is beginning to make him feel a bit flustered. ¡°What exactly is it that you wish to accomplish here, in the fog?¡± He continues the discussion with an honest question.

    ¡°Well, we all have our different reasons, but personally, I do want to save Yhordran, first and foremost.¡±

    ¡°So you intend to go reach the source of the mist, which is allegedly at or around Armasstadt, correct?¡±

    ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°We''re open to having our minds changed, though.¡± Kellar cracks what may or may not be a joke, which is met with complete, silent inattention by Veros, and a threatening stare by Royd.Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Is there any reason I should doubt the integrity of you or your men?¡± The knight asks with stone-faced seriousness. ¡°Does anyone here have a history that would make me second-guess placing my life in their hands?¡±

    ¡°Good question.¡± Royd interjects. ¡°Do you, Kellar?¡± He shoots a poisonous glare at the bald man.

    ¡°Hey, I may jape and give voice to my... less fearless thoughts, but I''ve been part of several different bands of people ¨C mercenaries and, yes, even thieves ¨C but I ain''t never let anyone die.¡± Kellar stands his ground resolutely.

    ¡°Do you have any rules regarding loot or plunder?¡± Atticus asks.

    ¡°Well, we''re not necessarily going out of our way to loot anything,¡± Veros begins, ¡°but if we come across any valuables by chance that we can keep for the duration of the journey, then we will split it evenly.¡±

    Atticus seems content with the answer. He looks at everyone''s faces once more, and nothing has changed from the last time he did it ¨C their expressions remain the same. Frankly, he doesn''t know why he''s being so reluctant. Isn''t this what he wanted? He surmises that this caution simply comes from habit.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Atticus says. ¡°I will join you.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic!¡± Veros rejoices. ¡°I''ll give a quick introduction to everyone else. This is Kellar Weylan.¡± He points to the bald man with a patch of hair on his chin.

    ¡°Good to meet ya.¡± Greets Kellar.

    ¡°This big fellow over here is Royd Darvenson.¡±

    ¡°Welcome aboard, knight!¡± Royd says with a lift of his pint.

    ¡°The one with the bow over here is Erik Rocheford.¡±

    ¡°Greetings.¡± Erik says with one courteous bow of his head.

    ¡°And the quiet girl here is called Zyra.¡±

    The mage only nods while maintaining her very strong leer.

    ¡°I am Atticus Dayne.¡± The knight speaks. ¡°I look forward to working with you all.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure is ours, Atticus.¡± Veros offers one last bow of the head. ¡°Now, I apologize for delaying your meal. Please, go ahead and begin eating. We''ve a big day ahead of us tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°We hope to make it to the second checkpoint by sun down, but going through Levinburg might prove burdensome.¡± Royd adds on to tomorrow''s plan while Atticus finally begins to eat his dinner.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Veros continues. ¡°Newmanstead was the only village in our path on our way from Zenith Gate, and it wasn''t a very populated little speck on the map to begin with. Levinburg is much larger, so the threat of undead will be much, much higher than today.¡±

    ¡°And the surrounding forest isn''t going to help our already-limited visibility on our way to ¨C and from ¨C there.¡± Royd tacks on another detail. ¡°Our second day on the journey will be quite a challenge. We could certainly use the assistance of as many able-bodied Mistwalkers as we can get.¡±

    ¡°Are you familiar with this part of Yhordran, Atticus?¡± Veros asks.

    The knight swallows his mouthful of food before answering. ¡°No, I''m not. I was given a map at Zenith Gate, though.¡±

    ¡°As were we, but together, we have varying knowledge of this region, both and first and second hand, and we''re simply heading directly north to Armasstadt, so have no fear about getting lost.¡±

    ¡°That''s good to hear.¡± The knight voices appreciation while taking in another mouthful of his dinner.

    ¡°Our goal is to reach one checkpoint per day until we get half way into the mist. It''s after that point that''s still a mystery.¡±

    ¡°They say damn near no one''s passed the final checkpoint and returned.¡± Kellar chimes in with a foreboding tone.

    ¡°That''s something that we can''t confirm for ourselves until we get there.¡± Royd interjects. ¡°Until then, all this talk of ''no one returns'' shite is just rumors.¡±

    ¡°What else would explain the fact that there aren''t any checkpoints beyond the fifth one?¡± The bald man retorts. ¡°If the Legion managed to set one up, surely we''d know about it, right?¡±

    ¡°But what proof do we have that no Mistwalker had gone beyond that point? Because there aren''t any checkpoints there, it would be unlikely that we''d know for sure if a Mistwalker had been in that area. They''d only get a stamp at the forth checkpoint ¨C the only proof of progress for anyone returning.¡±

    ¡°Then by that logic, why the hell would anyone bother goin'' beyond the forth checkpoint anyway?¡± Kellar fires back in increased volume.

    ¡°Because we''re not the only ones who want to sodding save Yhordran instead of loot dead bodies and abandoned homes!¡± Royd returns his point with his own explosion of voice.

    ¡°Enough, you two.¡± Vero raises his hand between the two men angrily leering at each other. ¡°We''ll cross that bridge when we get to it, and we won''t be getting to it for at least three more days. We have plenty of time to think about it, especially once we actually reach the final checkpoint.¡±

    Atticus was in the middle of chewing his food as the argument broke out. He remembers the two men casually exchanging insults back in Tarvus''s place, and quietly begins to wonder if this is going to be a regular thing he''ll have to put up with for the remainder of his mission.

    ¡°So, dark knight,¡± Veros directs his attention back to Atticus once the two squabbler settle down, ¡°where is it that you hail from?¡±

    The knight doesn''t wish to go too deeply into his background, but he''s going to willingly place his life in their hands, so he should be open about certain things in order to establish trust.

    ¡°Rhodanion.¡± He answers; Yhordran''s neighboring continent to the east, across the Tumarda Ocean.

    ¡°No kiddin''?¡± Kellar can''t help but speak up in surprise. ¡°So people over there know of our mist troubles too, huh?¡±

    ¡°They do.¡± The knight confirms with a nod. ¡°At least at the coast, where Yhordran''s trade ships stop. I was at Port Durley when I first heard the news.¡±

    ¡°Guess it''ll be a matter of time before more Rhodish folk come to test their mettle.¡± Royd comments.

    ¡°Can you imagine a band of Rhodishmen coming and saving Yhordran?¡± Kellar laments in disgust. ¡°It''d make us all look like complete fuckin'' fools to rest of the world. The Legion would look especially bad; like they don''t have what it takes to save their own people.¡±

    ¡°It''d be a blow to their reputation, but it hasn''t been very high recently to begin with.¡± Veros contemplates with a sullen gaze pointed toward the table. ¡°But I''m sure if you ask your average the citizen of Yhordran, they''d say they don''t care who saves them, as long as they''re saved.¡± He dwells on it for another moment, oddly mindful of the subject, then changes direction of his previous thought. ¡°Still though, it''d be in Yhordran''s best interest from a geopolitical perspective if people within our borders managed it. Not that I''m against help from a Rhodishman.¡± Veros directs his last sentence to Atticus with a bow of his head, intending to not mean any offense. The knight doesn''t take any.

    ¡°You being from across the pond explains your unique armor, though.¡± Kellar speaks of the knight''s eye-catching, but heavily worn black iron suit. ¡°I haven''t seen anything like it before. Is it custom made?¡±

    Atticus wasn''t expecting to discuss his armor, but he can tell Veros and Royd are interested in it too. ¡°In sizing, yes. But the design is standard-issue. As is my shield and sword.¡±

    ¡°So it''s been your armor since the day it was made?¡± The bald man asks.

    ¡°It has.¡± The knight replies quickly. ¡°Why? Did you ponder the possibility that I stole it, or perhaps it''s second-hand?¡±

    ¡°I''ll admit, I did.¡± Kellar lifts his hands with his palms facing forward, as if surrendering to the assumption. ¡°Can''t blame me, though. It looks sturdy and expensive. Either you''re an important fellow, or a lucky bandit or buyer.¡± Atticus doesn''t make any additional comments, but Kellar continues to pry. ¡°So... are you an important person?¡±

    Noticing the knight''s subtle discomfort with the conversation, Veros chimes in. ¡°That''s enough, Kellar. If our new friend doesn''t wish to talk about his past, then he shouldn''t have to. Don''t stick your nose where it isn''t welcome.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Kellar backs down from his interrogation.

 IV. The Band United (Section 2)

    Atticus continues his meal as the group engages in normal conversation amongst themselves. Much to his surprise, he''s joined a group with almost zero effort on his part, and right before things potentially become difficult. Meanwhile, the silent young mage Zyra, who is sitting next to him, can''t help but throw occasional glances at the stone-faced knight.

    Later, everyone has finished their meal and are returning outside to set up their tents, first by retrieving them from their horses. Coincidentally, Annaliese is placed next to Erik''s horse, a magnificent white steed with a straight, silky-looking mane. The archer notices the bow and quiver of arrows on Annaliese''s, and for the first time, strikes up a conversation with the knight of his own accord.

    ¡°You''re an archer as well, knight?¡± He asks in his calm, sophisticated tone.

    ¡°Only in part. Why?¡± Atticus responds.

    ¡°Are you good?¡±

    ¡°Reasonably so, I''d say.¡±

    Erik grins and his tone becomes less cold. ¡°Once we find an opportune moment, I would like to shoot with you. Would that be alright?¡±

    ¡°I don''t see why not.¡± Atticus responds, partly surprised at the sudden invitation.

    ¡°I quite enjoy archery in competition. It would be nice to see what a Rhodish knight is capable of.¡±

    ¡°Then I hope I don''t disappoint.¡±

    Seemingly ecstatic about the prospect of having someone to shoot with, Erik retrieves his tent and bedroll with a smile of anticipation on his face before removing his horse''s saddle for the night. Kellar, Veros, and Royd all do the same and then leave to pick out a spot near the barracks to set themselves up. The knight stays behind to cut and feed an apple to Annaliese, as a flavorful treat for a job well done for the day. He''s interrupted, however, by an unexpected person: Zyra. She looks up at him with clear, resolute blue eyes, and he isn''t sure how he should ask her if she requires something of him.

    ¡°Threcia.¡± She suddenly says in a feminine, but monotone voice. The single word surprises the knight, not just because of the fact she spoke, but because of the word itself too. ¡°You''re from Threcia, aren''t you?¡±

    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Atticus responds with clear surprise, implying she''s right.

    ¡°I''ve seen your armor in books at the university.¡± She explains while brushing her long, disheveled auburn bangs from her eyes. ¡°You''re not Threcian military, either ¨C but part of the royal guard. Correct?¡±

    ¡°I wasn''t aware that textbooks in your university taught you of the Threcian royal guard.¡± The knight remarks in a semi-annoyed tone. He didn''t wish to have his origin guessed so easily, but he quietly admits to himself that he''s guilty of wearing the black iron suit to begin with.

    ¡°Threcia is the birthplace of pyromancy. Of course they would teach us of the place.¡± Zyra states matter-of-factly. ¡°Pyromancy is deeply ingrained into Threcian culture, is it not?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± The knight concedes to her questions. He might as well; she''s correct anyway. Thus, he converses while feeding Annaliese her apple slices. ¡°Pyromancy is taught to anyone who wishes to learn it. There''s a university there that teaches other types of magic, but pyromancy is the most accessible ¨C even children can learn it. They''re proud of it.¡±

    ¡°Did you learn it?¡± She asks with a detectable amount of eagerness.

    ¡°Yes, I did. But once I joined the royal guard, I set it aside to work on my swordsmanship and archery skills.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Her enthusiastic demeanor turns into curiosity. ¡°But you do know how to perform pyromancy, yes?¡±

    ¡°It''s been quite a while, so I might be rusty, but yes.¡± Atticus feeds the last of the apple to Annaliese and throws the core away. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°Just curious.¡± Zyra answers as her gaze falls to the ground. ¡°One of the reasons I''m out here is to refine my pyromancy. I figure it would be helpful to receive some assistance in that from someone with prior experience.¡±

    ¡°I don''t think there''s anything I can teach you that your masters at the university have not.¡± The knight picks up his bedroll and tent. ¡°But if you think I can help you, then I''ll try.¡±

    A small, satisfied smile comes to the mage''s face and she gives a grateful nod before Atticus walks to the spot near the barracks the other men have picked out for camping. They were all looking on at the knight and pyromancer talking to each other, and Kellar approaches him in confusion.

    ¡°Oi, knight. What''d the girl say to you?¡±

    Atticus notices the four of them seem very intrigued for some reason. ¡°She asked me more questions about my armor.¡± He bluntly states. It''s not necessarily a lie, but does leave out some details.

    ¡°No kiddin''?¡± Kellar slowly reels back. ¡°I''m surprised the girl finally found her tongue for the first time since she asked to join us up here. Barely uttered a sound after that.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Their curiosity somewhat satisfied, the men return to organizing themselves; setting up their temporary homes for the night. Atticus is a bit surprised to hear that Zyra approached them for the journey. He had expected circumstances to be the other way around. He internally remarks how the girl has been full of surprises in the mere minutes he''s known her.

    ¡°I won''t give her any grief for it.¡± Royd says while laying out his bedroll. ¡°Having a mage with us is something that undoubtedly paints other Mistwalker parties green with envy.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Veros chimes in while sitting on the ground in front of his tent, already finished with his task. ¡°Having magic with us can possibly open doors on our mission that we couldn''t otherwise access. For all we know, it could be necessary for actually destroying the source of the mist.¡±

    ¡°Why exactly are there so few mages becoming Mistwalkers?¡± Atticus can''t help but ponder aloud.

    ¡°There''s a multitude of reasons.¡± Veros replies. ¡°Due to the barrier using so many of the university''s arcane crystals, there''s only a fraction of the number of mages being taught right now, so they might be forgoing venturing into the fog so they don''t risk losing mages more often than they can graduate. A lot of mages come from upper class families, so they have no reason to become Mistwalkers for the money, either. Some might simply refuse out of spite because of the barrier using the university''s crystals.¡±

    ¡°Well, that''s a bit selfish.¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°What else are we supposed to do, let the mist spread so their precious crystals stay in the university?¡±

    ¡°Some would make the argument that if they had all of their crystals at their disposal, they would have worked together to figure out a solution by now.¡± Veros retorts.

    ¡°There''s no guarantee of that.¡± Kellar waves off the idea. ¡°The grandmaster has already admitted that there''s no mention of anything like this mist in any of their records before. They don''t know how to deal with this.¡±

    Veros strokes his goatee and looks at the ground pensively. ¡°That strikes a bit of unease into me, if I''m being honest. Grandmaster Fyorin is possibly the most learned man in Yhordran, with the most extensive library of the continent''s written history available to him, yet even he doesn''t know what we''re dealing with.¡±

    ¡°Pretty damn discouraging.¡± Kellar solemnly utters. ¡°But then again, just because the mist is something new, doesn''t mean the source of it is.¡±

    ¡°How do you figure?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°The mist itself might be new and unknown to us, but what if it''s from some sort of magic origin that we do know about, used only in a different manner?¡±

    Veros ponders again. ¡°I guess that''s a possibility. But we can''t really go into Armasstadt solely on expectations based on our own conjecture. We just have to go there and improvise.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Kellar quickly concedes to the point.

    Zyra finally arrives and begins to set up her own modest tent, and Atticus begins to shed the pieces of his armor in preperation for sleep, unwittingly revealing the many scars on his torso to his new comrades, who are surprised at the sight.

    ¡°By Galliford''s beard, boy!¡± Royd exclaims. ¡°How many battles have you seen?¡±

    The knight realizes the situation he''s landed himself in, but unfortunately it''s something that couldn''t be ignored to begin with if he''s to travel with them. Thus, he reluctantly answers in a purposely vague, but still hopefully adequately informative manner.

    ¡°Most of these aren''t from real battles. Just unfortunate encounters with shady people.¡±

    ¡°Life must be hard in Rhodanion, then.¡± The massive blonde warrior remarks.

    ¡°In some places, yes.¡± The knight puts on a cotton shirt to hopefully keep the conversation to a minimum by concealing his body. He looks in Zyra''s direction in time to catch her swinging her head away from him and hastily returning to the construction of her tent.

    Later, the obscured sun is totally behind the western horizon, and the impenetrable dark, dark blues of night take over. The six-man band of Mistwalkers still engage in casual conversation, with Veros, Kellar, and Royd being the majority participants. They embrace the warmth of a modest bonfire constructed by Royd and lit by Zyra by a somewhat strained pointing of her fingers. The pyromancer and dark knight are silently sitting next to each other, but spend their time trying to stop themselves from throwing glances at one another like they were doing at dinner in the dining hall.

    Atticus quietly meditates on the progress he''s made in this first day of his misson, especially his sudden recruitment into the group of Mistwalkers sitting around him, who invited him at their own volition, something he wasn''t expecting them to do. An even bigger surprise was the mage''s guess of his origin, given away by the appearance of his armor. However, he feels that if he truly wanted to keep a low profile while in Yhordran, he wouldn''t have kept the black iron suit, but he didn''t want to abandon it. While ruminating on the day, Kellar brings up tomorrow''s plans.

    ¡°So, how are we going to cut through Levinburg tomorrow?¡± He asks, directing the question towards Veros.

    ¡°Levinburg has a few wide, spacious streets that we can use to our benefit.¡± Veros begins to elaborate. ¡°It''d be best to avoid narrow paths and alleys, considering our horses. We''ll just need to keep our eyes out for undead; we don''t want to be blindsided. Main Street goes directly from the south gate, which we''ll enter from, to the north gate, where we''ll exit. Shouldn''t be too difficult, nor take too long.¡±

    ¡°Assumin'' they left the street open during the initial havoc. The path to the north gate could be blocked off.¡± Kellar remarks.

    ¡°Possibly, but even so, there are multiple exits to the north that we can use.¡± Veros says with a measured amount of self-assurance. ¡°All in all, we should still make it to the next checkpoint by sunset.¡±

    ¡°Is it not possible to go around?¡± Asks the knight, who admitted to being unfamiliar with the land earlier.

    ¡°Not without going very, very far out of our way.¡± Veros replies. ¡°Levinburg sits on a small island that divides the Tumarda River, which is nearly two miles wide this far inland, and far too deep for our horses to travel across. The only way we would go around is by going all the way to Lake Hyperion ¨C which the river connect to ¨C fifteen miles west, and going around that. We would end up spending the entire day going perpendicular to our initial path and not be able to make it to the second checkpoint before it got dark.¡±

    Atticus agrees it would be extremely inconvenient, as it would not only waste the day, but it would also force them to either travel at night or camp out beyond the safe boundaries of a checkpoint. They''re already on the right path to go directly from Zenith Gate to Armasstadt, as it''s practically a straight line between the two. They have no real reason to take any detours or scenic routes unless it was the only viable option.

    With an important second day ahead of them, the group soon takes a much-needed rest while the night is still respectably young.

 V. Horde of Abandoned (Section 1)

    Just past dawn of the second day of their mission, the posse of Mistwalkers have eaten a hearty breakfast, re-equipped themselves, and are in the middle of re-saddling their horses to ride out of Checkpoint Eowerth and once again into the near-colorless realm of the mysterious mist.

    ¡°The forest will become quite dense as we get closer to Levinburg.¡± Veros announces for the team to hear. ¡°So don''t stray off the road, or you risk getting lost.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd acknowledges.

    ¡°Are you sure we can''t just go around Levinburg and Tumarda River?¡± Kellar takes the opportunity to voice his complaints one last time. ¡°Even if it takes all day, wouldn''t it still be safer?¡±

    ¡°I''m sure, Kellar.¡± Veros bluntly replies in an annoyed tone. ¡°And no, it wouldn''t. I''d wager that carefully cutting through Levinburg in about forty minutes is potentially safer than spending an extra eight hours in the wilderness.¡±

    ¡°If you say so.¡± The reluctant Kellar says underneath a sigh.

    ¡°Don''t worry, Kellar.¡± Royd chimes in, clearly with an insult ready to be deployed. ¡°Levinburg''s a pretty big place. I''m sure you can find extra pairs of trousers to wear after you piss yourself at the first sight of undead. Haha!¡±

    ¡°Oh, I''m not worried.¡± Kellar, now agitated, obviously prepares to fire back. ¡°A big imbecile like you would be most effective as a meat shield.¡±

    ¡°You''ll definitely need someone to shield you, considering your scrawny arms are too weak to carry your own!¡± The massive warrior belly laughs once more while Kellar comically contorts his face into a combination of frustration and disbelief that he''s exchanging discourtesies with Royd yet again.

    ¡°Alright, let''s not waste our energy spitting barbs at each other.¡± Veros says as he mounts his horse. ¡°Is everyone ready to depart?¡±

    ¡°As I''ll ever be, I suppose.¡± Kellar begrudgingly replies while he and everyone else climb upon their steeds almost in unison.

    ¡°Let''s go.¡± Veros announces, and the entire band quietly and calmly leaves Checkpoint Eowerth to proceed northward to Levinburg.

    They cross the magical threshold keeping the mist at bay around the fortified zone, and are immediately oppressed by the dismal atmosphere perpetrated by the fog, once again sapping the color away from the surrounding foliage and limiting visibility. Everyone''s demeanor slightly shifts once inside the mist; they''re quiet, serious, and alert. They soon walk not even half a mile from Eowerth, and it''s already totally obscurbed behind them by both the trees and a seemingly impenetrable wall of grey. Veros is the one who leads the pack forward, with Atticus, Zyra, and Kellar directly behind him, and Royd and Erik at the back.

    The knight silently wonders about the group''s de facto leader. He''s a very composed, smart, well-spoken man who seems to have experience in situations such as this. In fact, he bears the same aura as the knight''s superiors back home in Threcia. He''s tempted to ask questions, but doesn''t wish to pry. He offers the same courtesy Veros gave the previous night by keeping his nosiness to a minimum.

    As they press on, the density of Levinburg Forest creates an ominous ambiance due to the trees and plant life blocking out any sensation or whisper of a breeze, and the complete lack of any animal or insect life causing an eerie, uncomfortable silence that is quite unsual for an area once brimming with life. The constant crushing of dirt under the hooves of their horses is the only sound any of them can hear that isn''t their own breaths. The thick canopy does no favors for the already-hindered sunlight, forcing it to push through the treetops as well as the mist itself.

    ¡°This forest is givin'' me the creeps.¡± Kellar can''t help but voice his discomfort. ¡°It''s too quiet and the fog and trees are hiding Gods-know-what.¡± He practically curls up into a ball while on his horse.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°I don''t disagree,¡± Veros replies, ¡°but don''t let it break your morale. Our sight might be limited out here, but as long as we stay on the road, we''ll reach Levinburg with no issue.¡±

    ¡°Can''t we hurry it up a bit?¡± The impatient Kellar pleas. ¡°The less time we spend in this... purgatory, the better.¡±

    ¡°Trying to run forward while our visibility is so short would be a bad idea. You said it yourself: the mist and trees could be hiding Gods-know-what, so it wouldn''t be very smart to accidentally run into them.¡±

    Kellar urges further, ¡°Frankly, I don''t think it was very smart to come here at all, so I doubt our record of good judgement would be blemished much further by pickin'' up the pace a little bit.¡±

    With a small sigh, Veros attempts to reassure his uneasy comrade. ¡°We''ll be fine, Kellar. We should easily make it to the next checkpoint before it becomes dark.¡± The fretful bald man begrudgingly halts his complaints and the group travels on.

    Some miles later, the band comes across a lone undead on the road, standing listlessly in torn up cotton clothes, and staring catatonically off into the deep forest.

    ¡°Hold.¡± Veros brings his hand up to signal the other Mistwalkers to stop about fifty feet from it. The nameless undead becomes aware of them, slowly turning with its awkward gait.

    ¡°So, who wants to take this one?¡± Royd chimes in with some enthusiasm. ¡°If no one wants to volunteer, I''ll take it.¡±

    ¡°Zyra.¡± The team leader interjects, turning to the mage behind him. ¡°If you don''t mind, I''d like you to demonstrate your magic capabilities. We could need them once we enter Levinburg, assuming we encounter hostiles.¡±

    Zyra''s usually stoic face shows a hint of surprise. She didn''t expect to be put on the spot so suddenly, and it causes her to hesitate for a moment.

    ¡°Go ahead, girl.¡± Royd politely urges her on. ¡°I can get my fill of action later.¡± Consideration of the brawny man''s desire to fight is not the reason she stalls, but she appreciates the encouragement, regardless.

    The pyromancer''s horse slowly walks forward, past Veros by only a few steps. The rickety walking corpse inches forward with no urgency as its expressionless, greenish-grey, necrotic face utters out low growls and grunts. Zyra raises her right hand towards it, palm forward and fingers spread and extended, and begins to take deep breaths. She stares at the unknown cadaver for a moment, trying to maintain composure, but her eyes grow tense.

    ¡°It''s alright, girl. It can''t attack you from this far.¡± Royd continues his earnest moral aid. Veros, however, narrows his eyes and raises a brow in curiosity, and Atticus is perplexed as to why a simple ranged spell is taking so long to come out. As a native to Threcia, he knows that as a two-stone pyromancer, Zyra should be conjuring a ball of fire to shoot forward in a near instant, but she''s taking her sweet time.

    Without any hint of a warning, the lone undead quickly becomes more aggressive, picking up its pace and closing the distance between itself and the mage with increasing speed. Noticing this from the back of the group, Erik quietly grabs an arrow from his quiver and prepares to draw his bow. Veros''s eyes dart back and forth between Zyra and her approaching target and he starts to become a touch anxious. Fortunately, a flash of light finally emerges from the mage''s hand, and a single ball of fire the size of an average person''s fist propels itself from her palm at breakneck speed, sounding like a tiny comet slicing through the air. The strikes the corpse''s head with such velocity, that it simply explodes into a hundred gory pieces, like shrapnel of skull shards and brain matter.

    Veros heaves a sigh a of relief. ¡°You had me worried for a moment. I thought I had brought along a mage with cold feet. You have good aim.¡±

    ¡°Aye, a fine shot.¡± Royd offers his commendations as well, with Kellar quietly nodding in agreement.

    Erik places the arrow back in its quiver, and the knight moves his horse forward enough to glance at Zyra''s face. A few beads of sweat slide down her cheeks, and her breathing is a bit heavy. It shouldn''t take that much concentration and energy to cast one mere fireball. Atticus keeps these thoughts to himself for the time being, but wonders about the legitimacy of her rank. Does this have something to do with her persistent questions about pyromancy last night? Maybe she was simply scared? Though he doesn''t wish to pry, he''s tempted to ask her about it in private when he can.

    Veros approaches the now-headless body and dismounts his horse. ¡°We should look for a sortie card. He might''ve been a Mistwalker.¡± He kneels and begins to pat down the body, soon finding a folded card in a trouser pocket. ¡°''Gerald Oliver''. He began his first venture into the mist three weeks ago. He didn''t get a stamp from Eowerth, though. Strange.¡±

    ¡°So he died before reaching Eowerth, but spent three weeks wandering past it?¡± Kellar gives his hypothesis.

    ¡°Seems so.¡± Veros responds as he re-folds the card and mounts his horse again. ¡°Let''s continue forward.¡±

    Thinking nothing of the poor stiff once known as Gerald Oliver, the party resumes their journey, with the mage wearing an expression of mental exhaustion and guilt on her face, one that Atticus has caught view of. He can''t help but assume that it''s related to her closed-off behavior in the short amount of time he''s been traveling with her.

 V. Horde of Abandoned (Section 2)

    After approximately three more hours of following the road northward, the forest opens up into a small downhill clearing leading to a river bank, where a stone bridge lies directly in front of them, creating a road over the bank and rapid waters. Due to the length of the bridge, the opposite end is completely veiled by the fog.

    ¡°We''re here.¡± Veros announces. ¡°Levinburg. This bridge should take us directly to the south gate. Let''s go.¡±

    As everyone cautiously crosses the long bridge, Erik looks down to the active water below. ¡°I wonder how long it''ll take before the water erodes at the foundation beneath the town and causes it to collapse into the river.¡± The usually quiet archer ponders aloud.

    ¡°Levinburg''s stood for a few hundred years, so I''m sure it''ll stand for at least a few hundred more.¡± Veros replies. ¡°The town was built on this island to begin with in order to avoid construction of a man-made moat. With only one bridge to the north, one to the south, and the rapids below creating a hard time for rafts, it is a very difficult place to lay seige upon.¡±

    ¡°The mist succeeded pretty damn well, I''d say.¡± Kellar interjects with a touch of snark.

    As they make their way across the bridge, the mist begins to slowly clear and reveal a large open gate before them, in the middle of a tall stone fort wall stretching beyond visibliity both east and west.

    ¡°Gate''s still open.¡± Veros declares.

    ¡°Likely been this way since everyone hightailed it out of here months ago.¡± Royd ascertains.

    ¡°Indeed.¡±

    Veros slowly urges forward, through the open threshold, peering into the empty, ominous walkways of Levinburg. Beyond the watch towers at the gate lie modest stone and wood buildings lining the street at either side, with multiple intersections in the distance. The density of the buildings combined with the distant roar of the river below and sight-obscuring effects of the mist create a deeply unwelcoming and dreadful ambiance. Despite Levinburg being populated with well over then thousand inhabitants months ago, the atmosphere on its own makes it seem as if no one has set foot on these cobbled roads in centuries. It bears only the image of a haunted ghost town now.

    ¡°So how are we going to do this?¡± Kellar asks with clear hesitance.

    The pensive group leader considers his options with an idle rub of his goatee for a moment before turning to his two most combat-ready men, ¡°Atticus, Royd. Will you both dismount and take point? Inspect the buildings ahead to confirm a clear path. We don''t want to be ambushed in close quarters while we''re still on our horses.¡±

    ¡°We''re not gonna just run straight through?¡± Kellar asks.

    ¡°We need to see the condition of the north gate first, and if any undead stand in the way.¡± Veros begins his explanation. ¡°If we sprint ahead, it might attract unwanted attention or lead ourselves straight into a bad situation. Remember our limited visibility out here.¡±

    ¡°We can''t just go around the whole town? Follow the outer side of the wall?¡±

    ¡°There''s no path along the eastern or western sides of the wall. Just cliffs.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± The bald rogue says as he heaves a small sigh before turning to the two point men. ¡°I''m not gonna tell you two to hurry, but... hurry, will ya?¡±

    ¡°Don''t bunch up your skirt and run off now, Kellar.¡± Royd throws a verbal stab as he and Atticus dismount their horses.

    The two sturdy warriors walk past the rest of the group, with the massive Royd wielding his daunting battle axe, and the steadfast knight holding his black iron shield and straightsword.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°You take the right side of the road, and I''ll take the left.¡± Says the bulky blonde man. Atticus nods, and both steel themselves to comb through the buildings lining the street, one by one.

    The first small home on the knight''s side has an open front door, making it easy for him to peer inside. With his shield at his chest and sword ready to be swung, he crosses the doorway, and scans the interior. Much like the homes in Newmanstead, only broken and upturned wooden furniture and empty storage containers remained.

    ¡°This one''s clear.¡± The knight confirms.

    ¡°Aye. This one too.¡± Royd returns the announcement with his own, stepping back from another humble house that''s totally empty.

    Slowly, they both proceed to the next pair of buildings. Atticus has yet another small one he can inspect from the safety of the doorway, but Royd is tasked with a slightly larger one with a separate room. The large, fearless man walks in, his feet brushing against the dust, dirt, and various torn up, broken remnants of the items and belongings that used to be kept here. He walks into the bedroom, and spies nothing of interest. He calmly walks back out onto the street.

    ¡°Empty?¡± Asks the knight.

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd replies with a nod. ¡°Let''s keep going.¡±

    For the third pair of homes, Royd has a building similar to the previous one, but with an attached animal pen. Of course, nothing resides in it now but old, leftover, rotten feed. Atticus, however, receives a house much larger than the previous two, which also seems to have a second floor, possibly an attic. The knight walks in, stepping over the dusty remains of wooden chairs and stools and shattered clay plates at the base of the fire pit. Opposite the front entrance were the strairs that led to the second floor, and adjacent to it was a doorway to a large bedroom. Before heading up the steps, Atticus peeks into the nearby room to find an intact bed that still had its mattress and sheets atop its wooden frame, but the chests at their feet were open and emptied out. He surmises that unlike Newmanstead, Levinburg doesn''t seem to be under as much constant abuse by passing looters. Instead, there seems to be evidence of families simply grabbing what they can and leaving. Either that, or looters simply become more picky as they journey further into the mist.

    Content with what he''s seen on the ground floor, the knight turns to the wooden steps leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. It''d be incredibly easy for him to be caught off guard from his position, so he practices extra caution, keeping his shield up to his face, and plainly letting the top of his helmeted head push the hatch open enough for his eyes to peek inside. Directly in front of him was a collection of crates and sacks filled with who-knows-what, but nothing of immediate interest. He slowly rotates his body and head counterclockwise, the top side of his helmet gently scraping the surface of wooden hatch, soon spotting a fleshy, rotted heap of meat vaguely shaped like a human. It was a corpse lying unstirred near the corner of the attic, its back facing the hatch and Atticus.

    He further ascends the steps, quietly letting his shoulder push the hatch open further and further until it stands completely perpendicular to the attic floor. Gravity takes over, pulling the hatch door downward, causing it to slam against the floor. The noise causes the still undead to twitch with curiosity for only one short instant before the knight''s sword is thrusted forward with great force and driven into the back of its neck. Before Atticus can pull his sword from the pierced flesh of the unknown cadaver, he hears a creak come from the unstable floor boards behind him. Swinging his head around, he becomes face to face with a second undead he didn''t notice, lunging at him with a grotesque, feral desire to rip him apart, its rotted teeth gnashing horrifically and voice uttering only disgusting, unintelligible snarls.

    Thankfully, his reflexes were quick enough to let go of his embedded weapon, and push away the arm the creature was attempting to seize him with, causing it stumble pathetically to the side and leave its head draped over the lip of the open hatch threshold. Having no bladed weapon does not prevent the knight from retaliating, however, as he brings his shield up, places his now-free weapon hand on the top edge of it, and uses the strength of his two arms to force the bottom edge of his shield down and through the back of the frantic corpse''s neck like a guillotine, effectively severing the head and letting it tumble down the staircase that led into the attic.

    ¡°Good Gods!¡± Royd''s shocked voice is heard exclaiming from below. Atticus looks down to see the burly warrior staring back up at him with a puzzled expression. ¡°Are you alright up there?¡±

    ¡°I''m fine.¡± The knight affirms his condition while catching his breath which was slightly lost in the sudden, urgent scuffle that lasted a mere few seconds. ¡°Is the other house clear?¡±

    ¡°Aye, it is.¡± Royd replies with a nod before looking back down at the disembodied head. ¡°Looks like the owner of the house doesn''t enjoy guests very much.¡±

    Atticus turns back around to retrieve his sword with one drastic pull that nearly takes the undead''s head with it, and both men return to the street, where they reach the first intersection of their patrol. Seeing no other walking stiffs in either direction of the intersecting path, Royd waves his hand to the four other members of the group who are still waiting with bated breath at some houses back.

 V. Horde of Abandoned (Section 3)

    ¡°Let''s move forward.¡± Veros declares. ¡°Erik, Zyra, you two keep an eye on what''s behind us.¡±

    Veros and Kellar slowly continue ahead while guiding Atticus and Royd''s horses by the reins. Erik maintains an unfaltering sense of awareness as his eyes keenly scan the environment in front and behind him. Zyra, however, displays the same symptoms of subtle anxiousness that bled onto the surface of her face when she took out the lone undead on the road earlier that morning. Given her performance demonstrated in that instance, she doesn''t feel capable or confident when being placed in a position where she''s being depended on for the safety of the others. However, she has little choice but to try and adapt in these circumstances. With this in mind, she tries to feign calmness, but doesn''t seem nearly as alert next to Erik. As they make their way deeper into the town, the sounds of the raging river beneath the bridge begins to subside with distance, and the eerie silence that oppressed them during their journey through the forest returns once again.

    As the mounted members of the group make their way to the first intersection, Royd and Atticus continue their careful patrol northward. House by house, shack by shack, the two courageous Mistwalkers readily clear a path for their comrades to follow. Only a select few homes contained hostile stragglers, quickly eliminated by the warriors with ease. As expected, the buildings also showed mixed signs of both hasty retreat from its original denizens, as well as potential plundering by passing Mistwalkers. It''s difficult to differentiate the two, but most rooms aren''t nearly as barren as they were in Newmanstead, which was much closer to the safety of the barrier.

    The slow and steady progress eventually leads the group to the northern gate they were seeking. As they approach it, the mist clears, and it fully comes into sight, and they''re greeted with something they didn''t expect: the massive double-doored gate is barricaded with inumerable large wooden planks holding the two sides together. Worse still, was a tall wall of haphazardly placed furniture further preventing the gate from being forced open.

    ¡°You''ve gotta be fuckin'' kiddin'' me.¡± Kellar can''t help but voice his displeasure. ¡°I knew this would happen. Why did they think this was a good idea? What did they think this would block out?¡±

    ¡°Panic is rarely accompanied by logic.¡± Veros replies with a small sigh. Even he''s a bit annoyed at the discovery. ¡°I had assumed Levinburg was too far south to require such drastic measures to keep the town locked down, but it appears I was wrong.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps a massive pack of undead was storming their gates?¡± Royd offers his hypothesis.

    Having no definitive answers, Veros only musters a shrug. ¡°It''s possible, but obviously it''s unlikely we''ll ever know.¡±

    ¡°So now what the hell do we do?¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°Do we actually try and move all this trash? We''ll be here for an extra hour or two.¡±

    ¡°No, there''s the other exits I mentioned before. We''ll have to double back a bit.¡± Veros turns his horse and looks down the street from where the group came. ¡°There''s another gate to the east. If we take a left a few intersections back, we''ll reach the chapel courtyard, which has a street that leads directly to it.¡±

    ¡°You sure it won''t be blocked off too?¡±

    ¡°It''s smaller and more out of the way than this one, and doesn''t have its own access bridge, so it''s rather inconspicuous. Can''t imagine they''d feel the need to seal it off as harshly.¡±

    Kellar lets out a sigh, not feeling terribly convinced. ¡°Guess we''ll have to find out the hard way and head over there.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Let''s head back.¡± Veros leads the group back down the street in the direction they came from. Due to the inconvenience of the blocked-off gate, tinges of doubt begin to fester in their heads. The street they''re on was supposed to lead them from the south gate to the north one, easily allowing them to cut through the town. However, now they''re being forced into taking a detour through the center of it, opening new doors for potential danger.

    ¡°Down here.¡± Veros turns left on the third intersection from the closed-off northern gate, entering another wide street. ¡°Royd, Atticus, you''re up again. We''ll follow at a distance.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd responds automatically.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The two capable men take point and begin another cautious trek through this new street that wasn''t part of the original plan. One by one, they enter buildings of varying shapes, sizes, and room count. This time, some of them were more than just normal family homes. There were shops, tailories, and smithies, all clearly abandoned and with many merchandise and equipment left behind to deteriorate, rust, and collect dust. Royd and Atticus make steady progress clearing out each building that lined either side of the street as quickly as they can without being careless. As before, only a handful of strays were discovered, wasting away with no sense of purpose, and then immediately eliminated by the fearless warriors.

    As the two acting patrolmen make their way down the street, they eventually disappear from the sight of the others, having been veiled by a layer of mist. Veros and Kellar still stay back with slowly decaying patience, while Erik and Zyra are too busy being aware of their surroundings.

    ¡°So let''s say we get to that second gate,¡± Kellar begins speaking, ¡°and it''s inaccessible like the other one. What then?¡±

    ¡°Then I guess we''ll have to waste the day moving the trash at the north gate, after all.¡±

    ¡°Hells...¡± Kellar curses under his breath. He''s too aggravated to even raise his voice. ¡°Second day out here and I''m already exhausted, and I didn''t even do anythin'' except sit on this horse for four straight hours.¡±

    ¡°If traversing through the mist were any easier, the source of it would have been reached by now.¡± Veros responds with a harsh truth.

    Meanwhile, the knight finally approaches the end of the street, noticing that his burly comrade had gotten there before him and seems to be staring forward hypnotically.

    ¡°Did you find something?¡± Atticus asks as he walks up to Royd, who doesn''t reply immediately. Instead he lifts his hand and points ahead with a dumbstruck look on his face.

    Curious, the knight turns towards an open area finally clear of buildings. Opposite them, the thin veil of fog begins to shift and waft away momentarily. Atticus squints his eyes and takes a few more steps forward, and across the large cobblestone courtyard, is not only the chapel that Veros mentioned, but another shocking sight that none of them had predicted: bodies ¨C many of them. Dozens are scattered among the area and steps leading up to the large, firmly shut wooden doors of the holy place, which is barricaded by a repulsive dune of another fifty to seventy or so greenish, decomposing corpses. All of them look as if they were recklessly thrown into a pile by an unknown force, strewn about over each other in awkward postures like boneless ragdolls treated poorly by a rambunctious child. None of them are moving. There isn''t a single twitch or stir among the small army. They''re perfectly still ¨C eerily so.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± The knight can only utter complete bewilderment and shock at the sight.

    ¡°What do we do about this?¡± Royd asks aloud to no on in particular. Both men are petrified at the idea of having to tiptoe around this unpredictable horde that may or may not stir and awaken to wreak havoc, but they have little choice.

    ¡°You go and tell Veros what we''ve found. I''ll stay here and keep an eye on them.¡± Atticus works up the frame of mind to take action.

    ¡°You sure that''s a good idea? Staying here?¡± Royd replies with understandable reluctance.

    ¡°Well, one of us needs to stay here and make sure they aren''t awoken while we''re not looking.¡±

    ¡°Alright then.¡± With no other real options to deal with the situation, Royd concedes. ¡°I''ll be as quick as I can. But if any of ''em start moving, even an inch, run your ass off back to the group.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡± The knight gives a confident nod before his partner runs back down the street they came from and disappears into the fog.

    Still a ways back, Veros has decided he''s waited long enough.

    ¡°I think we should quicken the pace now.¡± He says.

    ¡°But they''re not back yet.¡± Kellar responds, obviously more willing to play it safe and stay put for the time being.

    ¡°It''s a long street.¡± Veros continues. ¡°They''re probably still clearing buildings out, and if they were any sort of trouble beyond their control, I''m sure they would have retreated by now. Let''s go.¡±

    The self-assured leader urges his horse forward, with Kellar apprehensively trailing behind, and Erik and Zyra at the rear. However, it''s only mere seconds before a human-shaped silhouette is visible from the distance. It approaches them with speed and eventually reveals itself to be their burly posse member Royd.

    ¡°Royd? What''s wrong?¡± Veros asks, noticing the expression of urgency upon his comrade''s face.

    ¡°We''ve got a bit of problem in the chapel courtyard.¡± He responds while trying to catch his breath.

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Undead. Lots of them. They''re lying about the entire area, not moving.¡±

    ¡°How many exactly?¡±

    ¡°Too many to take the time to count. I''d say damn near a hundred.¡±

    The news immediately catches the attention of Zyra, who notices that Atticus isn''t present.

    ¡°Where''s Atticus?¡± She speaks up with surprising volume, catching the other men off guard.

    ¡°He''s at the end of the street, keeping an eye on the horde. We don''t know when or if they''ll start getting up and moving.¡± Royd attempts to explain as succinctly as he can.

    ¡°Is the street to the south not blocked off by them?¡± Veros asks.

    The bulky warrior shakes his head. ¡°No. They''re mostly near the chapel doors.¡±

    Veros considers his options for a deeply pensive, but short moment. ¡°Let''s go take a look. Maybe we can sneak around them.¡±

 V. Horde of Abandoned (Section 4)

    ¡°Oi, are you serious?¡± Kellar instantly interrupts. ¡°Did you not just hear what he said? There''s a hundred of them!¡±

    ¡°And they''re not moving.¡± Veros argues back. ¡°As long as the hug the buildings to the left, we might be able to get by without drawing their attention. We need to go and find out.¡±

    ¡°Are you that desperate to get killed?¡±

    ¡°The only other choice is to spend the entire day hauling junk out of the way of the main gate, or worse, going around the river and Lake Hyperion. We''re not going to take a six hour detour and risk traveling in pitch black darkness in a dense forest just to get on the other side of that wall.¡± Veros points to the very tall stone fort wall that traces the entire Levinburg perimeter. ¡°Let''s go.¡± Veros repeats his order with more firmness than before.

    Kellar quietly gives up, knowing that a debate is pointless. At the end of the day, both options are fundamentally dangerous, but this one is just faster. Royd mounts his horse and the group rides to the end of the street, soon meeting up with Atticus and seeing the small army of comatose undead for themselves.

    ¡°What the...¡± Veros is quickly overwhelmed at the unnerving view of so many nameless corpses messily disordered around the courtyard and stacked like dishevelled logs against the chapel door. Kellar is shocked beyond words; his jaw is hanging in sheer confusion and fear. Zyra is struck with obvious worry and anxiousness. Even the sober and quiet Erik is visibly trying to wrap his head around the sight.

    ¡°What on Earth were they doing?¡± Veros can''t help but wonder aloud.

    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡± Atticus responds, having seen no activity in the few minutes he''s been surveilling. ¡°What are we going to do?¡±

    Veros turns to the left, away from the numerous cadavers, and sees the street leading to the other gate he mentioned, free of any potential hazards. He points to it so the others can see it.

    ¡°We''re going to that street over there.¡±

    ¡°So we''re sneaking past them?¡± The knight asks for clarification.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Veros nods. ¡°Granted, it''s hard to necessarily sneak with six horses, but as long as we hug these buildings to the left, we should avoid waking them.¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± Kellar interrupts with his usual, but understandable hesitance. ¡°We don''t even know if the gate you''re talkin'' about is blocked off or not like the other one. What if we wake them and they just chase us down there, trappin'' us?¡±

    ¡°That''s a risk that comes with the journey, Kellar.¡± Veros offers a response that, while true, doesn''t necessarily instill confidence. ¡°Alright. Everyone get on your horses. We''re going to head over to that street in a single file line while staying against the buildings to our left. I''ll lead.¡±

    Atticus mounts his horse as Kellar unleashes another exasperated sigh. Veros takes a deep breath before slowly urging his horse forward while sticking so closely to the buildings to his left, he practically brushes his shoulders against them. Once he and his horse fully enter the courtyard area, Royd and his horse follow, then Atticus, then Kellar, then Zyra, then Erik.

    As they trace the edge of the courtyard, they keep their eyes on the suspicious, but unmoving horde, with each of their faces marked with hints of varying degrees of desperation, nervousness, and morbid inner turmoil questioning whether or not they''ll live another day. The sounds of their horses'' feet stepping on the cobblestone path is the only noise filling the air, for the tensity is forcing them to practically hold their breaths. For all they know, one wrong vibration in the air itself could strike up their wrath. Who knows what will happen if they wake? What if they are indeed chased to the gate they''re looking for, only to find it inaccessible? Can they really hold out against that many at once? Will they be trapped and forced to accept a gruesome demise? Would it be possible to narrowly escape harm, only to be forced into a day-long route around the river where danger is still high anyway? These questions and more buzz around their heads as they try to reach their destination.

    After rounding the northwest corner of the area, they''re finally able to make a straight line for the street that will lead them to potential ¨C not promised ¨C progress. Veros is the first to make it to the beginning of the path, and continues down it while looking back at the others, who are close by. One by one, they finally begin to put more distance between themselves and the massive group of necrotic husks. However, while they might be physically out of reach, they still have eyes looking upon them, as several of the corpses are lying with their heads turned towards the Mistwalkers.

    The group manages to successfully access the designated street and leave the horde behind, allowing the fog to provide them with a much-needed cloak of safety once they''re far enough away.

    ¡°Holy hell.¡± Kellar speaks under a forceful breath, probably his first exhale since they began sneaking around the bodies. ¡°I didn''t expect having to do something like that on just the second day out here.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°You and me both.¡± Veros admits with a sigh of his own.

    ¡°It was a bit exciting though, wasn''t it?¡± Royd remarks with surprising enthusiasm.

    ¡°For me, ''excitin'' would be finally gettin'' the fuck out of this town and puttin'' as many miles as possible between myself and them.¡± Kellar answers. ¡°I signed up for this knowin'' I''d have to fight eventually. But against a small army? No thanks.¡±

    ¡°I''m not keen to stick around, either.¡± Veros agrees. ¡°I don''t know what they were all doing there, but I''m not about to investigate.¡±

    ¡°Finally, you''re speakin'' my language.¡±

    The group finally manages to release all the tension they built up in such a short time earlier, making their way to the second gate with less urgency. However, just as they become complacent with their perceived safety, Erik becomes distracted by something. He tries to examine his surroundings in an attempt to seek out whatever it is that''s bothering him, but doesn''t find anything.

    ¡°Does anyone else hear that?¡± Erik speaks up, a rarity that catches everyone''s attention. Rather than respond to him directly, his comrades all automatically begin to search for the cause of Erik''s distress, attempting to single out strange sounds. However, he finally looks behind him, only to be greeted with an amorphous silhouette barreling down the street after them. Soon it becomes close enough for the fog to no longer cover its finer details, and it transforms into a horde of undead sprinting towards them with shocking speed.

    ¡°Run!¡± Erik''s instinctive response is a yell, which forces everyone to look back for one instant and see the vicious army behind them.

    ¡°Holy shit!¡± Kellar screams at the top of his lungs as he and everyone else in a sudden burst of desperate self-preservation kick and whip the reins of their horses to run as fast as their legs can carry them.

    ¡°How in the hell did this happen?!¡± Veros yells at nothing in sheer confusion and panic.

    ¡°Who cares?! Just keep moving!¡± Kellar replies with equal terrified bewilderment.

    Thankfully, as the horses dash relentlessly forward, more space is put between the Mistwalkers and the hostile horde. Soon, however, the northern fort wall becomes barely visible through the fog, and their destined gate along with it.

    ¡°There! The gate!¡± Veros points forward. ¡°It''s not blocked off! We have to open it!¡±

    ¡°Shouldn''t we lose these corpses first?!¡± Atticus asks.

    ¡°If we lead them around town just to get them off our back, it might make it harder to return here!¡±

    The group comes to a stop at the tall, barricaded single-door gate, and Veros is quick to bark out more orders as he dismounts.

    ¡°Royd, help me open the gate! Erik, Atticus, and Zyra, take out the undead at range if you see them coming!¡±

    ¡°Got it!¡± Atticus responds with confidence as he and Erik grab their bows and sturdily place themselves at the rear of the group. Zyra stands between them, looking far less composed.

    Meanwhile, Royd and Veros dismount their horse to push away the thick wooden planks propped up diagonally against the gate, then lifting the large wooden barricade holding the door firmly to the wall. The mass of aggressive stiffs soon make themselves visible through the fog again, sparking retaliation from the two bowmen, who loose their arrows with great speed and accuracy, deftly piercing the skulls of the corpses one by one from a closing distance. After Veros and Royd clear the gate of its few blockades, they try to pull it open, but make little progress. Veros looks to the door''s side.

    ¡°Damn it!¡± Veros exclaims in frustration. ¡°The hinges are rusted!¡±

    ¡°Kellar!¡± Royd yells. ¡°Help us, you rogue fool!¡±

    ¡°For fuck''s sake!¡± Kellar, with little choice, immediately hops off his horse and runs to assist.

    ¡°Pull!¡± Veros yells as the men strain their backs and arms trying to overcome the resistance of the large, rusted metal hinges keeping the gate shut. Eventually, it starts to inch open.

    Atticus and Erik are still spending many arrows trying to stop the progress of the rushing army, but they can''t kill as fast as the undead are running, thus they gain more ground little by little. Zyra has her right hand up, palm pointing forward, all fingers extended, but no pyromancy is being conjured. She unwillingly stalls due to heavy anxiousness and fear burdening her. Beads of sweat slide down her face at such a rate, it''s as if a rain cloud had formed directly above her head. Noticing her lack of action, Atticus speaks up while continuing to loose his arrows at random targets.

    ¡°Zyra! Breathe deep! Clear your mind! Channel your energy through your bracelet and use it to form the fireball!¡±

    The mage doesn''t look at him, but hears his advice. She begins to slow the pace of her breaths, inhaling and exhaling deeply. She quietly whispers an incantation to herself repeatedly. Finally, an orange light emerges from the palm of her hand and a massive fiery orb ¨C much larger than the one she launched earlier in the day ¨C shoots forward at blinding speed. It doesn''t hit any of the corpses sprint at them, but it didn''t need to. It strikes the ground with earth-shaking force and creates an explosion that decimates over a dozen of them at once, severely staggering their progress. Atticus and Erik are pleasantly surprised by the abrupt burst of magical strength, but neither of them are as shocked as Zyra, who nearly collapses from mental exhaustion.

    Meanwhile, Veros, Royd, and Kellar finally manage to open the gate wide enough for everyone and their horses to pass through.

    ¡°The gate''s open! Everyone go through!¡± Veros yells loudly enough for the three ranged fighters to hear him. ¡°Kellar, take Royd''s horse and mine through. We''ll close the gate again.¡±

    ¡°Right!¡± Kellar quickly climbs atop his horse, grabs the reins of his comrade''s steeds, and guide them through the open gate, with Atticus, Erik, and Zyra following close behind. With everyone now on the outer side of the Levinburg wall, Veros and Royd pull the gate closed just before the remainder of the feral horde reaches them. The undead pound at the gate non-stop, and their disgusting snarls and animalistic growls can still be heard.

    ¡°Do they not have the wherewithal to know that the gate must be pulled open?¡± Erik wonders aloud.

    ¡°I don''t think so.¡± Veros replies as he and Royd mount their horses once again. ¡°But I don''t think we should stick around to find out if they''ll learn. Let''s head to the bridge.¡±

    With no desire to see for themselves if the gate will stay closed, they ride along the narrow cliffside path westward to the bridge connecting Levinburg''s island to the mainland.

 VI. Fire of Inspiration (Section 1)

    Once the group puts a safe amount of distance between themselves and Levinburg, they slow their speeding horses and finally gather their thoughts for the first time since their narrow, nearly unsuccessful escape.

    ¡°I didn''t expect something like that to happen this far south.¡± Veros speaks his thoughts.

    ¡°What the hell were they all doin'', crowded in front of the chapel like that?¡± Kellar asks what everyone else is wondering. ¡°You think there''s any reason?¡±

    Veros shakes his head, ¡°We haven''t seen anything to suggest that there''s any rhyme or reason to anything they do. But it is curious.¡±

    ¡°Is it the only chapel in the area?¡± Atticus asks, attemptong to find and connect any dots.

    ¡°It is.¡± Veros answers. ¡°Levinburg''s the largest town in about a forty mile radius, and the only place with a chapel.¡±

    ¡°Do they worship any specific god there?¡±

    ¡°Not just one, but multiple.¡±

    ¡°Maybe something in the mist compels them to be there?¡± Royd chimes in with his own theory.

    ¡°I won''t rule out the possibility.¡± Veros responds, not completely convinced either way. ¡°But figuring out why they''re there isn''t as important as simply surviving them.¡± Veros looks around to examine the condition of his comrades. ¡°So, is everyone good?¡±

    ¡°Aye. Better than ever.¡± Royd responds with a nod.

    ¡°Heart''s still goin'' about ten miles a minute, but I''ll be fine.¡± Kellar replies, still appearing exhausted.

    ¡°I''m alright.¡± The knight announces.

    ¡°I hope the next checkpoint sells arrows to passing Mistwalkers.¡± Erik confirms his condition with a veiled complaint of needing to use so many arrows in so little time.

    ¡°...I''m fine.¡± Zyra responds in a near whisper-quiet voice, her face still drenched in sweat.

    ¡°Good.¡± Veros continues. ¡°We''re just past halfway to the second checkpoint. The worst of the day''s journey is behind us, but we still have several hours of travel ahead.¡±

    ¡°As long as we aren''t cuttin'' through another town, I''m fine for another five hours of sittin'' on my ass.¡± Kellar resumes his griping. ¡°It''s safer on this empty road than it is being chased by an army of corpses in a crowded town.¡±

    Royd begins rummaging through the food bag hanging from his horse''s side. ¡°That little chase worked up quite an appetite, though.¡± He pulls out a massive peach and takes a huge, enthusiastic bite out of it, causing its juices to spray out in multiple directions. The muscular warrior continues to speak while his mouth his full. ¡°I think now is probably a good time to eat. If all the undead in the area really tried to gather at the chapel, we should be free to enjoy a meal without any interruption.¡±

    ¡°But the northern gate was closed-off.¡± Kellar replies. ¡°Wouldn''t there be more undead on this side of the forest?¡±

    ¡°They might''ve fallen into the river trying to enter the town.¡± Royd listlessly hypothesizes as he throws away the core of the huge peach he''s already devoured in record time. He reaches into his food bag for a second.

    ¡°''Might''ve''? Are you daft?¡±

    ¡°Royd has a point.¡± Veros interjects. ¡°It''s highly unlikely we''ll run into a worse situation, so now''s as good a time as any to fill your stomach.¡± The team leader reaches into his own food sack and pulls out a healthy red apple.

    ¡°I''ll pass.¡± Kellar looks away with a sour expression. ¡°That whole ordeal turned my stomach. I feel like I''m closer to bringin'' up my last meal than I am to downin'' another one.¡±

    Erik quietly decides to dig into whatever he can grab from his own sack, but Atticus looks over to his quiet mage partner, who seems to be sulking. Her gaze is fixated downward, toward the dirt slowly passing underneath her. Her nervous sweats seemed to have stopped, but now an expression of mixed worry and deep disappointment has washed over her face, frozen in a state of pensiveness and brooding. He wants to offer words of encouragement, but ultimately decides against it, not wanting to put a light on her insecurities in front of the others and risk embarrassing her further.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    The group spends a few more hours trudging through the dense, misted forest, cautious of any surprises that may be lurking behind the tree line at either side of the empty road they journey on. Veros, Kellar, and Erik each maintain an increased state of alertness, no doubt unwilling to find themselves in another dire, unexpected scenario; closely examining almost every stone their steeds step over, and every branch of every tree they pass. Royd doesn''t seem too bothered at the idea of another fight, as one might expect from such a sturdy and eager fellow. Zyra, who has fallen to the back of the group with Atticus, has finally lost the look of self-defeat she had earlier, but the feeling is almost certainly still lurking beneath her skin. The knight can''t help but throw multiple curious and concerned glances her way. Suddenly, she turns her head in time for her eyes to lock with his.

    ¡°...Are you okay?¡± Atticus asks without being specific.

    Zyra looks to the other men, who are a small distance away, facing forward, preoccupied with keeping an eye out for undead. ¡°Not really.¡± She finally answers in a soft, but listless voice.

    ¡°Does it have something to do with what happened earlier?¡±

    ¡°You saw me, right?¡± The pyromancer looks toward the ground again, dejected. ¡°I''m... no good.¡±

    ¡°We can talk about it, if you''d like.¡± The knight offers his sincere assistance.

    ¡°You can help me?¡± Zyra slowly brings her gaze up at him with a hint of desperation in her eyes.

    ¡°I can try.¡± He replies with a nod. ¡°It''s been a long time since I last used pyromancy, though. I can''t guarantee I can tell you anything your teachers already haven''t.¡±

    ¡°I''ll take what I can get.¡± She responds, returning her stare down towards to ground in front of her.

    ¡°Why did you become a Mistwalker despite knowing how much trouble you have?¡±

    ¡°It''s not despite my trouble. It''s because of it.¡±

    Knowing the implication of her reply, Atticus pries further. ¡°Why such desperation, then?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± Zyra hesitates to answer initially, as she looks at the men in front of her again. She finishes her response in a very hushed voice. ¡°I''m on the verge of failing...¡±

    ¡°At the university?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She nods lightly, and continues to go into detail in a whisper. ¡°My second year there is coming to a close, and if I don''t improve soon, I''ll get kicked out. I only barely passed my first year exams.¡±

    ¡°You''d risk your life in such a dangerous manner just for your grades?¡± The knight can''t help but be perplexed at the situation the mage finds herself in.

    ¡°I have my reasons.¡± Zyra closes off the explanation. ¡°So will you help me?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± He nods. ¡°I''ll do what I can.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± She replies somberly.

    ¡°Hold!¡± The conversation is halted by the sound of Veros''s commanding voice. The group stop their horses. ¡°There''s a small group ahead.¡± He points forward, where the figures of four shambling undead wandering onto the road from the forest can be seen.

    ¡°They haven''t noticed us yet.¡± Kellar adds.

    ¡°Let''s get a closer look. There could be more ahead of them.¡± The stern leader announces, and the group proceeds forward slowly and cautiously. As they close in on the group of walking corpses, the mist begins to clear and allow a better view of them.

    ¡°Wait a minute.¡± Veros suddenly speaks again. ¡°I recognize those robes.¡± Two of the undead before them are wearing long, bright blue robes, and though they''ve become covered in dirt and filth, it''s still easy to notice the intricate patterns and embroidery on them.

    ¡°I think I''ve seen ''em, too.¡± Kellar interjects with agreement. ¡°Those robes are worn at the monastery in Evatica.¡±

    ¡°Yes, by the monks.¡± Veros adds in an inquisitive delivery. ¡°What are monks of Idrid doing out here?¡±

    ¡°Look at their faces.¡± Kellar points with the tip of his dagger. ¡°There''s almost no flesh left on ''em. They''ve been dead for a very long time ¨C practically skeletons now.¡±

    There''s virtually no skin left to be seen on the cadavers'' faces, only small patches here and there, and few strands of hair still attached to their rotted scalps. However, their pondering is cut short when the closest undead, one of the monks, notices the Mistwalkers, and begins to walk at them with deliberate aggression.

    ¡°Well, let''s get them off the road.¡± Veros declares as he dismounts his horse.

    ¡°I''ll join you.¡± Royd announces, with a hint of his usual eagerness for a fight. ¡°I need to stretch my legs.¡±

    The two men take their weapons and approach the corpses. Veros first uses his shield to bash the undead clergyman away, then follows up with a strong horizontal swing of his sword, cleanly slicing its head off as it struggles to regain balance. Royd is more straightforward, opting to simply bring his axe up, and swing it down vertically with immense power on the first undead he encounters. The amount of force practically crushes the walking stiff as if it were made of paper. Each man repeats the process once more on each of the two remaining enemies.

    ¡°I don''t see any others around. Guess it''s just these four.¡± Royd proclaims after examining the surrounding tree lines. Veros stands next to one of the supposed monks to get a closer look at him.

 VI. Fire of Inspiration (Section 2)

    ¡°These are definitely robes from the monastery, alright.¡± Veros talks aloud as he thinks. ¡°Not sure who this is, exactly. It''s hard to tell after he''s decomposed so much.¡±

    ¡°They don''t carry any sort of identification on ''em?¡± Kellar asks from his horse.

    ¡°Not that I know of, but I suppose it won''t hurt to look.¡± Veros kneels and begin to pat down the body.

    ¡°These other two fellas were Mistwalkers.¡± Royd announces after searching the bodies of the two non-monks. ¡°They had cards.¡± He hands both cards over the Kellar.

    ¡°Jacob Darvick and Sid Uppam.¡± He reads the names aloud. ¡°Their stamps have the same dates. Must''ve traveled together. Last stamps were over a month ago.¡± He places the cards in his bag without a second thought.

    ¡°No forms of identification on our religious friends.¡± Veros approaches the group, but raises his hand to show them two gold necklaces. ¡°But they were wearing Idrid medallions around their necks, which proves they were real monks.¡±

    ¡°If they had no Mistwalker cards on them, could they have been here since before the mist showed up?¡± Atticus chimes in with a question worth pondering.

    ¡°I''d be a bit surprised if that were the case, considering that would mean they''ve been undetected for the last several months, but...¡± Veros looks back down at the heavily decomposed corpses in blue robes. ¡°It would definitely explain how heavily rotted they''ve become.¡±

    ¡°Do high monks travel on their own like this?¡± Kellar inquires.

    ¡°No, not usually.¡± Veros replies. ¡°When they leave Evatica, they take some squires and monastery knights with them, especially when venturing into a different region.¡±

    ¡°So they could still be around?¡± Royd asks. ¡°These squires and knights?¡±

    ¡°It''s possible.¡± Veros hypothesizes. ¡°If the monks were able to wander around for this long, then their entourage could, as well. However, they might not be anywhere near here. They could''ve found themselves all the way at either coast, or maybe even up to Armasstadt.¡± He climbs back onto his horse, placing the medallions in his bag. ¡°Their presence here raises some interesting questions, but finding answers involves us going too far out of way. We should just continue making our way to the next checkpoint before the sun sets.¡±

    ¡°That''s fair.¡± Royd responds as he climbs back onto his horse, as well. ¡°What are you going to do with their medallions?¡±

    ¡°Should we ever accomplish our goal and make it out of here alive, I''ll go back to the monastery and return them.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn''t you rather sell ''em?¡± Kellar interrupts with a suggestion expected of him.

    ¡°It''s illegal to sell Idrid medallions that weren''t issued to you.¡± Veros states quickly and matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Well, aren''t you just a righteous man of the church.¡± Kellar bitterly replies.

    ¡°No, I''m just normal law-abider.¡± Veros states under his breath before announcing the group''s departure. ¡°Anyways, let''s go. We''re burning daylight.¡± The stern leader urges his horse forward, and the group follows.

    Another few hours of quiet journeying pass, and the sun is beginning to set. The physical and emotional fatigue of their Levinburg experience is finally catching up to them as they show hints of lethargy, though they manage to endure it.

    ¡°Is it just me...¡± Royd speaks up suddenly. ¡°Or is it a bit darker now than it was yesterday at the same time?¡±

    Atticus turns his head upward and to the west to look at the orange sky, slightly desaturated by the grey fog, and responds: ¡°The mist gets thicker as we get closer to the center of it, right? That''s likely why.¡±

    ¡°I wonder if we''d be able to even see our own feet beneath us once we close in on Armasstadt.¡± The large warrior says with an unsure shake of his head.

    ¡°We''ll figure it out once we get there.¡± Veros interjects. ¡°If it''s truly so bad that we can''t even see a brick wall until we walk into it, then it might be one of the few reasons to turn around.¡±

    ¡°The next checkpoint should be close by though, right?¡± Kellar asks.

    ¡°Yes. We should see it any second now.¡± The coolheaded leader answers.

    It doesn''t take much longer before the checkpoint does indeed enter their field of view, just off the road. It''s another walled safe zone with hastily-made watch towers and fenced-in perimeter. The group crosses into the interior of another magical barrier that keeps the mist of bay. They approach a gate where two soldiers, again in armor baring the Legion''s coat of arms on their torso, stand guard. One of them approaches.

    ¡°Hold!¡± The soldier commands. ¡°Are you all Mistwalkers?¡±

    ¡°Yes, we are.¡± Veros answers.

    ¡°Can I see your cards?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Veros reaches into his pant pocket, retrieving his folded card, and hands it over.

    ¡°Is this your first time reaching this Checkpoint Aethen?¡± The soldier asks.

    ¡°It is. For all of us.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°On your first outing, too. Impressive. Alright, everyone get your cards out. I''ll check them one by one, and you can go to headquarters.¡± The soldier returns Veros''s card while beckoning the others to line up and show their own.

    In order, Veros was followed by Royd, Kellar, Erik, Zyra, and Atticus. Once all of them are within the checkpoint walls, they go to the large cabin serving as headquarters, where they dismount their horses and tie them to a hitching posts near the front door. Bales of hay and water troughs were next to it, easily accessible to the animals. The Mistwalkers quietly enter the cabin, and repeat the same procedure they performed at the last checkpoint: simply standing in line and getting their cards stamped. Once finished, they enter the dining hall opposite from the check-in counter. As expected, there are a handful of soldiers scattered around, already eating their dinner for the day. There''s a few Mistwalkers among them, too. The selection of food available to eat is similar to what was offered at the previous checkpoint, but of lower quantity. Royd takes notice of this.

    ¡°There''s not as much food here as there was in Eowerth.¡± The bulky warrior gripes.

    ¡°I''d imagine it''s harder for food carts to reach checkpoints the further they are into the affected area.¡± Veros responds with a reasonable point.

    ¡°Just another part of what makes venturin'' deeper into the mist more and more difficult.¡± Kellar complains.

    ¡°Aye.¡± An unknown voice calls out in agreement. It belongs to a sturdy-looking soldier behind the food counter who approaches them. ¡°It does take a while for food shipments to get here. Aethen''s not in a very easily accessible area.¡±

    ¡°Are you the quartermaster here?¡± Veros inquires out of curiosity.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± The soldier responds. ¡°Quartermaster Terlus.¡±

    ¡°So is it because of the Tumarda River you''re in a bad spot?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Terlus nods. ¡°That and Levinburg. Food transport is told to go around them. It makes it harder for them to reach us, but the Emergency Corps was adamant on sticking to the plan of establishing checkpoints exactly fifty miles between each other.¡±

    ¡°So even the Legion is told to go around Levinburg...¡± Kellar repeats what he heard, shocked that the group did what even the proven military of Yhordran wouldn''t do.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Terlus catches Kellar''s grim expression and makes a guess as to what it means. ¡°You lot didn''t go through Levinburg, did you?¡±

    The group looks nervously at each other before Veros answers: ¡°Yes. We did.¡±

    ¡°By Idrid, are you all mad?¡± Terlus expresses deep surprise, but also with a tinge of amusement. ¡°Did all of you make it through? Don''t tell me you used to have ten more in your group.¡±

    ¡°No, we didn''t lose anyone.¡± Veros quickly responds. ¡°Though us being here and not being here is a difference that was made by a measurement of mere seconds.¡±

    ¡°Let''s just say that avoidin'' Levinburg is, without question, the right call to make.¡± Kellar chimes in with a sour expression, obviously displeased with the unnecessary situation the group had put themselves in. Irritated, he grabs a plate and begins to choose his meal, leaving the others behind.

    ¡°Was it really that bad?¡± Terlus asks.

    ¡°It was.¡± Veros responds sternly.

    ¡°Well, I''m glad to know you all made it out in one piece. Fill your bellies and take a load off. Gods know you deserve it.¡± With a sympathetic face, Terlus encourages the group to eat their fill.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Veros voices his gratitude. ¡°We certainly will.¡±

    One by one, the rest of the team picks up their plates and begins to choose among various fruits, vegetables, and cooked meats. They all huddle themselves together at the far end of one table, away from other groups and individuals. Royd wastes no time digging into his meal, which consists of almost nothing but slabs of beef and pork stacked on top of one another. Kellar can''t help but voice additional annoyance at what he heard earlier as he angrily cuts into his own meat, though keeping the volume of his voice reasonably low so as to not interrupt the surrounding soldiers and Mistwalkers.

    ¡°I can''t fuckin'' believe we went ahead and did something so dangerous, that even the Legion avoided doing it.¡±

    ¡°Hindsight is far clearer than foresight, Kellar.¡± Veros says with sigh. ¡°We didn''t know how bad Levinburg was, so it truly did seem like the better option at the time.¡±

    ¡°We all made it out.¡± Royd announces with confidence as he violently gnashes on his meat. ¡°Without a single misplaced person or item, at that. So rather than moaning about how dangerous it was, instead we should rejoice that we came out completely unscathed!¡±

    Kellar throws a disdainful glare at Royd''s apparent lack of self-preservation, and resumes bitterly eating his meal.

    ¡°I wonder if anyone here knows about the monks we saw earlier today.¡± Veros thinks aloud.

    ¡°Monks are important to the clergy here, right?¡± Atticus, the foreigner, joins in the discussion. ¡°Wouldn''t the monastery be up in arms if some of them went missing or died?¡±

    ¡°They would. However, it doesn''t mean they''d be vocal about it. They could be in a panic, but only private, so as to not alarm the public.¡±

    ¡°That''s a bit iffy.¡± Kellar pauses his brooding to also voice his thoughts on the subject. ¡°Missin'' monks is a pretty big deal. I don''t think they''d try to hide it unless making it public would reveal somethin'' shady.¡±

    ¡°Why those monks were here, why the monastery hasn''t said anything; I couldn''t begin to guess why for any of it.¡± Veros listlessly pokes and prods at his food, lost in thought.

    ¡°Could there be more out there? Undead monks wandering the region?¡± The black knight asks.

    ¡°Possibly. Considering how decomposed the ones we found were, they were dead for quite a while. Other Mistwalkers could''ve seen more.¡±

    ¡°Don''t you think we would''ve heard about it if they had?¡± Kellar interjects, insistant upon his idea of shady dealings.

    ¡°I don''t know.¡± Veros responds with a simultaneous sigh and shrug. ¡°Now you have me wondering if I should even dare ask around for more information.¡±

    ¡°I think we should focus on reaching Armasstadt, first and foremost.¡± Royd speaks up, hovering over his now blank plate, wiping the stray pieces of meat from his mustache. ¡°We''re here to solve the mystery of the mist. It''d be bad to get distracted by other things while in such dangerous territory.¡±

    ¡°Well, that''s some wisdom I wouldn''t expect to come from you.¡± Kellar states mockingly.

    ¡°Haha! Well, when my belly is full, so is my mind.¡± Royd pokes his temple with his finger while sporting an egotistical grin. Kellar just puts on a bewildered expression, unsure of what his burly comrade''s statement was intended to mean.

    ¡°A fair point, Royd.¡± Veros chimes in with agreement. ¡°We should take our journey one goal at a time.¡± Content with the conversation, though if still a bit curious, he resumes eating his meal, as does Kellar.

    Not long afterward, the group is setting up camp next to the checkpoint barracks. Everyone''s tents are set up and bedrolls are laid out. Veros, Kellar, Royd, and Zyra are huddled around a small bonfire, and Atticus starts to remove his heavy black armor, replacing it with a more comfortable cotton shirt. Before he sits down to take in the warmth of the flame, Erik comes from headquarters with a quiver full of new arrows.

    ¡°Atticus.¡± The archer speaks in his rarely-heard, but smooth voice. ¡°Would you mind shooting with me? They have a small range behind headquarters.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± The knight responds in kind, despite being a bit surprised that he''d be fulfilling his promise so soon.

    The archer, with a face of clear anticipation, turns and walks back in the direction he came from. Atticus turns and looks at Zyra, curling his hand upward in an inviting motion.

    ¡°Want to join us?¡± He asks.

    ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± The pyromancer accepts the invitation, as equally surprised as the knight was at Erik''s.

 VI. Fire of Inspiration (Section 3)

    Atticus grabs his own bow and quiver and follows Erik behind Checkpoint Aethen headquarters, with Zyra trailing close behind. As they turn the corner, they see Erik already nocking an arrow into his bowstring, taking aim, pulling it back, and loosing the arrow in one swift, uninterrupted motion. Their eyes follow the arrow''s trajectory and witness it nail the bullseye of one of several hay targets with red circles painted on it approximately one hundred feet away.

    ¡°Impressive.¡± Atticus can''t help but react positively at the precise shot. ¡°I noticed how quickly and efficiently you were taking out the undead back at Levinburg, too. You definitely have years of experience.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Erik nods with a proud smile. ¡°I noticed how good you were then, as well. Come, join me.¡± The archer beckons the knight to stand next to him, and the knight obliges.

    Bow in hand, Atticus pulls an arrow out of his quiver and takes a deep breath. Similar to how Erik took his own shot, the knight nocks an arrow, aims, pulls the string back, and looses it just as quickly. It cuts the air with just as much speed, and pierces the hay target next to Erik''s. However, it''s not as centered. Atticus''s arrow is touching the very edge of the innermost red circle, while Erik''s is in the exact middle. Nevertheless, the archer is pleased.

    ¡°Very good.¡± Erik expresses his satisfaction.

    ¡°You have the edge on me, though.¡± Atticus concedes.

    ¡°Ah, it''s not that big of a margin.¡± The superior archer tries to stay modest.

    ¡°How long have you been practicing?¡±

    ¡°For twenty years, since I was eight.¡±

    ¡°Have you been competing that long, too?¡±

    ¡°Just about.¡±

    ¡°No wonder. You''re extremely impressive.¡± The knight continues his praise of his teammate''s displayed ability.

    ¡°You''re very skillful in your own right.¡± Erik smiles and points at Atticus encouragingly. ¡°The fact that you''re almost as good at archery as someone with twenty years of competitive experience while also being an extremely competent swordsman is definitely a testament to your capabilities.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that.¡± The humbled knight graciously accepts praise of his own.

    ¡°...And a testament to the combat expertise of the Threcian royal guard.¡± Erik slyly remarks, catching both the knight and Zyra, who is listening in, by surprise.

    ¡°When did you figure it out?¡± Atticus asks, not bothering to dodge the conversation this time around.

    ¡°Well, I recognized the armor when I first saw you,¡± The archer begins his explanation while nocking another arrow onto his bowstring, ¡°but I wasn''t sure if you were the real thing until we arrived at Levinburg. Before then, you could''ve been some fraud who found a way to acquire that armor illegally.¡± He looses the second arrow, and once again strikes the center of the bullseye with such precision, it grazes the first one.

    ¡°You must be of noble birth if you were given an opportunity to learn of the Threcian royal guard without even attending the university.¡± Atticus nocks another arrow himself and takes aim. ¡°And I assume your original invitation to shoot with you was to find out if I was legitimate?¡± He looses his arrow, and once again hits the edge of the innermost red circle, but this time on the opposite side of where the first arrow landed.

    ¡°You''re right on both accounts.¡± Erik readily admits while nocking a third arrow. ¡°My father inherited the Bebbenborrow Memorial Library in Evatica when I was a little boy. I learned about various Rhodish cities thanks to the books there, including Threcia.¡± He looses the third arrow, and as expected, it nails the center of the bullseye again, shoulder to shoulder with the previous two.

    ¡°A little over a day ago, I thought I was keeping a relatively low profile.¡± The knight voices disappointment in his own lack of foresight while nocking his own third arrow. ¡°Then I ended up joining a group of Mistwalkers who could tell where I''m from by just looking at me.¡± He looses it, and once again hits the bullseye, this time closer to the exact center, but still away from the previous two arrows, creating a visibile triangle of space between them.

    ¡°Well, it''s hard to be subtle when you''re walking around in armor that no one''s ever seen before.¡± Erik bluntly states with a grin.

    ¡°You''re right.¡± Atticus admits. ¡°I can''t bring myself to get rid of it, though.¡±

    ¡°That''s fair. You''re better off with it on this mission, anyway.¡± The noble ends the conversation without digging further. Instead, he points towards the hay targets in front of them. ¡°You hit the edge of the bullseye each time, which means you have excellent accuracy. However, they''re spaced apart, showing that you don''t have as easy a time hitting the same spot consecutively, which means your precision isn''t as good, though it''s sufficient in general.¡±

    ¡°How do you think I''d do in a competition?¡± Atticus ponders, half-seriously.

    ¡°Third place. Possibly second.¡± Erik answers promtply, and with confidence.

    ¡°Not first?¡±

    ¡°Not if I''m in the same tournament.¡± The professional archer dons a triumphant grin and walks past the knight, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder while returning to the tents. ¡°It was nice shooting with you!¡± He comments without turning around.

    ¡°That sure was interesting.¡± Zyra, who had been quietly watching the whole time, finally speaks up. ¡°In the few days I''ve known him, I''ve never heard him talk so much, and with such enthusiasm about something. Nice to see his real personality for a change. Though I wonder why a noble like him would bother coming out here.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps shooting stationary targets isn''t fulfilling anymore.¡± Atticus throws out his first guess without much thought. ¡°Either way, we all have our reasons.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± The pyromancer says as she stares at the hay targets with arrows protruding from them. ¡°Actually, since we''re here, can you help me with my casting?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°Sure. Your bracelet has two stones in it, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, since I''m a second year.¡± Zyra looks down at her bracelet and the two red stones embedded into it. ¡°So I know the most basic utility and offensive spells.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Atticus nods. ¡°Show me ''Combustion''.¡±

    ¡°Okay...¡± The novice pyromancer takes a deep breath and faces away, towards the empty space of the shooting range. ¡°Combustion...¡± She holds her right hand up, palm facing downward, index finger and thumb extended, and the three remaining fingers curled. She takes several more heavy breaths as she stares at her hand with intent, but no flame is conjuring.

    ¡°Don''t be afraid to say the incantation out loud. It''s what you were taught to do.¡± The knight from Threcia continues to instruct as she struggles. ¡°I know some mages fear looking like beginners because of it, but you must learn to walk before you can run.¡±

    Zyra inhales deeply and speaks the incantation at a whisper. ¡°Combustra...¡± The two stones in her bracelet begin to glow with the faintest of light, but no fire emerges from her fingertip.

    ¡°Again.¡± Atticus commands, noticing the glimmer. ¡°Remember to visualize the fire, and stress the correct syllable of the incantation.¡±

    The pyromancer takes a deep breath, and pauses. She stares at her hand, desperately trying to clear her mind of any distractions and visualize the flame. After a moment of particularly intentful concentration, she speaks the incantation louder, making sure to emphasize the second syllable.

    ¡°Combustra.¡± And in an instant, the two arcane stones in her bracelet shine with a bright red glow and a burst of flame spews from the tip of her finger, creating a controlled inferno almost as large as her, coming directly from her hand, suspended in mid-air. It lingers for only a second, as the spell is intended to, before it disappears with the same immediacy as it came.

    ¡°Good.¡± The knight says with a soft nod. ¡°It came out very strong, but you took too long to conjure it. Why is that?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± Zyra hesitates, letting out a long sigh before admitting her shortcomings. ¡°I have trouble concentrating.¡±

    ¡°In what way?¡±

    ¡°Clearing my mind and visualizing the fire.¡±

    Atticus inhales sharply and begins his dissection. ¡°Well, considering how much time it took for you to complete the spell not only now, but the last two times you conjured fireballs, it certainly seems to have trouble with visualization. However, when your spells do come out, they do so quite powerfully, which means strong emotions are behind them, despite the delay.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± The mage admits in a cheerless tone while looking at her bracelet. ¡°The fact my spells come out with such force is what saved me from failing my first year final exams.¡±

    ¡°Strong execution means you certainly want them to come out. But delayed conjuring suggests something unrelated to the spell is clouding your mind.¡± Atticus takes a step closer and softens his tone slightly. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°My... my family.¡± Zyra is reluctant to speak candidly of what keeps her mind preoccupied, but forces it out anyway. ¡°Every time I try to cast a spell, I can''t help but also think about how desperate I am to not disappoint them.¡±

    ¡°You might be thinking too much about how desperate you are to cast, and not enough on actually casting.¡± The instructive knight says. ¡°A thin line that separates the two, so you might not notice the difference while you''re actually trying to do it, but it''s night and day in the way it affects your performance.¡±

    ¡°How should I approach it, then?¡±

    ¡°Instead of thinking ''I need to cast'' and picturing your family, instead think ''I will cast'' and picture the flame.¡± Atticus suggests a solution that seems almost too obvious to be true.

    ¡°Will such a small difference really work?¡± Inquires Zyra with an apprehensive expression. ¡°I feel like that''s what I''ve been trying to do this whole time.¡±

    Atticus gives a small shrug. ¡°It''s a subtle difference when you think of one right next to the other, but they''re two sides to the same coin ¨C night and day, as I said. If you think about needing to cast, then you force yourself to picture your family, as they''re the reason you need to do it. But if you think you will cast, then you force yourself to visualize the conjuration of the flame. A focused mind is the most important aspect of casting, everything else is second. Even the pronunciation of the incantation isn''t as important.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Zyra is particularly perplexed by those last two statements. ¡°We were told at the university that pronunciation is the crucial.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is. But even you mispronounce it, or stress the wrong syllable, something could still come out. But absolutely nothing will come out at all if you can''t visualize the cas and focus on your bracelet.¡±

    ¡°I see...¡± She looks back at her wrist, now grasping the difference between visualization and incantation, and their varying caliber of importance in the process of casting.

    ¡°Think of it like this: I have my bow, right here.¡± The knight lifts it, presenting it as a visual aid. ¡°The process of casting a spell is like shooting an arrow.¡± He takes a new arrow from his quiver, and holds it up too. ¡°Making the appropriate hand gesture is like nocking the arrow into the string.¡± Atticus does exactly that, setting the back end of the arrow into the bowstring. ¡°Your focus is what draws the string back.¡± He takes aim down the range and pulls the string back. ¡°Finally, the incantation is what looses the arrow.¡± He releases the string and shoots the arrow, which hits near the bullseye of the hay target he used earlier. ¡°Understand?¡±

    Zyra nods eagerly. ¡°I do. That explanation helps a lot. That''s why focus is the most important: without it, the arrow ¨C the spell ¨C isn''t going anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Now, try again.¡± Atticus encourages another attempt and takes a few steps back to give the practicing mage her space. ¡°Remember: don''t think about how desperate you are to cast. Think about the fact you will cast. You don''t need to do it. You will do it.¡±

    ¡°Okay...¡± Zyra takes another, very deep breath and faces toward the range again.

    ¡°Say it to yourself in your head: ''I will cast.''¡± Atticus continues to encourage her as she builds her concentration. ¡°Repeat it slowly while visualizing the arcane energy of the bracelet making its way to your fingertip and forming a flame. Then, when you''re ready, say the incantation out loud.¡±

    Quietly taking his adivce to heart, the novice pyromancer positions herself as she did before: right hand forward, palm down, index finger and thumb extended. Furrowing her brow and slightly narrowing her eyes, she glares intensely at her own hand, but with less uncertainty than before, and more focused intent. She''s unquestionably doing as Atticus instructed, and is repeating the phrase to herself while visualizing the flame. Though she isn''t casting immediately, it''s without a doubt that her mind is clearer than it was in the previous attempt. She stays silent for a prolonged moment, but before long, she confidently utters the incantation.

    ¡°Combustra.¡± She says with force. The two stones in her bracelet light up with powerful incandescense, and a large, searing hot flame pours from her fingertip, and stays suspended in midair for a single second before disappearing, just as before. Zyra heaves a long sigh of breath that she had been holding in for a while, and Atticus walks up her.

    ¡°You did good.¡± The knight says with a commending nod. ¡°Keep doing what you did, and before long, you''ll be able to cast instantly, maybe even without saying the incantation out loud.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± The pyromancer glances up at him with a grateful smile. ¡°I really appreciate your advice. For someone who says he hasn''t used magic in a long time, you''re a very good instructor.¡±

    ¡°I knew someone a long time ago who had similar trouble with casting.¡± Atticus casually reveals with a half-shrug.

    ¡°Did they ever overcome it?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± He nods. ¡°Eventually she did.¡±

    Ever-so-slightly, Zyra tilts her head and for a split second, a look of curiosity crosses her face. She wants to ask who it is he''s referring to, but a pang of doubt stops her from uttering the words. Instead, without really knowing why, she takes the opportunity to change the topic.

    ¡°Mind if we stay here and continue practicing?¡± She asks with a hint of eagerness.

    ¡°Sure. It''s not like we have anywhere else to be tonight.¡± Atticus responds promptly with a small grin.

 VII. Ashes (Section 1)

    The next morning, as the group is taking down their tents and reequipping themselves to continue their journey, they discuss the plan for the day ahead.

    ¡°So what''s in our way for the next fifty miles?¡± Kellar asks to no one in particular.

    ¡°Well, the forest will begin to end, at least.¡± Veros answers. ¡°It''ll help with our visibility, which grows smaller as the mist gets denser.¡±

    ¡°Will there be another town in the way?¡± Atticus asks as he begins to don his black iron armor.

    ¡°None the size of Levinburg, thankfully. There is one village, though. Legarthat. It''s about fifteen miles north of here.¡±

    ¡°So we should have a pretty easy, straightforward day today.¡± Kellar voices how relief in a supposed lack of danger expected for today''s travel. ¡°Thank the Gods. They know I''m not eager to have another Levinburg experience.¡±

    ¡°Well, to be honest, Legarthat isn''t that small.¡± Veros explains bluntly. ¡°It''s a farming village that also saw lots of trade activity due to being in the center of a large area of other villages and towns.¡±

    ¡°I look forward to a bit of excitement.¡± Royd chimes in with a more positive tone. Kellar just grunts with a sour expression.

    ¡°At the very least, it''s not walled off.¡± The group leader goes into further detail. ¡°So even if undead to roam around the area, we can escape with ease.¡±

    ¡°If it is totally empty, though,¡± Kellar turns around with a more argumentive tone. ¡°I want some time to see if there''s anythin'' of value worth takin''. Levinburg was a complete bust due to how dangerous it was. I came on this ridiculous journey with the intent of findin'' loot, and I think I''m owed some time to be able to at least look.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Veros sighs. ¡°If Legarthat has no signs of danger, we''ll spend some time to look for valuables. Just remember that it''s going to get darker sooner than yesterday due to the thicker fog, so we can''t meander around for too long.¡±

    ¡°Fine by me.¡± Kellar remarks with a smile. ¡°I''ll be happy with findin'' damn near anything at this point.¡± Content with Veros''s promise, Kellar continues to pack up his bedroll.

    Later, the six Mistwalkers have mounted their horses and are making their way out of the gate. One by one, they exit the safety of Checkpoint Aethen''s arcane barrier and make their way to the road.

    ¡°The air feels much heavier out here than it was inside the checkpoint.¡± Royd comments. ¡°And the fog is assuredly much thicker than it was back at Zenith Gate.¡± He says while looking northward, down the road. Indeed, visibility is even shorter now than it was when the journey started, thanks to the mist growing in density as they progress.

    ¡°It''s not going to get any better, unfortunately.¡± Veros brusquely states. ¡°Is everyone ready to get going? You''ve all grabbed your food for the day from the dining hall, right?¡±

    ¡°Aye!¡± Royd announces with a pat on his stuffed food bag. The others follow with confirming nods.

    ¡°Alright then. Let''s go.¡± Veros turns his horse, and leads the group onward.

    Several miles into the day''s journey, the group has maintained a consistent pace. Veros is still at the front. Atticus and Royd are side by side, behind him by about twenty feet. Behind them is Kellar, and then behind him is Zyra and Erik.

    Royd turns his head to look at the three teammates behind him, specifically the archer and pyromancer at the rear. They''re riding silently, staring straight ahead, with only the occasional glances at their surroundings. The bulky warrior then quietly commands his horse to close the gap between himself and the knight. He leans in and speaks in a softened volume.

    ¡°Say, knight.¡± Royd captures the attention of his black iron-clad comrade. ¡°Do you know the mage?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Atticus responds, confused at the sudden conversation.

    ¡°I mean, have you met her before you joined us the other day?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± The knight slightly shakes his head. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Ah. I was just curious.¡± Royd straighens himself in his saddle again. ¡°She had joined us while we were still within Evatica''s walls, and barely said a word since then. You''re the first person she''s spoken to without being a asked a question first.¡±

    ¡°She just wanted to know about my armor.¡± Atticus gives a blunt, vague summary of his first conversation with Zyra.

    ¡°If you don''t mind me asking, what did you two do last night?¡± Royd inquires, with his eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead.

    ¡°We just talked about pyromancy.¡± Slightly furrowing his brow with increasing suspicion of the nature of this conversation, the knight gives another short, purposefully vague summary of his time with Zyra. He is also careful to word himself in a way that doesn''t suggest the mage''s unrefined skill.

    ¡°You know pyromancy too?¡± Royd is visibily taken aback by this new bit of information, and almost shouts.

    ¡°Only a little.¡± Atticus softens his expression, somewhat relieved that he deviated the topic to something else. ¡°I practiced it years ago, but eventually took up the sword and bow instead.¡±

    ¡°You''re quite something.¡± The large man is clearly impressed with his partner''s experience in a multitude of different forms of fighting. ¡°All I''ve had for the last eighteen years is the axe. It''s served me well.¡±

    ¡°Were you in the Yhordran Legion?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no, I wasn''t.¡± Royd shakes his head. ¡°I''m just a woodcutter; as was my father, my grandfather, and so on. You remember the giant palisades that make up the southern barrier?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± The knight nods.

    ¡°I helped build them, as did a few thousand other men. Those were a very busy three weeks.¡± The muscular woodcutter reminisces about those exhausting days of hastily constructing the tall walls. Atticus, who looks rather pensive, slowly forces himself to ask something that might be a bit personal.

    ¡°Before I left Zenith Gate, I saw you and others at the eatery.¡± The knight begins with context. ¡°I heard you talk to Tarvus. Are you and him really cousins?¡±

    ¡°Aye. We are.¡± Royd confirms quickly. ¡°He''s my cousin from my mother''s side. They''re a family of farmers, but their farm was unfortunately on this side of the barrier, so they had to relocate.¡±A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°That explains why he knew so much about the farms here.¡± The knight voices his thoughts aloud, recalling the detail Tarvus went into about how some land in the affected area are specialty farms and such. ¡°Where is their farm located? Will it be on our path north?¡±

    ¡°Nah.¡± Royd shakes his head. ¡°Their farm is closer to the west coast, much further south than we are right now. If we had entered from the western gate, we would have passed it on the first day out.¡±

    ¡°Ah. That''s fortunate, then.¡±

    ¡°Aye. He''s still furious about losing his farm though, as you can imagine.¡± The brawny woodcutter pauses for a second, at looks up at the sky with a sharp inhale. ¡°I think this is why I''m going on this adventure.¡±

    ¡°To get Tarvus his farm back?¡± Atticus asks, uncertain if that''s what he means.

    ¡°No.¡± Royd shakes his head. ¡°Well, partly. I mean I sympathize with all the hard-working people of Yhordran who break their backs doing manual labor to make a living. Countless families lost those means in the last several months, and were forced to abandon their homes. Assuming, of course, they didn''t die in the attempt to leave.¡±

    ¡°What happens to those families who have to relocate? Does the crown accommodate them in any way?¡±

    ¡°Sadly, no. The crown and Legion are ¨C or at least were ¨C too busy trying to figure out how to dispose of the mysterious mist to begin with. The clergy attempts to help, but they don''t have the workforce to build homes as fast they need to, as most of the men and even some of the women who are relocated end up signing up for Mistwalker duty and going back into the danger they left their homes to avoid in the first place.¡± Royd pushes out an exasperated sigh. ¡°As a result, many are homeless. Countless children are orphaned, too. The luckiest ones had family in Evatica they could live with, or at the very least friends who own farms south of the barrier that they could work on and pull their weight in exchange for shelter.¡±

    Atticus is struck by how morose Royd seems to be while discussing such unfortunate topics. It''s undoubtedly the most glum he''s seen the mighty fighter since meeting him; it''s a very stark contrast to how eager he usually is to continue into danger. No doubt he empathizes deeply with those affected working-class Yhordran denizens driven from their homes. The knight had always assumed that Royd''s excited desire to delve into the mist was just for thrill-seeking, but his true motives seem to be far more selfless.

    ¡°I''d say all of that is the main reason I''m going on this treacherous journey.¡± The large man continues.

    ¡°Is there any other reason?¡± Atticus asks, genuinely curious if his comrade''s motives become even more personal.

    ¡°Honestly...¡± Royd''s expression is contemplative for a moment, which slightly draws the knight''s curiosity even more. Then a big smile suddenly crosses his face, a total turnaround in aura. ¡°Part of me just can''t pass up a good dance with danger! Ha ha!¡± The axe-wielding battler completes his thought with a belly laugh.

    Atticus relaxes himself and sits straight in his saddle again. He heaves a small sigh as he quietly rescinds his assumption that Royd wasn''t a thrill-seeker after all. However, he still respects him for being so invested in his people.

    About two more hours of quiet travel passes, and the group finally comes across a roadside sign that reads ''Legarthat, 1 Mile''.

    ¡°Alright, everyone.¡± Veros announces to the team. ¡°We''re about to finally enter Legarthat. Keeps your eyes open and stay alert until we know the village is clear of threats.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Kellar is the one voicing confirmation this time, obviously anticipating the looting he had been expecting since the mission began.

    Soon after, they pass the waist-high fences of homes at the village''s border and enter Legarthat proper. While the streets aren''t cobbled stone and no massive gate or portcullis is welcoming them, it''s obviously rather dense for just a village ¨C to the point where calling it a ¡°village¡± seems like the wrong term. They pass over a dozen empty homes; most of them tiny, barely fit to be compared to more than a storage shack in terms of size. Their eyes are peeled for aggressive undead, but they hear no stirring whatsoever from any direction. Soon, they reach the first intersection.

    ¡°Hold.¡± Veros raises his fist to signal the group to come to a stop. They all scan their surroundings, making sure to check the road each way, including the way they came from.

    ¡°This place looks empty.¡± Royd says his initial thoughts of Legarthat aloud.

    ¡°Levinburg looked empty too.¡± Veros retorts.

    ¡°Well, we don''t have time to patrol every inch of this place.¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°I say we just continue down this road and inspect houses as we go along.¡±

    ¡°The village square isn''t too far ahead.¡± The team leader offers his own plan. ¡°Erik, Zyra, and I can scout ahead to make sure there''s nothing that can surprise us, while you, Royd, and Atticus go through the buildings that line the road.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± Kellar is quick to agree to the plan.

    ¡°Are you two alright with it?¡± Veros looks at Royd and Atticus.

    ¡°Aye.¡± The bulky warrior says with a nod.

    ¡°I am.¡± The knight follows suit.

    ¡°Erik? Zyra?¡± Veros asks the remaining two teammates.

    ¡°I''m fine with it.¡± Erik says monotonically, and Zyra follows with a silent nod.

    ¡°Alright, let''s get going.¡± Veros turns his horse towards the way leading north and begins to slowly follow it. Erik and Zyra trail behind him, and Kellar, Royd, and Atticus ¨C the inspection team ¨C break away to different homes that surround the intersection, and dismount their horses to enter the abandoned domiciles.

    One by one, the inspection group enter and search every home along the main street, weapons ready for any threats that might await them inside. Unfortunately, it becomes more and more apparent that the only things left for them to find are more dirt and dust. Despite being so much deeper into the affected region, it''s still rare to discover any semblance of valuables abandoned by their previous owner. No jewelry, no silver cups, no coins or well-crafted weapons; only overturned tables and chairs, empty fire pits, and the occasional ragged clothing, torn animal skins, and rotten foods seemingly discarded mid-meal. Kellar, annoyed, grows desperate enough to begin ransacking cupboards and closets and flipping over beds in hopes of finding anything worth taking.

    After they go through about a dozen houses, Kellar stands in the middle of the open street and can''t help but voice his irritation.

    ¡°There''s still fuckin'' nothin''!¡± He nearly yells. Royd, exiting yet another fruitless search, approaches him.

    ¡°We may be deeper into the mist, but it''s been months since these homes were abandoned.¡± The big man tries to offer an explanation with an uninvested shrug. ¡°There could''ve been several groups like ours who have successfully made this far and looted the place already.¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡± Kellar half-heartedly utters with a disappointed sigh.

    ¡°Why is finding loot so important?¡± Royd bluntly inquires as if he''d been holding the question in for the last few days. ¡°You''re still making money by simply being out here.¡±

    ¡°It''s not enough.¡± The rogue coldly answers. ¡°It''s... not enough for what I need.¡±

    Royd furrows his brow, curious as to what his comrade could possibly mean by ''need''. He contemplates asking for a moment before Atticus approaches them.

    ¡°Should we keep searching?¡± The knight asks. He doesn''t seem to mind either way.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Kellar answers affirmatively, but with little optimism. ¡°Let''s keep searching.¡± He unenthusiastically starts towards the next uninspected building. Atticus does the same, then so does Royd after a non-commital shrug.

    Meanwhile, the scouting team follow the road northward at a very deliberate pace, making extra sure to not be blindsided by any life-treatening surprises. Without dismounting their horses, they simply use their eyes to scan every doorway, window, alley, and shed within their field of view for anything that could be a hostile. Save for the sound of their steeds'' hooves hitting the dirt beneath them, everything is just as eerily quiet as it has been all day. Soon enough, they see a clearing in the distance.

    ¡°The village square must be up ahead.¡± Veros announces. ¡°We''ll wait there for the others.¡±

    They continue forward at the same pace, and the clearing grows bigger and bigger as the mist begins to disperse. However, a strange sight enters their view: some sort of large, indistinguishable black mass on the ground, standing at about two feet high.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Veros asks aloud. Erik and Zyra are equally perplexed.

    They get closer, and the mysterious lump begins to bare a distinguishable shape. It''s a human. More specifically, a kneeling human who has been burned to a pitch black crisp. What''s more, is that it isn''t the only one. In fact, there are many; all in the same kneeling position, in the shape of two circles ¨C an outer one and inner one.

    ¡°What on earth?¡± Veros utters at the horrific sight, his face twisted in disgust.

    ¡°Good gods...¡± Even the usually stoic Erik can''t help but give voice to his shock. Next to him, Zyra is simply frozen with her mouth agape.

 VII. Ashes (Section 2)

    Veros speeds his horse up to approach the site. There, he quickly dismounts and stares at the numerous remains, trying to grasp at any clue as to what had occurred here. The inner circle of victims consists of eight people, and the outer circle ¨C spaced away enough from the inner one to allow someone to walk between them ¨C is made up of eighteen. Every single one of them is positioned the same: on their knees, hands behind their back, head hanging forward, facing away from the center of the circle. Each person has been so badly charred, that it''s no longer possible to determine any sort of finer detail about their appearance outside of the fact that they were adult humans. They practically look as if they had been carved out of giant lumps of coal.

    ¡°What... is this?¡± Veros, who is usually composed, repulsed nearly beyond words at the sight, and has no idea what to make of it. ¡°I''ve never seen anything like this before. Who did this, and why?¡±

    Erik and Zyra approach the site, too. Neither of them have any sort of hypothesis they could dream of making that could explain what they''re seeing. However, Erik suddenly has an epiphany.

    ¡°Wait.¡± The archer begins to piece together things in his mind. ¡°I think I''ve seen this somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Where?¡± Veros inquires immediately, desperate for an asnwer.

    ¡°I''ve read about this when I was a boy, in my father''s library. ¨C a book about religious history.¡± Erik begins an explanation. ¡°This is called ''Aldrua'', a sacrificial ritual.¡±

    ¡°A sacrificial ritual?¡± Veros repeats the phrase with a tinge of bewilderment, and looks back at the human circles. ¡°I''ve never heard of anything like this before.¡±

    ¡°That''s because the ritual was outlawed over three hundred years ago.¡± Erik continues. ¡°King Eodemherth the Third and the clergy put a lot of effort into phasing out this practice, going so far as to totally wipe any mention of it from scriptures used at functioning monasteries and chapels. They said it was ''barbarism masquerading as worship''.¡±

    ¡°What in the world would drive them to do this? What was the purpose of this ritual?¡±

    ¡°If I recall correctly, it was used mostly during disease epidemics, meant to offer many people at once so they can dispose of the sickness plaguing the land.¡±

    ¡°This...¡± Veros shakes his head, his voice lowered by the sheer disappointment he feels at the thought of his people being driven to such awful measures.

    ¡°As I said, the crown and clergy went through great lengths to make sure this ritual was forgotten among the common folk, so...¡± Erik continues, tilting his head in confusion. ¡°I don''t know what shocks me more: the fact they performed this ritual, or the fact anyone out here knew about it at all. As far as I know, the only way left to learn it is so either read the same books I did in the library, or be taught it by someone who did.¡±

    Veros doesn''t say anything. His head is swirling with a hurricane of different thoughts. Who did this? How did they learn of the ritual to begin with? How long ago did this happen? Could it have been prevented? Can the people of Yhordran truly be driven to such madness so quickly? Deep down, he feels like someone, anyone ¨C either himself or another ¨C should''ve been able to solve the mystery of the mist before something like this could''ve happened. His feelings around these questions are only worsened by his realization that the likelihood of any of them being answered is slim. If anything, he began this journey in hope of getting closer to answers, not further away from them.

    As the scouting team continues to stand perplexed and dismayed at the gruesome ritual site, the inspection team finally rejoins them, perched on their horses.

    ¡°What in the hell?!¡± Kellar''s voice is first to be heard as they approach the charred bodies. ¡°What fuckin'' curse is this?¡±

    ¡°Oh, dear...¡± Royd voices his shock, as well. Atticus, equally appalled but also curious, can''t help but dismount his horse and get a closer look.

    ¡°Who did this?¡± The knight asks to anyone who can answer.

    ¡°We don''t know.¡± Erik responds. ¡°This is an old sacrificial ritual that was banned over three hundred years ago. There''s very, very few people who could''ve orchestrated this.¡±

    ¡°How the fuck does anyone up here know of a ritual that hasn''t been used in hundreds of years?¡± Kellar wonders aloud.

    ¡°That''s what we''ve been asking ourselves.¡± Erik replies bluntly.

    ¡°These sacrifices...¡± Atticus speaks up while looking at one of the remains. ¡°I don''t think I see any signs of them being tied up.¡± The knight looks closely at the hands of one of the bodies. Their wrists aren''t clasped together by rope or any such binding. Rather, one hand simply holding the other.

    Veros heaves a sigh at the new information. He doesn''t know what''s worse: these sacrifices being forced to die, or doing it voluntarily, as they have different, but equally bad implications. He decides to take his mind off it by trying to talk about something else.

    ¡°Were you all able to find anything?¡± Veros forces out a question aimed at the inspection team.

    ¡°Nah.¡± Kellar answers with a disappointed shake of his head. ¡°Just dirt, dust, and worthless trash.¡±

    ¡°There were some signs that this place has been looted before.¡± Royd chimes in. ¡°We''re still not even halfway into the affected region, so I''m sure plenty of other groups have gotten here.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°Did you encounter any undead?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°Actually, no, we didn''t.¡± Kellar replies, slightly surprised at the realization. ¡°For a place this big, you''d think there''d be at least a few stragglers here and there, but we haven''t seen any.¡±

    ¡°Do you want to keep searching the area for loot?¡±

    ¡°Honestly...¡± Kellar sighs and slumps his shoulders. ¡°I don''t want to bother with the place anymore. We''re halfway into the village and haven''t found a damn thing. I doubt there''s anythin'' in the other half. Not worth wastin'' daylight.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Veros acknowledges with a nod, but isntead of departing immediately, his gaze is drawn by the burnt remains once more.

    ¡°If looters came by here, then they must''ve seen this, right?¡± Atticus asks, still crouched next to one of the charred bodies.

    ¡°Unless it happened somewhat recently.¡± Erik responds with his own conjecture. ¡°I don''t know how or when, though.¡±

    The knight then hears the subtle crunch of something moving on the dirt. He looks down at the corpse near him and notices tiny flakes of ash falling from it, despite there not being even the slightest breeze in the air.

    ¡°Let''s continue on, then.¡± Veros finally gives the order to depart, and turns toward his horse, ready to mount and depart.

    Atticus turns his head as well, with the intent of returning to his mount, Annaliese. Yet as he stands, the awkward crunching noises he heard before are suddently amplified to an almost roar-like volume for a fraction of a second. The knight swings his head back around toward the body was we looking at, and now sees its form, standing threateningly before him, its face lacking any detail aside from its cracked, dark surface. One by one, all of the sacrifices follow suit, and awkwardly jolt their bodies upward with momentum one would not expect from ashen remains.

    ¡°Oh, fuck!¡± Kellar screams at the top of his lungs as he and all the other Mistwalkers stall for a short moment to mentally adjust to what they''re seeing as the horrific beings slowly shuffle towards them.

    Atticus''s eyes widen in near-paralyzing shock; every synapse in his brain is sending countless signals to every muscle in his body to attack or flee. However, as he reaches for his sword, the faceless black corpse lunges forward and tackles him to ground.

    ¡°Atticus!¡± Veros, who had the time to back off and prepare for a fight, runs in to attempt to save his comrade, but other corpses lunge at him to prevent that, and the fight begins.

    Royd is quick to dismount his horse and start wildly swinging his massive axe at anything that isn''t properly alive, and Erik starts to loose arrows as quickly as his arms can move while his horse slowly backs away from the approaching undead. Whenever the charred cadavers take a fatal blow, they simply crumble to dark dust where they stand. Atticus struggles to keep the one flailing undead who jumped him away, fighting it off with one arm while trying to crawl backwards.

    ¡°Spherus Infernum!¡± A high-pitched shout is heard from behind the knight, and suddenly the blackened corpse he is fighting off explodes in a fiery pop. He looks at the source of the fireball and sees Zyra, pointing her open palm forward. He silently sends his gratitude and wastes no time in standing back up and readying his shield and sword for a fight. Some of the undead reach Kellar, who is still sitting on his alarmed horse''s back.

    ¡°Fuck off, ya damned corpses!¡± He yells as they attempt to get firm hold of his legs, but he takes his daggers and stabs them directly in the head as his steed thrashes around.

    One of the undead manages to wrap their arms around Royd, but the bulky warrior is far too strong for it, shaking its grasp off with little effort, and returning the favor with a swift swipe to the neck with his axe, cleanly removing its head from its shoulders. Atticus and Veros defend themselves just as well, utilizing their shields for defensive bashing, then following up with a single, well-aimed swing of their swords that causes the corpses to fall into piles of coarse, black sand. Before long, the Mistwalkers overtake the entities as the last one is killed by a precise arrow to the head by Erik. The fight lasted no more than a single minute, but the six are left exhausted, especially Atticus, Veros, and Royd.

    ¡°Is that it?! Are they dead?!¡± Royd yells, trying to catch his breath, but still in a fighting stance, ready to continue if need be. Atticus, with his shield still raised, walks up to a pile to ash that used to be one of the undead, and kicks it into the air. Nothing happens; it doesn''t take a new form.

    ¡°I think they''re dead for good.¡± The knight responds.

    ¡°Either way, I think we''ve overstayed our welcome enough. We''re leaving.¡± Veros gives immediate orders to depart, and no one disagrees. The three warriors on foot retrieve their horses, mount them, and they all quickly ride to Legarthat''s northern exit without saying a word or looking back.

    After the group is about a mile past the village''s borders, Veros, who is up front, raises his hand and gives the signal for the others to finally slow down so they can collect themselves.

    ¡°Is everyone alright?¡± He asks.

    ¡°Physically, yes.¡± Kellar answers, snarkily but honestly. The others follow with affirming nods and dispirited grunts.

    ¡°I don''t suppose all of that was a side effect to the ritual?¡± Veros attempts to ease the mood with some dark humor, though part of him is genuinely curious.

    ¡°Not from what I''ve read.¡± Erik responds rather bluntly.

    ¡°If this only scratches the surface of what this mist is capable of, I don''t know if I want find out what kind of shape Armasstadt must be in.¡± Kellar freely expresses his newfound reluctance to continue with the journey.

    ¡°Well, at least they weren''t too tough.¡± Royd tries to spin a positive outlook on the encounter. ¡°By the way, do you think those creatures would count at ''unique conquests'' we were told about back at Zenith Gate?¡±

    ¡°Are you fuckin'' thick, man?¡± Kellar harshly shoots down whatever plan the big fighter is considering. ¡°They count unique conquests judgin'' by how big you can prove it was. Those were just normal humans. Besides, what the hell are you gonna bring back? Gonna show ''em a little bottle of ash? They''ll think you''re mad.¡±

    ¡°I''m just throwing out some ideas to make some more coin. Those foul beings were the most ''unique'' things we''ve seen out here besides the usual limping corpses.¡±

    ¡°We''re still not even halfway to Armasstadt.¡± Veros interjects. ¡°We may have a possibility of encoutering something truly horrific.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate the reassurance.¡± Kellar sardonically responds.

    Atticus and Zyra are at the very rear of the group, both quiet since leaving Legarthat. The knight leans a bit towards the pyromancer to speak to her.

    ¡°Thank you for saving me back there.¡± He voices his gratitude in a modest tone.

    ¡°Oh. It was nothing.¡± Zyra, not expecting a thank you, humbly ¨C and a bit nervously ¨C shakes her head. ¡°I would''ve done it sooner, but I still can''t build up my concentration in an instant like I should.¡±

    ¡°Either way, I appreciate it.¡± Atticus still gives his earnest thanks.

    ¡°Yeah, well, I can''t have my instructor turn into corpse food before I''ve finished using him.¡± Zyra, feeling the atmosphere to be a bit too formal, suddenly cracks a joke.

    ¡°It would indeed be irresponsible of me to let that happen.¡± The knight voices agreement as a true, unabashed smile crosses his face. The mage freezes for a moment, realizing it was the first one she had seen him make since meeting him, and it feels like it might be the first sincere one he''s made in a long time.

 VIII. For Answers (Section 1)

    It''s been several hours after the Legarthat incident, and the day''s journey has been quite peaceful since ¨C as peaceful as what could be allowed on this side of the barrier, almost 150 miles deep into the misted region. The group has yet to run into anymore undead, and are simply making their way to the next checkpoint, one step at a time. At the front of the traveling team are Veros and Erik, with the others trailing behind in pairs about twenty feet apart.

    ¡°I''ve been wondering ever since Legarthat.¡± Veros suddenly speaks in a low volume, leaning a bit towards Erik. ¡°You said it was a sacrificial ritual that caused the mess we saw, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Erik responds, equally quietly, with a nod. ¡°Aldrua.¡±

    ¡°And as a sacrificial ritual, it was religious in nature, right?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°So which god are the sacrifices for?¡±

    ¡°Zerruth.¡± Erik says after a sharp, long inhale. ¡°The old god of death. The king and clergy back then had to denounce him in order to get the people to stop doing sacrificial rituals.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Veros only grunts, both interested, but just as confused as he was before he started talking.

    ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± Erik inquires. ¡°Do you have an idea about those sacrificed undead we saw?¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily.¡± The team leader admits with a slight shake of his head. ¡°I''m trying to piece together whether or not the ritual in Legarthat is related to the dead monks we saw yesterday.¡±

    ¡°I can see your train of thought on that.¡± Erik agrees with the idea initially, but a tinge of doubt seeps onto his expression. ¡°But it''s highly unlikely monks from Evatica today have any sort of connection with Zerruth.¡± Erik furrows his brow and narrows his eyes for a moment before another important thought crosses his mind. ¡°Although, monks would be the only other ones who would know what Aldrua is, outside of educated nobles who read history books. There aren''t many of the latter, honestly.¡±

    ¡°The other problem is the fact that those monks were likely dead for months; since immediately after the mist appeared, I''m sure. It''s doubtful that those ritual victims were that old.¡±

    ¡°Whether they''re related to each other or not, they''re certainly strange, and could hint at another danger to be aware of here.¡±

    ¡°I know we''re not out here to solve riddles.¡± Veros continues with a sigh. ¡°But it''s just too strange for me to ignore. Yet it''s also too dangerous to get sidetracked just to find answers for these things that aren''t even related to our mission.¡±

    ¡°Stuck between a rock and a hard place.¡± Erik expresses his sympathies for Veros''s internal problems.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Veros silently lets himself be pulled into a hole of endless speculation.

    Behind them, Royd and Kellar are following. The brawny warrior is in the middle of taking a gigantic, juicy bite out of his third consecutive apple, and showing little signs of passing up a fourth when he''s done with it. The loud, crunchy chewing eventually gets the better of his comrade.

    ¡°Don''t you know how to chew with your damn mouth closed?¡± The bald rogue gripes.

    ¡°My bites are too big sometimes.¡± Royd answers after an audible gulp.

    ¡°Well then take smaller bites.¡± Kellar changes his complaint into a lecture. ¡°It''d be really pathetic if a fella as big as you died from chokin'' on an apple out here instead of in a fight.¡±

    ¡°You have a point there.¡± The big man admits, but that doesn''t stop him from taking another, equally large bite anyway. Halfway through his chewing, when there''s enough room in his mouth to push out words that are intelligible, he speaks again. ¡°I''ve got a question for ya.¡±

    ¡°Oh? And what''s that?¡± Kellar replies with an aggressive snap to his tone.

    ¡°Why do you need to loot so badly?¡± Royd asks with his mouth momentarily food-free.

    ¡°Asking that again?¡± Kellar is resistant to give a straight answer, but his tone is a bit more docile than it was a second ago. ¡°Do I need a reason to want money?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes.¡± Royd, taking the question quite literally, responds while tossing the apple core to the side of the road. ¡°Wanting money means you have something you intend to spend it on, does it not?¡±

    ¡°Look, buddy.¡± Kellar begins to retort with a wag of his finger directed at his teammate. ¡°My finances aren''t important, alright?¡±

    ¡°I should also mention that the word you used back in Legarthat was ''need'', not ''want''.¡± Royd continues to egg his comrade on while simultaneously reaching for a fourth apple in his bag, as expected. ¡°I''m not going to judge you. I''m only curious.¡±

    ¡°Well, you''re fuckin'' perceptive when you want to be.¡± Kellar gripes under his breath. ¡°Let''s just say it''s property-related, alright?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°You''re gonna lose your house or some such?¡± Royd asks with yet another mouthful of apple.

    Kellar sighs. ¡°Somethin'' like that.¡± He closes off the conversation with another vague comment.

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± The big woodcutter accepts the half-hearted answer between bites.

    Before long, the sun is beginning to set, and due to the nature of the mist becoming thicker as they progress, it''s slightly darker now than it was yesterday at the same time. Luckily, before visibility becomes dangerously low, they reach the third checkpoint on their route: Checkpoint Tenumbur. Despite the dangerous fight in Legarthat earlier in the day, the group was fortunate to not come across any undead wandering the roads afterward.

    As they enter Tenumbur, they follow the usual procedure they''ve already grown used to when staying at checkpoints: showing cards to the soldiers guarding the gate and getting said cards stamped at headquarters after hitching the horses. In a mission as dangerous as wandering into the unknown fog that covers a massive area of the country, it''s this short but tedious routine that allows them to feel as ease. However, a pattern has been noticed as they finish their errands: that not only does the mist become thicker and visibility becomes worse as they delve further into the grey abyss, but checkpoints also seem emptier than the ones before. Not only are there fewer Mistwalkers at Tenumbur compared to Eowerth and Aethen, but there''s also fewer Legion soldiers either on guard or out patrolling.

    The most welcome part of their daily checkpoint procedure is eating dinner in the dining hall. Sadly, the variety and quantity of food available to them follows the same pattern of degradation as the number of checkpoint inhabitants do, much to their annoyance ¨C especially Royd''s. Though that isn''t to say there isn''t enough to fill them up or not adequately prepare them for the next day. They pick their meal and sit together at the end of a table near the center of the room.

    ¡°Such a damn shame there''s no sirloin here.¡± Royd voices his complaints and poutfully slumps his shoulders despite an obviously full plate.

    ¡°Just count your blessin''s and eat.¡± Kellar remarks.

    There''s a short pause among them as they quietly eat their meals, but Veros has a troubled expression on his face, and consumes his food at only a fraction of the pace as the others. He looks around the dining hall to the other people inside: only four soldiers at one table, and two Mistwalkers at another.

    ¡°When we''re done eating, you all can go set up your tents.¡± Veros speaks. ¡°I want to ask some of the other people around about the area ¨C specifically if they''ve seen other dead monks around or those burnt undead.¡±

    ¡°The monk thing could be a coincidence, couldn''t it?¡± Kellar asks. ¡°Don''t members of the monastery in Evatica travel up to Armasstadt on the regular? Maybe they went at a bad time.¡±

    ¡°Every couple years, yes.¡± Veros answers, but still isn''t certain of the nature of the monks'' presence in the mist. ¡°Something just doesn''t sit right with me. And in the case of those charred undead, it''d be nice to know if they''re common or not.¡±

    ¡°I suppose.¡± Kellar gives a non-committal shrug, agreeing with the team leader, though he doesn''t seem nearly as invested in the idea.

    Not long after, their meal is complete and the second half of their daily checkpoint procedure begins: setting up tents and laying out bedrolls. The five of them set up camp for the night in the usual cluster, making sure no one is too far from anyone else. The men also shed their armor and change into their more relaxing cotton clothes. At the behest of Zyra, she and Atticus wander to the far side of the checkpoint border in order to practice her pyromancy without disturbing anyone around them.

    ¡°Combustra!¡± The pyromancer shouts with confidence and gusto, and as expected, a large, near-blinding flame emerges from her fingertip for a second before vanishing as quickly as it came.

    ¡°You''ve cut your casting time down a lot in only a day.¡± Atticus gives praise to her improvement. ¡°By about half, I''d say. You''re doing good.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Zyra says with an embarrassed half-smile. ¡°You were really right about how one''s state of mind affects their casting. The university puts more emphasis on the incantation and hand form. It''s not really enough for someone who has a mental block like I do.¡±

    ¡°That''s the polar opposite of what we''re taught in Threcia.¡± Atticus reminisces of his days studying pyromancy. ¡°We''re told that first and foremost, your state mind has the most influence on your ability to cast and is the thing we should master before anything else.¡±

    ¡°So...¡± The mage suddenly sounds mischievous as she caresses her bracelet. ¡°Does that mean that if I give you my bracelet, you''d be able to cast just fine?¡±

    ¡°It''s been several years...¡± The knight, surprised at the invitation, shows some reluctance, but still considers it. ¡°But I might.¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± Zyra promptly unlocks her bracelet, where a visible print on the skin of her right wrist is left in its place, and hands it to Atticus. ¡°I want to see you cast.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± The de facto pyromancy teacher concedes after a sigh, and slips the bracelet onto his left wrist. ¡°I can''t guarantee anything.¡±

    Zyra smiles with unbridled anticipation as the out-of-practice former pyromancer prepares himself for his first cast in years. At first, he simply collects himself, calmly standing still, eyes closed, ignoring all of his surroundings. He slowly picks up his left hand, palm facing down, extending his index finger and thumb forward; intending to cast Combustion, just as Zyra has been doing.

    He stares at his hand with intense, narrowed eyes. His breaths are deep and heavy, and jaw is clenched. The moment stretches out longer than the hopeful Zyra expected, and now her eyes slowly start to show worry instead of expectancy. She considers opening her mouth to rescind her request, but suddenly, an intense flame finally pours from Atticus''s fingertip, just as hot and large as the one Zyra was able to conjure, if not hotter and larger. In that instant, her growing regret quickly transforms into awe. As the spell is designed to do, the flame disperses after only a second of existing. The knight lets go of a long, exhausted sigh.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± He says while removing the bracelet. ¡°It took longer than I wanted to cast. Guess I should learn from my own lessons.¡±

    ¡°No...¡± Zyra shakes her head timidly while accepting the bracelet back. ¡°That was great. You even did a silent incantation, which I wasn''t expecting. I know you said it''s been years, but you really could''ve fooled me.¡±

    ¡°I wasn''t exaggerating when I said state of mind was the first thing we learned to master in Threcia. It was more or less beaten into our heads. Sometimes literally.¡± Atticus says while wiping the dampness away from his forehead that had collected while he was attempting to cast.

    ¡°Sounds like I need to move to Threcia.¡± The pyromancer says with a smile as she reequips her bracelet. ¡°Maybe after all of this is over, I''ll go there. I''m sure I''ll learn something.¡±

    There''s a pause between them after she says that, as if she expects a specific reply. Atticus is aware of it, but he struggles at the thought of giving her a response she probably wants to hear, as it probably isn''t an honest one on his part.

 VIII. For Answers (Section 2)

    Meanwhile, Veros is still in the dining hall, already in the middle of a conversation with the two other Mistwalkers he saw during dinner, who seem to be unsure of how seriously to take his words about the encounter in Legarthat.

    ¡°You''re saying you were attacked by undead who were burned to death?¡± The first of the two Mistwalkers ¨C an atheltic-looking fellow with short blonde hair and short beard ¨C asks.

    ¡°Right.¡± Veros says with a firm nod. ¡°They were completely charred ¨C impossible to tell what they looked like while they were alive.¡±

    ¡°And they still got up and attacked?¡± The second Mistwalker ¨C a man of slim build and long black hair tied in ponytail ¨C inquires.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Veros nods again. ¡°You''re sure you''ve heard about nothing of the sort? You two didn''t go through Legarthat, right?¡±

    The two other men simply look at each other, dumbfounded. ¡°No, we came from the west because we went around Tumarda River and Lake Hyperion.¡± The first shakes his head. ¡°It''s not that I think you''re lying ¨C I''m sure that shit is possible thanks to this mist, but that hasn''t happened to anyone else I''ve talked to. What''s your name again?¡±

    ¡°Veros.¡±

    ¡°I''m Ewan.¡± The first Mistwalker introduces himself. ¡°This is Seth, my younger brother. You said these burnt undead were at Legarthat, right?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but they wouldn''t be there now.¡± Veros explains with a slightly strained expression, as though he''s aware he may be coming off as difficult to believe. ¡°After we killed them, they simply turned to ash.¡±

    ¡°What direction did you lot come from?¡± Seth asks.

    ¡°We came from the south. From Zenith Gate.¡±

    ¡°Have you been along the eastern route at all?¡±

    ¡°No, we took a straight path from there to here.¡±

    ¡°Damn.¡± Seth curses under his breath. ¡°I was hoping you came from the east.¡±

    ¡°Why''s that?¡±

    ¡°We''re from Yulestead, about a hundred miles east of here.¡± Ewan answers. ¡°We''re heading back there to see what''s left of it.¡±

    ¡°Did you two escape as the mist began spreading?¡± Veros wonders.

    ¡°No. We left Yulestead about a year ago. Our cousin bought some farm land closer to Evatica, and invited us out there to work with him, make some money. We had no real reason to say no.¡±

    ¡°We would''ve came sooner.¡± Seth interjects. ¡°But we didn''t know how dangerous is was, so we decided to wait and see if the Legion could do anything. But as you can see, they couldn''t do a damn thing outside of setting up these checkpoints, so we got impatient.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Veros is a bit curious as to what it is they''re looking for specifically, but ultimately decides not to pry, and changes the subject. ¡°Have either of you visited Armasstadt before you left for your cousin''s farm? Do you know of any event there that might be related to the mist?¡±

    ¡°No way.¡± Ewan shakes his head with fervor. ¡°We haven''t been up there in fifteen years, since the coronation of Archduke Westshire. We have about as much of an idea of what went on over there as you do.¡±

    ¡°Well, there were those rumors about the Archduke before we left Yulestead.¡± Seth speaks up. ¡°Remember? Apparently Westshire was refusing to leave his keep for some reason, starting almost a year before the mist showed up.¡±

    ¡°How the hell is that related to this plague?¡± Ewan speaks in a scolding tone.

    ¡°I just thought it was worth bringing up.¡±

    ¡°Have either of you encountered any undead wearing religious clothing?¡± Veros continues his questions, paying no mind to the budding sibling squabble.

    ¡°You mean like monks?¡± Ewan asks for clarification.

    ¡°Monks, squires, anything of the sort.¡±

    ¡°Actually, we didn''t see any of them personally, but we heard a guy talk about something like that over at Checkpoint Evansward a couple days ago.¡± The elder sibling recalls. ¡°Said he found a body in blue monastery robes near Aethelburg ¨C way out west, near the coast.¡±

    Veros''s eyes widen a bit at the news. Blue robes likely mean another monk, which means there''s a confirmed minimum of three on this side of the barrier, yet the monastery at Evatica made no news of this. Furthermore, the third was incredibly far away from the first two, out near the west coast. It''s possible it could''ve wandered there in the many days the mist has been around, but there''s a chance it could be there on purpose due to the monk being discovered at Aethelburg, which is one of the larger towns of the region. Veros tries to process all of this information and all possible meanings, both coincidental or purposeful, but at the end of the day, there''s still more questions than answers.

    ¡°Did you see any?¡± The younger sibling asks.

    ¡°Sorry?¡± Veros snaps out of his trance.

    ¡°Did you see any undead wearing monastery robes?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°We did, actually ¨C two of them. About sixty miles south.¡± Veros answers, half-invested in the conversation, and half-way still stuck in his thoughts.

    ¡°That''s odd.¡± Ewan chimes in. ¡°You''d think the clergy would make a bit of noise about three of their boys being dead over here.¡±

    ¡°Guess they don''t want people to start freaking out in Evatica.¡± Seth hypothesizes. ¡°People are already worried about the mist. Don''t need to add more wood to that fire.¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡±

    ¡°Well, that''s all I wanted to ask about.¡± Veros wraps up the discussion and begins to excuse himself from the table. ¡°We''re going in different directions, so I don''t know if we''ll meet again, but I hope you both find what you''re looking for in Yulestead.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yeah, cheers, friend.¡± Ewan raises his near-empty cup of mead. ¡°I hope you and your lot make it out in one piece.¡±

    ¡°Have a good one, mate.¡± Seth bids farewell, too. Veros gives one more polite nod before leaving the dining hall.

    As the team captain was conversing with fellow Mistwalkers, the trio of Royd, Kellar, and Erik were casually resting by a small bonfire they built in front of their tents. They stare blankly at the flame, with Royd lethargically making marks in the dirt with a random stick he found earlier. All of the men are obviously quite bored, but also not tired enough to call it a night just yet.

    ¡°Say, Erik.¡± Kellar abruptly speaks up with a very slight glint of curiosity in his eye. ¡°I was wonderin'' how you knew about that ritual we saw back in Legarthat. You said very few people knew about it, so how do you know?¡±

    ¡°My father owns the Bebbenborrow Memorial Library in Evatica.¡± Erik responds matter-of-factly. ¡°I''ve spent a lot of time reading there. Some of the books cover religious history. That''s where I learned about it.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Kellar wasn''t expecting such a straightforward answer, but accepts it with no hesitation. ¡°Fair enough. I guess that means you come from a pretty well-off family then, yeah?¡±

    ¡°You can say that.¡±

    ¡°So why are you here?¡± The curious glint in Kellar''s eyes returns in an instant. ¡°Why is a noble''s son riskin'' his life out here? You could be eatin'' a big dinner in the comfort of your own home right now, but you''re campin'' in the dirt and mud, with the loomin'' dangers of the undead that could end your life in a snap. What gives?¡±

    Royd quietly and timidly looks up with raised eyebrows between this two teammates, clearly interested in where this conversation goes, though he still unwittingly continues to doodle in the dirt.

    ¡°No real reason.¡± Erik begins his modest explanation with a straight face, staring blankly into the red and orange glow of the fire. ¡°My older brother is going to be inheriting most of the properties my father owns, including the library I spent all of my free time in that he never really cared about. The only real hobby that I have is my bow and archery competitions, but even they aren''t always so fulfilling.¡±

    ¡°So you''re bored?¡± Kellar, puzzled, tries to parse a simpler summary out of Erik''s words.

    ¡°Not necessarily bored.¡± Erik shakes his head slightly. ¡°I feel like I''m looking for something, but I don''t know what it is.¡±

    ¡°So you''re just soul searchin''?¡± The bald rogue looks even more confused than earlier. ¡°You couldn''t have done it in a more safe way that doesn''t involve possibly gettin'' ripped apart by walkin'' corpses?¡±

    ¡°Well, for some reason, I don''t particularly care about self-preservation.¡± Erik elaborates with a wry smile. ¡°So I figured I''d put myself to use by helping the people of Yhordran.¡±

    Kellar stares at Erik for a moment, unsure of what to make of him. He''s almost in complete disbelief that someone would throw themselves into an abyss of unknown dangers on a whim like this, without any sort of need to do it ¨C financial or otherwise. After a pensive moment, he just scoffs.

    ¡°Guy''s out here lookin'' for himself.¡± He gripes facetiously under his breath. ¡°And he''s got a death wish about it too. Fuckin'' nobles.¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Erik continues with a half-smile. ¡°I guess if I had to be more specific, I''d say I want to find a way to be my own person and create my own influence without the help of my family''s name or income. I don''t want to just be known as the ''second Rocheford son'' my whole life. I want to find my own calling and create a legacy out of it.¡±

    ¡°Well, you shoulda just said that before!¡± Kellar, shrugging exaggeratedly, gripes even more. ¡°You didn''t need to get all existential. Goodness fuckin'' gracious.¡±

    Erik can''t help but chuckle. ¡°Sorry. I just wanted to sound interesting.¡± The archer admits. Royd, who has been listening in, laughs under his breath too. As their conversation comes to a close, Veros finally returns from his talks with the other Mistwalkers. He joins the three men in sitting around the fire.

    ¡°Well?¡± Kellar starts. ¡°Did they say anything useful?¡±

    ¡°A bit.¡± Veros answers with a nod. ¡°Apparently there was another undead monk found out west, at Aethelburg.¡±

    ¡°Aethelburg, huh? That''s way out there.¡± Kellar leans forward with intent. ¡°You''re not planning on having us go there, are you?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Veros answers immediately. ¡°I still intend to go straight to Armasstadt. Aethelburg would be a six-day trip, at least. It''s too far out of our way.¡±

    ¡°Did they see any other hints of Aldrua being performed elsewhere?¡± Erik interrupts with his own question pertaining to the ritual.

    ¡°No.¡± Veros shakes his head. ¡°They seemed hesitant to believe me when I described the encounter in Legarthat.¡±

    ¡°I don''t blame ''em.¡± Kellar comments. ¡°I was right there in the middle of the action and even I still can''t believe it happened. Charred bodies, burnt to a crisp, just standin'' up and chargin'' at us. Then turning into ash after we kill ''em. It''s odd, even by the standards of what we''ve seen so far.¡±

    ¡°Just goes to show that any corpse we see that''s still in one piece could still be deadly.¡± Royd chimes in with a bit of wisdom to keep in mind for the future. ¡°We''ll have to keep our guard up even more from now on.¡±

    ¡°So what''s our plan for tomorrow?¡± Kellar asks. ¡°What do we expect?¡±

    ¡°According to the map,¡± Veros begins, ¡°there''s no villages or towns between this checkpoint and the next. Just some farms, few and far between.¡±

    ¡°That''s good. I think.¡± Kellar contorts his face a bit, remembering that he thought Legarthat would be a quick and easy passage, too. He considers it''s probably best to just assume the worst from now on.

    The four men return to staring at the mesmerizing flame of their bonfire. Veros especially has many thoughts spinning in his head about the dead monks, the sacrificial ritual, and the clergy in general. As a man of strong convictions, he feels like he''s morally obligated to search for answers if no one else will. However, he doesn''t want to butt heads with the promise he''s made his comrades about going straight for Armasstadt. He quietly resolves to simply cross his fingers and hope that he can discover more clues along the way.

    ¡°By the way.¡± Royd suddenly breaks the somber silence. ¡°Is there a pond or lake on our route?

    ¡°Uh, I think there is a pond somewhere near the next checkpoint.¡± Veros answer, perplexed at the question. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I''d really like a bath.¡± Royd responds, with an expression of deep longing.

    ¡°You know what?¡± Kellar speaks up too, hanging his head to sniff his own armpit. ¡°Same here.¡± His face twists slightly in disgust at his own strong musk.

    Veros and Erik quietly nod in agreement. After several days of traveling to and through the misted region, they undoubtedly would enjoy a chance to sit in a body of water and cleanse themselves. Until the moment comes, they''ll simply have to take their quest one grimy day at a time.

 IX. Massacre (Section 1)

    The next morning, when the sun is as fresh as it could possibly be allowed through the increasing density of the grey mist, the group departs Checkpoint Tenumbur, and proceeds northward. Several things weight heavy on their minds as they leave, including the fact that the thicker miasma continues to shorten their visibility and length of day, and that the next checkpoint is the last on their journey. The second half of their quest to reach Armasstadt ¨C which will be significantly more dangerous than the first half if rumors are to be believed ¨C will be without any assistance or shelter offered by the Legion. The sensation of impending doom will become stronger from here on out, and their mental fortitude will be pushed to their absolute limits.

    Though the company anticipates no real obstacles on the day''s trip, the impenetrable colorless fog still succeeds at forcing a palpably oppressive atmosphere as it has been since they crossed the barrier. As always, they travel in silence, with their eyes peeled and senses alert, with only the sound of the horses'' feet crushing the dirt beneath them at a regular beat. It is a grim contrast to mildly jovial attitudes they possessed mere hours ago, as they''ve quickly grown accustomed to the daily procedures of checking into the Legion checkpoints, but still have yet to feel secure in the time between them. The walls of Armasstadt grow closer by the second, and a tiny voice in each of them questions what''s within them.

    Before long, the team comes across the first large plot of farmland on the day''s route. As expected, the crops have rotted beyond recognition, and the soil is now dry and nutritionless after months of abandonment. It begs the question whether it would even be possible to utilize this land for farming again even after the mist disappears ¨C if the mist disappears. A tinge of the accompanying foul smell still hanging in the air for the group to disdainfully inhale. Kellar''s face twists with disgust at the mild fumes, and Royd''s only bares a strong expression of a disappointment at the state of the land.

    ¡°What a stench.¡± Kellar is the first break the silence that''s been present for some time now. ¡°We''ve passed some farms before, but none this huge. The smell is definitely noticeable now.¡±

    ¡°A terrible waste to see such a prosperous farm be turned into... this.¡± Royd adds on. ¡°Hopefully this area won''t stay barren forever.¡±

    At the pace the group is going, they eventually grow accustomed to the odor before they escape it. Off the side of the road, the farmer''s home can be spotted at the very edge of visibility, and it''s as every bit as dilapidated as any of the buildings seen before. Kellar examines it for an extended moment, considering veering off from the group to search for valuables, but memories of yesterday''s failures ultimately convince him to turn away. He still thinks they''re too far south to find anything worthwhile. He still wants to venture further north, where it''s less likely average riff-raff have made it far enough to loot.

    After passing many acres of lifeless farmland, Veros, who is at the front of the party like always, suddenly holds his hand up to signal the group to come to a stop. Atticus, who is following immediately behind, approaches him.

    ¡°What''s wrong?¡± The knight asks.

    ¡°Up ahead.¡± Veros repsonds, with his eyes narrowed suspiciously towards the northward road. ¡°I think an undead is coming.¡±

    Atticus looks ahead, and squints his eyes as he examines the nigh-impenetrable wall of grey that veils anything beyond it. Soon, he makes out a dark silhouette, vaguely human-shaped. It draws nearer very, very slowly, but its figure soon becomes more clear. It seems to be a limping undead, and it appears to be alone.

    ¡°Just one, it looks like.¡± The black-clad knight comments.

    ¡°I''ll take care of it.¡± Veros responds with confidence, then urges his horse forward, ready to terminate the wandering corpse without even dismounting.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Is someone there?¡± A faint, weak voice suddenly calls out, forcing Veros to stop his horse after only a few steps.

    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Kellar speaks up.

    ¡°They''re not undead.¡± Veros responds, wide-eyed and realizing that the silhouette belongs to someone who is still among the living. ¡°Let''s see if we can offer some assistance.¡± He beckons the rest of the group to follow as he rushes his horse to approach the survivor.

    ¡°Please, help me!¡± The voice becomes clearer as the team draws closer. Finally, the fog clears completely and they can see a man with an injured right leg. He''s clearly suffered a beating, as multiple bruises and scrapes cover his body and his leather armor is stained with blood, sourced from both exterior and interior places. His thinly bearded face is also dirtied with a mix of soil and grime, and his eyes are reddened and glossy. His expression bares a look of strong desperation.

    ¡°What''s wrong?¡± Veros immediately inquires.

    ¡°My band was attacked ¨C ambushed ¨C down the road.¡± The unknown survivor points northward. ¡°I''ve been dragging myself and this limp leg for about three miles trying to find someone to help me.¡±

    Veros dismounts and retrieves a large, red apple from his bag that be took from Checkpoint Tenumbur, and offers it to the unknown Mistwalker.

    ¡°Here, eat this and take a load off.¡± Veros insists. The injured survivor is deeply relieved by the gesture, and eagerly accepts the food.

    ¡°Thank the Gods for you, sir. You''re a kind soul.¡± The man wastes no time in sitting on the dirt to rest and take a massive bite into the fruit. Veros kneels next to him.

    ¡°So, what exactly happened?¡± He asks softly, with patience. ¡°And what''s your name?¡±

    ¡°My name''s Egart, sir.¡± The man catches a breath between his large bites to answer. ¡°Egart Moorley. I came into the mist with a group of others I met back at Zenith Gate.¡±

    ¡°They''re the ones who were attacked?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Egart nods multiple times. ¡°We left Checkpoint Rosemont earlier today to make our way back to the barrier, and some... massive thing attacked us out of nowhere.¡± The survivor''s voice cracks slightly as he recalls the incident.

    ¡°What was it, friend? The thing that attacked you?¡± Veros gently presses for more details.

    ¡°Some... giant warrior in white and gold armor. He stood at least eight feet tall.¡± The panicked Mistwalker begins to describe his team''s assailant. ¡°He wielded a large halberd with a long, thick blade.¡±

    ¡°Was he undead?¡± Veros asks for more details, unsure of what to make of the things he''s heard thus far.

    ¡°Aye, I''m quite sure he was.¡± Egart nods several times again. ¡°His skin was a greenish grey, and his eyes were yellow. But he was so much bigger than any of the undead we''ve seen. He had the strength of ten men!¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Veros utters. ¡°Here, continue eating.¡± He offers the scared survivor another apple. Uncertain of how seriously to take these claims, the team leader looks around at the rest of the group, still perched on their horses. They all wear expressions of mixed confusion and reluctance. A giant warrior undead? With the strength of ten men? In white and gold armor? They''ve made it so far into the misty region, and they''ve never heard any tales such as this. Is it possible for the mist to create such a horrific being?

    ¡°What the hell kind of monster is he speakin'' of?¡± Kellar asks in bewilderment.

    ¡°I think I might have an idea.¡± Veros replies. ¡°The detail that got my attention was the white and gold armor, and the halberd.¡±

    ¡°Who owns such equipment?¡± Atticus inquires.

    ¡°Oh, shit...¡± Kellar interjects after being struck with a realization. ¡°The monastery knights.¡±

    ¡°Yes, precisely.¡± Veros confirms with a nod. ¡°Remember when we found the dead monks? I mentioned that they usually travel with an entourage of squires and knights, too. It must be one of them.¡±

    ¡°Are monastery knights usually over eight feet tall, though?¡± Royd asks, half jokingly, half seriously.

    ¡°No, definitely not.¡± Veros becomes visibly less confident in his hypothesis. ¡°But we can''t put it past the mist to transform them in some way, considering how little we know of it.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Kellar responds. ¡°But aren''t undead usually just mindless, limpin'' corpses? Why''s the mist makin'' this random knight all huge, then?¡±

    ¡°I couldn''t even begin to guess.¡± The unsure captain shakes his head. ¡°Either way, there''s no reason for Egart here to lie to us.¡±

    ¡°Then what are we goin'' to do about it? Fight it?¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Egart frantically speaks up. ¡°You can''t! That thing... It decimated my crew! You won''t last, even if you do have a mage!"

 IX. Massacre (Section 2)

    ¡°We''d rather not waste time going back to Tenumbur and just waiting for this thing to go away.¡± Veros bluntly shuts down the frightened Mistwalker''s ideas of turning around. ¡°We all want to reach Checkpoint Rosemont as soon as possible, and hopefully reach Armasstadt from there.¡±

    ¡°But I''m trying to head back to Tenumbur!¡± Egart continues to plead. ¡°If you all continue forward, I''ll have to limp the next several miles!¡±

    ¡°We can take you back to Rosemont with us.¡± Royd chimes in, offering an idea that''s essentially the opposite of what Egart wishes. ¡°You can heal up there and catch a ride with south with someone. Maybe even the Legion food carts.¡±

    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Egart''s begging continues with increasing desperation. ¡°I was just running from the damn monster, and you all want to take me back to it?¡±

    ¡°You''d rather limp alone for several miles?¡± Royd rebuts.

    ¡°I... Ugh.¡± Egart heaves an extremely long, loud sigh. ¡°Of all the people to find me, why did it have to be ones with a death wish?¡±

    ¡°We won''t force you to go with us.¡± Veros offers some reassurance. ¡°Even if you decide to walk back to Tenumbur alone, we can tell you that we haven''t run into any undead so far, so the path is more or less safe. You should be fine, even if you''re on your own.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± The lone survivor asks, but brings the topic back to the unknown threat to the north. ¡°Look, I don''t know you lot, but you seem nice. Don''t continue north. My group, they were experienced Mistwalkers, but that thing... It came out of nowhere and just tore through them.¡±

    ¡°If we don''t try to dispose of this monster, then who will?¡± Royd interjects with a rather altruistic, if not naively oversimplified viewpoint. ¡°If it''s as strong as you say, then it should be killed before it decimates more Mistwalkers.¡±

    ¡°But you will be the Mistwalkers it decimates!¡± Egart remains persistent in his pleas to keep the group out of danger.

    ¡°Listen.¡± Veros raises his hand to offer an ultimatum regarding the situation. ¡°We can''t split up the group just to send one of us to escort you back to Tenumbur, especially if there''s some monstrosity waiting for us in the north; and we can''t waste the day with all of us escorting you, either. We''re almost half-way to Rosemont. So your choices are: come with us and we''ll take you to Rosemont, or go south to Tenumbur on your own.¡±

    Egart''s face strains with the decision: another fifteen or so miles southward, alone? Or go back north with a new group, almost certain to encounter the beast that destroyed his previous team? He can''t fault them for refusing to split up, and they won''t budge when it comes to moving forward, as they don''t want to waste a day. After a very pensive, extended moment, Egart makes his decision with a strong sigh.

    ¡°I can''t.¡± He says as he hangs his head. ¡°I can''t face that thing again. There''s no way.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Veros replies without any surprise to be found in his voice. ¡°I understand. Before you set off, take this.¡± He offers a backup dagger that he''s yet to use on the journey. ¡°I noticed your scabbard is empty. The way southbound has been clear for us, but we can''t guarantee anything. Best to have some sort of protection.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Egart sullenly accepts the parting gift, still clearly dejected that he''ll be continuing south alone, and with a limp leg.

    ¡°I''m sorry we can''t help you more, but we can''t deviate from our mission.¡± Veros attempts to reassure the depressed survivor by offering one last thing: a peach. ¡°One for the road.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Egart utters, barely audible.

    ¡°Stay safe.¡± Veros bids farewell as he mounts his horse again and looks to the rest of the team. ¡°Let''s go.¡±

    Royd turns to tries to offer some words of encouragement as they walk away. ¡°Don''t worry, Egart. We''ll do something about that beast. Maybe you''ll hear about it later!¡± He maintains a positive disposition, but Egart, still burdened by doubts, doesn''t respond.

    As the distance grows between the group and Egart, Atticus turns around in time to the injured survivor limp southward down the road, his figure eventually veiled by the grey mist, disappearing completely. He silently recalls his encounter with the young Willard Reese back on his first day past the barrier. He can''t help but wonder if the inexperienced young lad made it back to Zenith Gate safely or not. The knight has no way to find out for himself, short of turning around and venturing south, but obviously that''s out of the question. Did he do the right thing for Willard? Should he have offered more help? Was the group doing the right thing for Egart? Ever since he left Threcia, the idea of how a person is able to gauge whether or not they''ve done all they truly could to help another has resurfaced in his head time and time again. Every time he offers his assistance for something, he''s begun to second-guess his own efforts.

    ¡°Will he be alright?¡± A feminine voice interrupts his thoughts. It''s Zyra, who looks just as unsure of Egart''s fate as Atticus does.

    ¡°Hard to say.¡± The knight responds, somewhat coldly, but not on purpose. ¡°It''ll be difficult for him to reach Tenumbur before nightfall.¡±

    ¡°Why couldn''t we have just one of us escort him?¡± The pyromancer wonders aloud.

    ¡°Then afterward, we''d have one of us alone, trying to catch up to the rest. Then what do the rest do? Wait? Or continue ahead into danger with one less person?¡± Atticus bluntly explains the reasoning behind Veros''s choice. ¡°If he didn''t want to come with us, then going back alone is the only option that doesn''t impede our plans.¡±

    ¡°That seems rather harsh.¡± Zyra laments the decision, though doesn''t disagree with the reasoning. ¡°But I guess out here, it''s for the best. We can''t look after every person in distress we come across.¡±

    The young pyromancer hasn''t experienced such cold pragmatism regarding survival in a hostile land before. She feels disappointed in herself, much like Atticus, but also knows that it''s likely best for the group to let Egart go on his own. At the front of the party, Kellar begins to ask Veros of his intentions regarding the supposed eight-foot-tall monastery knight.

    ¡°Are we seriously goin'' to fight it?¡± He bald rogue inquires, in no certain rush to be thrown into danger. ¡°You heard the man. It has the strength of ten men.¡±

    ¡°We can''t just sit around and wait for it to wander out of our way.¡± Veros rejects any budding ideas of staying put and waiting out the threat. ¡°We don''t know how long that would take, nor how many others it would kill in the meantime.¡±

    Kellar lets out a sigh. Out of the entire team, his sense of self-preservation has always been the strongest, as he''s always been the first to ask for a way to avoid confrontations with dangers, though his complaints have grown less fervent. A small voice in his head had always told him to just run back to Zenith Gate, as he isn''t there for fame or to save Yhordran, but to find something valuable to sell. However, he''s ventured too deep to turn back now.

    ¡°He could be exaggerating.¡± Royd suddenly throws in a comment to try and ease Kellar''s worries. ¡°Either way, it must be a hell of a thing to dispose of a whole Mistwalker party, but it might not really be eight feet tall.¡±

    ¡°Is that supposed to make me feel better, you meathead?¡± Kellar fires off at Royd''s poor attempt at boosting morale.

    ¡°I was just saying.¡± Royd shrugs nonchalantly. Kellar just lets out a small groan.

    ¡°Egart said it was only a few miles ahead.¡± Veros, as diligent as ever, reminds everyone to stay on their toes. ¡°It could''ve wandered south, so we might see it sooner rather than later. Keep your eyes open.¡±

    The group quietly complies, keeping their eyes forward with intent, with the occasional glance to the roadsides to keep their surroundings in check. In their attempt to be alert, the intimidating silence rears its ugly head again, making the atmosphere of the area seem more hostile despite the increased awareness of the Mistwalkers. This is the first time they''ve been on active lookout for a possible threat they''ve been told of beforehand, as opposed to being surprised by one they did not know of. For the first time in their journey, their minds are prodded by a tinge of paranoia. They''re ready to jump at suspicious shadows or charge towards strange noises veiled by the grey wall before them, for any could be the monstrosity described by the frantic survivor. The typical, shambling corpses they''re already used to seeing aren''t terribly dangerous individually, but an eight-foot-tall undead knight with the power of ten men is something else entirely.

 IX. Massacre (Section 3)

    The nature of the mist is still hardly understood despite existing for several months. Everyone has grown to accept the fact that it can reanimate the dead, but to transform a man into a heinous, necrotic beast that towers above others? The rumors of the existence of such things have been persistent for some time, but definitive proof has yet to come to light. The ¡°unique conquests¡± system for Mistwalkers was created to accommodate such encounters, but only because the rumors were so prevalent. As the mist becomes denser when one approaches the borders of Armasstadt, could these otherwordly beings show up? Would they appear with as much frequency as the weak, limping cadavers commonly seen closer to the barrier? It''s extremely rare for any Mistwalker, regardless of battle experience or adventurous spirit, to go beyond the imaginary border set by Checkpoint Rosemont.

    After continuing northward for only a few miles in what felt like hours, Veros begins to wonder if the massive undead is still in the area. In a futile attempt to look for clues, he examines the dirt of the road, as if the creature would own some sort of strange footprint to follow or hint at its activity.

    ¡°Ahead.¡± Royd speaks up suddenly, and Veros brings his gaze forward in time to see multiple dark shapes litter the road in front of them, still barely covered by the mist. None of them are in the form of any of sort of eight-foot behemoth.

    As they carefully tread closer, the mist clears and the shapes begin to bare details. It was the remains of what is presumably the band of Mistwalkers that Egart was part of. Almost a dozen mangled bodies ¨C human and horse ¨C cleaved into different pieces are scattered around the road.

    ¡°Oh, Gods!¡± Zyra is utterly aghast at the sight. This is the first time she''s witnessed the gore of a violent battle that goes beyond the tame sight of already dried up undead corpses. She covers her mouth and looks away, as continued staring would be bound to activate her gag reflex.

    Torsos cut in half at the waist and severed limbs are separated by a significant distance from other body parts belonging to the same person, at least at a glance. The blood that seeped from them have yet to totally dry, as visible, dark red stains color numerous spots on the ground.

    ¡°Fuckin'' disgusting.¡± Kellar voices his revulsion at the sight, twisting his face and gulping as if to keep his last meal from coming back up. ¡°This is nothin'' short of a total massacre.¡±

    Kellar and Zyra keep a fair distance from the gruesome site, but the others slowly approach different corpses for further examination. Atticus dismounts Annaliese to get a closer look of a bare severed arm, the hand still clasping a knife. However, his point of focus isn''t that, but rather the severance point.

    ¡°These slices look clean.¡± The knight comments on his observations aloud. ¡°It looks like whatever cut them apart did it in a single, quick swing.¡±

    Veros dismounts his own horse to examine a torso that was split horizontally at the waist. The unknown man''s head is still attached, and sadly, he looks rather young. Veros''s eyes travel down the dead man''s ragged leather armor, which clearly did little to protect him this fight, and looks at the gaping wound that would normally be where his hips were. Ignoring the sight and stench of the poor victim''s entrails bunched up outside of him, Veros looks at the cut flesh itself, which shows no signs of repeated chopping or tearing. Indeed, it appears that whatever blade cleaved the young Mistwalker in half, did so in one heave.

    ¡°I agree.¡± Veros replies after his own examination, covering his mouth and nose afterward to not inhale the foul odor of death.

    ¡°How is such strength even possible?¡± Royd asks, appalled at the thought while staring at the result of the carnage. ¡°Cleaving a man in half with one swing? And what weapon would allow that?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°Monastery halberds have blades long enough for that.¡± Veros answers almost immediately.

    ¡°So it''s true, then?¡± Kellar chimes in, with an expression of dread on his face that he didn''t wear before. ¡°There''s a massive undead monastery knight with the strength of ten men wandering around here?¡±

    The group is immediately struck with momentary paranoia as they look around the slaughter site. There doesn''t seem to be any sort of ambiguous figures hidden in the mist, nor do they hear the sounds of a large beast approaching or leaving.

    ¡°It''s probably not around here anymore.¡± Atticus comments. ¡°We didn''t see it on the way here, so it either wandered north, or off the road entirely.¡±

    ¡°Fuckin'' good.¡± Kellar wastes no time in voicing his relief. ¡°I wasn''t too reluctant to deal with it earlier, but after seein'' the outcome of its last fight, I''d prefer it stay as far from us as possible.¡±

    ¡°What should we do with the bodies on the road?¡± Royd asks, examining the gruesome scene which is essentially a mass grave that happens to be above ground.

    ¡°This is too much of a clean up to bother with.¡± Kellar responds. ¡°I can''t even tell how many people are scattered around in this mess. Six? Seven? Maybe eight? There''s even several horses, too.¡±

    ¡°We should at least look for their cards.¡± Veros states. ¡°Kellar, come down and help.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± Kellar heaves a groan as he dismounts his steed. He walks to the nearest, most complete torso, which still retains an arm and a half, and head, and starts to pat it down with both hands, with his arms as extended as possible to maximize the distance bewteen himself and the freshly dead. ¡°This feels much worse than pattin'' down a corpse that''s been dead for weeks. They barely look human at that point, so I don''t think much of it.¡±

    ¡°Found one.¡± Atticus announces. He reads off the information that the card provides. ¡°Darick Reed. Third outing on the fifth card. Stopped by all of the checkpoints on this route, too.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like one of those fellows who managed to more or less make a livable wage off being a Mistwalker.¡± Royd comments. ¡°They''re always sure to stop at as many checkpoints as they can, but never go past the Rosemont line.¡±

    ¡°I''m sure riskin'' your life every day is somewhat lucrative.¡± Kellar says as he pauses from searching his designated dead body. ¡°But I''d rather come in, find somethin'' valuable to sell, and leave forever. To be frank, I''m already further north than I anticipated being.¡±

    No one pays any real mind to Kellar''s usual venting. He stares at the body next to him, and instead of continuing to search for a card, he just lets out a small sigh.

    ¡°You''d probably still be alive if you did that too, you know?¡± He lectures the dead Mistwalker under his breath.

    Immediately, a ghastly groan is heard without warning. It''s the body next to Kellar, desperately wiggling in a grotesque, mindless manner, extending its arm stiffly as its reanimation process finally kicks in.

    ¡°Fuck''s sake!¡± Kellar exclaims in surprise, falling backwards and out of reach of the body. It continues to let out faint screeches as it helplessly flails its one complete arm around for anything to grab a hold of.

    ¡°Finish it off, Kellar.¡± Veros commands nonchalantly. ¡°Turn him over and drive your knife into the back of its neck.¡±

    ¡°What a day...¡± The rogue continues to mutter his complaints as he carefully follows orders. He walks around to the torso''s handless side, flips it over, and stabs one of his daggers into the back of its neck, severing the brain stem. ¡°Is this the only to make sure they''re dead for certain? Severing the head?¡± He asks to no one in particular.

    ¡°Not sure.¡± Veros answers as he drives his sword into another torso that has its head intact. ¡°But it''s better to be safe than sorry.¡±

    Veros, Atticus, Royd, and Kellar continue to preemptively re-kill the corpses before they have a chance to reanimate while also patting down torsos and legs for Mistwalker indentification cards. It takes a few minutes, but they finish the task soon enough.

    ¡°Five cards.¡± Kellar announces as the looks at them. ¡°Most of these fellas were on their third card at the very least.¡±

    ¡°Well, we''ve done as much as we reasonably can.¡± Veros says with a relieved exhale. ¡°We should continue on before we waste more daylight.¡± He mounts his horse and leads the group past the grisly massacre site. Zyra still can''t contain her disgust at the view and tries to keep her gaze down at her horse''s mane.

 X. Holy Blade (Section 1)

    The Mistwalkers continue to quietly make their way northward. The colorless fog has grown far denser than it was when they first began their journey. Their field of vision then was an approximate four hundred-foot radius. By now, it has shrunk to just under three hundred, and will continue to shrink as they press on. Having failed to see any sign of the presence of the undead brute that decimated Egart''s crew, they''re unsure whether the likelihood of running into it has decreased or not. Kellar in particular is obviously the most on edge about it, as the remains of the slaughter they had just come across doesn''t inspire any confidence in him.

    About two miles after the massacre site, Royd finds his attention drifting, his mind wandering. He''s become less interested in staying alert for the potential threat, and his gaze listlessly flows from one direction to another, eventually pointing towards the cold ground beneath them. The dirt passes below his horse''s hooves with the usual crunch they''ve all grown used to by now, but something strange catches his eye.

    ¡°Hold on a second.¡± The large man announces, stopping the group from continuing.

    ¡°What''s wrong?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°Look.¡± Royd points to the ground below them. ¡°These footprints.¡±

    The others look downward, and are surprised to see very large human footprints on the ground. However, the fact that they''re large isn''t the strangest thing about them. Rather, it''s the fact that they were bare. Whatever made them wasn''t wearing any sort of shoes or boots.

    ¡°What on Earth?¡± Kellar voices his confusion. ¡°You think these belong to the big bastard?¡±

    ¡°There''s no way to know for sure unless we see him.¡± Veros responds, looking northbound down the road, then back at the abnormally large tracks. ¡°But I can''t imagine them belonging to anything else.¡±

    ¡°Where did the prints come from?¡± The rogue inquires again, looking back south, from where they all came. ¡°I was too preoccupied looking into the mist ahead, I didn''t even think to look down.¡±

    ¡°He must''ve wandered off the road initially and came back on later.¡± Atticus hypothesizes aloud and follows the prints with his eyes. ¡°They continue onward now.¡±

    ¡°So what the hell do we do?¡± Kellar asks, becoming increasingly worried now that he knows for sure that the undead beast is somewhere in the vicinity. ¡°Should we deviate from the road and go around the next mile or so?¡±

    ¡°No, that''d be more dangerous that just staying on the road to begin with.¡± Veros shoots down the idea. ¡°Our visibility is just too limited. Worst case, we''d end up right on top of it when we get back on the path.¡±

    ¡°We can''t just sit and wait it out, either.¡± The knight chimes in again. ¡°It might make its way back here. There''s no sure way to avoid confrontation without knowing where its headed right this moment, outside of going extremely far out of way, which would waste daylight.¡±

    ¡°All we know is that it''s somewhere down the road.¡± Veros adds. ¡°But it could be going in any direction right now.¡±

    ¡°Should we send someone to scout ahead?¡± Kellar asks.

    ¡°That would just put them at risk of fighting it alone.¡± Veros shoots down another idea. ¡°This mist doesn''t help much in regard to reconnaissance attempts. I think it''s best if we all stick together, and just proceed forward with caution.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Fuck.¡± Kellar curses under his breath. ¡°We''re just as helpless as we were before we noticed the footprints, then. Damned fog.¡±

    ¡°Should we make any sort of battle plan now, just in case?¡± Royd inquires.

    ¡°It''ll be hard to make a sure-fire one before we even see it.¡± Veros replies, pondering the possibility of surprises in the case of a fight.

    ¡°If we''re going off what we know,¡± Atticus speaks up to begin laying out a plan, ¡°then the monster is armed with a monastery halberd, wearing monastery knight armor, and stands over eight feet tall. I think, generally speaking, Veros and I should be at the front, because we''re the only two with shields.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Veros nods in agreement. ¡°Atticus and I will maintain its attention while being defensive. Royd and Kellar, you two stay behind the beast at all times, and at just enough of a distance away so that its halberd can''t reach you. Every time it takes a failed swing at us, you immediately jump in, attack, and jump back out.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± Royd nods in eager compliance.

    ¡°Shit. Alright.¡± Kellar is far less enthusiastic, but agrees anyway.

    ¡°The four of us should all dismount, too.¡± Atticus adds, gesturing to Annaliese. ¡°Judging by the scene we passed earlier, the beast is not above cutting down our horses, and it''d be extremely bad for our journey if we lost them. We''d be able to maneuver ourselves better while off of them, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Veros nods again, showing no signs of disapproval towards the knight''s tactics thus far. ¡°Erik and Zyra, you two will stay on your horses, and a fair distance back. You''re our only long-range fighters. Keep pelting the monster with arrows and fireballs every time you see an opening.¡±

    ¡°What if it rushes at us?¡± Zyra asks as worry begins to bleed out onto her expression.

    ¡°Atticus and I will try and stay in front of it to prevent that from happening.¡± The team leader states matter-of-factly to reassure the mage. ¡°Just stay at enough of a distance so you can turn your horses and run if it makes it past us. Got it?¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± Erik, the man of few words, gives a strong nod.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Zyra isn''t as confident, but gives her acknowledgment regardless.

    ¡°And the footprints.¡± The knight continues. ¡°If they really belong to the beast, then it must have shed its boots at some point, meaning that his lower legs could be a weak point to potentially exploit. So if anyone has a clear shot at its ankles, or even the back of its knees, take it.¡±

    ¡°I think that covers everything we can cover.¡± Veros ends the deliberation. ¡°Is everyone ready?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd gives a self-assured nod while slightly puffing out his chest in readiness. ¡°I''m ready.¡±

    ¡°I''m not.¡± Kellar groans. ¡°But I never really am, so fuck it.¡±

    ¡°I''ll put these arrows to good use.¡± Erik states, as stone-faced as ever.

    ¡°I''ll do what I can.¡± Zyra announces, still not as certain of her skill or bravery as the others, but also not willing to back down.

    ¡°Good. Let''s go.¡± Veros turns his horse to continue northbound down the road, and the rest follow.

    Though it may mean burning increasingly rare and valuable daylight, they''ve decided to slightly slow their pace while following the large, barefooted prints in the dirt. Now more than ever, they taste the possibility of a dangerous encounter that''s almost guaranteed to happen. Veros and Atticus lead the group as the two who will battle with the foe face-to-face, with Royd and Kellar behind them as the two support fighters who will only partake when an opening presents itself. Erik and Zyra, the two ranged fighters, follow at the rear. There are varying levels of readiness and confidence among them, ranging from the rough-and-tumble Royd, who is almost too eager for a battle despite his inexperience, to the usually reluctant Kellar, who only recently came to terms with the fact that running back south isn''t an option if he wants to accomplish his own goals.

    The young pyromancer feels as though she''s more tense than she should be, as she''s fought undead before. However, the sight of the slaughter they came across some miles back still paints a horrific picture of what could happen to her and her comrades if one crucial mistake is made. This only begins a chain of potential problems for her, as she worries that this nervousness could cripple her ability to cast despite finally learning how conjure flames and fireballs much faster now. There''s also the idea of accidentally hitting one of her teammates, which unsettles her further. She tries to steady her thoughts and her trembling hands by taking slow, deep breaths as the band carefully presses onward.

 X. Holy Blade (Section 2)

    Suspenseful minute after suspenseful minute passes, with each of the six Mistwalkers glaring at the wall of fog ahead, always expecting the undead monster to emerge from it with the speed and ferocity of a demon bursting from the gates of the fiery underworld. Beads of sweat moisten their foreheads, and the tiny hairs on their neck stand to a point. Their slow, measured paces start to defy their perception of time, as each stride starts to feel longer and longer. Kellar begins to grow anxious, not just of the possible beast ahead, but at the suspense itself of anticipating the battle. Royd tightens his grip around his axe, which he has been holding to chest with one hand since discovering the footprints. Atticus and Veros, the two stoic warriors up front, keep their narrowed eyes ahead, refusing to blink, as if the undead would appear in the split second it takes for their eyelids to close and reopen. After a rather short journey that feels like hours, an ambiguous shadow becomes visible beyond the veil of the mist.

    ¡°The fuck''s that?¡± Kellar asks in a shaky whisper.

    ¡°Let''s get closer.¡± Veros responds with equally low volume, and urges his horse forward.

    They tread with the most caution they''ve been able to muster since departing Zenith Gate, practically too tense to even breathe. As they draw nearer to the indistinct silhouette at an almost snail-like pace, the fog begins to clear, the shape becomes visible and distinguishable: an extremely broad back of a massive man kneeling down and hunched over, facing away from the group. Its size is noticeably immense despite not even standing. The shine of gold and white armor reflects the little light reaching the giant beast, though the radiance of the armor itself has been fairly dulled by the dirt, grime, and blood ¨C recently obtained ¨C that''s been collected over who knows how long. Intricate patterns can be seen on the cuirass and pauldrons, and remnants of the ripped cape bares some complex embroidery. The armor is incredibly tight on the monster''s huge frame, indicating that he wasn''t always that large. Its muscles swell painfully under the pressure.

    Closer to the ground, its large, bare feet can be seen. Presumably it removed its boots due to them impeding its movement after its alien growth spurt. The undead''s skin is greenish and grey, clearly necrotic, as all the wandering corpses are. Finally, its halberd, clasped in his right hand, is positioned upright, standing on the end of its shaft. It''s about seven feet long, end to end. The axe blade is much larger and thicker than that of a normal halberd, with the usual hooked blade on back side of the axe. The spiked metal tip makes up about a foot and a half of its total length. Overall, it''s an adequate weapon for thrusting and cleaving at both short and medium ranges if one can handle its weight. Why holy knights of the monastery would require such a frightening-looking weapon is beyond anyone''s guess.

    ¡°Galliford''s beard, that is one hideous monstrosity.¡± Royd utters. ¡°What''s he kneeling for?¡±

    ¡°He looks like...¡± Veros begins to answer. ¡°He looks like he''s kneeling as a monastery knight would normally do when in the presence of someone higher than them.¡±

    ¡°Is someone in front of him?¡± Kellar inquires, trying to shift his weight to try and look around the beast''s frame.

    ¡°I doubt it.¡± Veros answers. ¡°But he''s certainly preoccupied. He hasn''t noticed us.¡±

    ¡°His feet.¡± Royd points at the undead''s exposed lower legs. ¡°Those prints did belong to him.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± The captain responds. ¡°Just as we hoped. We can use that to our advantage.¡±

    ¡°Can''t we just sneak around him if he''s so busy?¡± Kellar offers one last desperate suggestion to avoid a confrontation.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    The giant undead finally budges, and pulls itself to its feet. Now that''s it''s standing, it''s much easier to determine its size, and it is quite certainly over eight feet in height. In fact, it''s likely closer to nine. It turns around to face the group, who are still on the very edge of the visible range allowed by the dense mist. Its ghoulish, decomposing face is mostly obscured by its helmet, and every time it exhales, a repulsive, strained groan is let out.

    ¡°It''s time.¡± Veros announces. ¡°Remember the plan. Erik and Zyra stay back, the rest of us dismount. Atticus and I will keep his attention. Royd and Kellar stay behind him and wait for a chance to strike. Let''s go.¡±

    After his short refresher of the previously discussed battle plan, Veros and Atticus dismount their horses and prepare for a fight with sword and shield in hand. Royd and Kellar soon follow, but keep a fair distance behind them, so as to not interfere with the other duo''s part of maintaining the monster''s aggression on them. The nameless behemoth soon matches their eagerness to fight by taking several steps forward and grasping its halberd in an aggressive stance with the intent to kill. Atticus and Veros ready their shields as they proceed forward, bringing them up to their chests to cover their torsos and part of their face. They show no intent on striking first.

    Once the two warriors are about seven feet in front of the monster, at the very peak of its halberd''s reach, they stop pressing forward, and slowly start to strafe to the side, always keeping the faces of their shield pointed at the giant undead, who is beginning to grow agitated. It swings its head back and forth between the two Mistwalkers, trying to keep both in its field of view. It snarls disgustingly as it clasps its weapon with dire intent to swing. Royd and Kellar are still a ways back, not yet joining the stand-off until the monster''s back faces them. Atticus and Veros''s slow strafing continues they''re on opposite sides of the undead''s position. It grows increasingly impatient with their lack of offense, and decides suddenly to take the initiative by turning to the knight and thrusting the spiked point of its halberd at him. Atticus, instead of taking the force of the thrust head-on, angles his shield to redirect the momentum to the right. Despite that, the strength of the thrust still diminishes his balance momentarily, and the beast follows up with a short-range swing of the axe blade, meant to catch Atticus if he had closed the distance after the deflection. Despite being undead, it still maintains a level of competency in a fight. The knight promptly regains his balance and shouts to his comrades.

    ¡°Be wary of his thrusts!¡± He announces. ¡°They can knock you off your feet even if you block them!¡±

    His teammates quietly take the advice to heart, and Atticus and Veros continue their redirection of the big corpse''s attention away from the others. They eventually make their way around to the northern side of the small section of road they''re on, allowing the monster''s back to face the others.

    ¡°Alright, let''s advance.¡± Royd tells Kellar and quietly proceeds forward. Kellar doesn''t give any verbal acknowledgment, instead sighing and shaking his head before following his burly companion anyway. They stop their advance about ten feet away from the undead, remembering to stay just beyond the reach of its halberd. The huge cadaver notices them, but can''t decide whether to focus on them or the shielded fighters closer to it. It eventually stares at Royd and Kellar for moment, cuing Veros to feint a rush-in.

    ¡°Hey!¡± He screams, taking several aggressive steps forward.

    The undead brute quickly turns with a forceful horizontal swing of the halberd, simultaneously letting out an inhuman war cry. Veros angles his shield to redirect the swing''s momentum, but just as with Atticus, the sheer velocity of the weapon still causes him to lose his footing, practically making him fall backwards entirely. Royd takes the opportunity to try and strike, lifting his axe above his head, but the undead reacts too quickly, making a defensive maneuver of stepping back while taking a another swing at Royd. The burly Mistwalker throws himself back, scarcely escaping the touch of the sharp spike at the end of the halberd.

    ¡°Bastard''s pretty fast for his size.¡± Royd can''t help but voice his frustration aloud.

    The team finds themselves in a slight bind, as the towering undead knight is both incredibly strong, and much faster than they assumed it''d be. The gruesome monstrosity continues to posture itself by carefully keeping an eye on all parties and constantly taking small steps in every direction, making it hard to gauge what action it''ll commit to next. It''s difficult for any of the fighters to close in, especially considering the great reach the beast has thanks to its giant weapon.

 X. Holy Blade (Section 3)

    About eighty feet or so to the south, Erik and Zyra are watching on, waiting for an opportune moment to begin any sort of long-range offense, but with the undead alert and on the defensive, it''s hard to make a call.

    ¡°I think I have an idea; a simple one, but it should hopefully help.¡± Erik suddenly speaks as he takes an arrow from his quiver. He presents it to the pyromancer. ¡°Light the tip of this on fire.¡±

    Not knowing what the noble is going for, Zyra complies anyway. She holds out her right hand, extending her thumb and index finger in the usual ''combustion'' gesture. It takes a brief moment of concentrating for her to focus her mind.

    ¡°Combustra!¡± She declares her incantation with gusto, and a controlled flame smaller than usual spews forth, lighting the tip of the arrow aflame.

    Erik wastes no time nocking the arrow into his bowstring, and taking aim. Unfortunately, the combination of both the mist slightly obscuring his view and the undead creature constantly dancing back and forth makes for a tricky shot. Worst case, one of the archer''s teammates might wander into the line of fire.

    ¡°I just need one of them to get the son of a bitch to stand still for just one second.¡± Erik utters in increasing frustration.

    Atticus, facing south, notices a small orb of orange light at Erik''s position, and realizes the archer''s intent on firing.

    ¡°I''ll bait out a swing.¡± The knight says to Veros, who is still turtling behind his shield, hesitant to move in.

    ¡°Be careful.¡± Veros replies, without taking his eyes off the agitated monster.

    ¡°Over here!¡± Atticus yells at the giant while stepping forward, feinting an offensive maneuver, drawing the undead knight''s attention to him, and forcing it to expose its back southward. The engorged armored corpse shrieks intimidatingly and retaliates with strong combative intent. Opting for more than just a swing, it lunges its body forward and thrusts its halberd with obscene strength, treating it like an extension of its own body. The spiked end of the weapon rushes at Atticus''s chest, but as before, he quickly redirects momentum with his shield. However, the unanticipated force effectively knocks him off his feet, and onto his back. Now in a vulnerable position, the beast doesn''t hesitate to continue its offense. It begins to lift its halberd, ready to bring the heavy axe blade of it down to finish off its prey.

    ¡°Damn!¡± Veros exclaims as he rushes to Atticus''s aid, but he only has a miniscule window of time to react, which is barely enough to get between the knight and the undead, shield up to take a brunt of the force. However, considering how strong the giant corpse is, it''s a suicidal gesture, shield or not.

    Erik, finally given the momentary clear shot he hoped for, finally looses his arrow. It cuts through the air at amazing speed, and lodges itself into the back of the undead''s left leg, behind the knee. The necrotic brute stumbles over before it can bring its axe down, letting out a loud groan as it falls into a kneeling position.

    ¡°Kellar, go for its right leg!¡± Veros shouts a command.

    The rogue, who had been erring on the side of extreme caution during the encounter thus far, complies instinctively, and rushes at the wounded monster as it tries to stand by shifting its weight to its right leg. Holding his dagger in a reverse grip with his offhand supporting the pommel, Kellar quickly runs in, makes one incredibly forceful slice at the back of the undead''s right knee, and backs off again.

    Desperate and unable to stand, the wailing, struggling, hulking corpse takes its halberd and makes one more wide swing in a despairing attempt to take one of the Mistwalkers down with it. It misses, and as the arc of the swing comes to an end, Royd steps in from its blind spot, with his axe already above his head, and chops at the shaft of the halberd, cutting it in half. Now disarmed as well, the undead''s options have essentially run out. Unable to bring itself to its feet, it falls forward, catching itself with its hands, putting itself on all fours. Veros closes in and thrusts his straightsword into the exposed area at the base of its neck, and pulls it back out in one swift motion. The giant cadaver screeches grotesquely at a deafening volume as it covers the gaping wound. Atticus, now back on his feet, silences the repulsive being with a single verticle swing of his sharp sword at its neck, severing its head from its shoulders. Its slumps over and hits the ground with a thud. The battle is won.

    The four Mistwalkers who fought up close are standing in silence, quietly gathering their bearings. They''re exhausted despite the fight lasting only a couple minutes, but considering the danger any of them would have been in if anything had gone wrong, they were all rather tense. The undead beast''s power and speed were nothing to scoff at. The black knight, specifically, was brushing his fingers against the door to the afterlife after being knocked off his feet, something he silently considers as he stares at the motionless mass of decaying flesh before him. If the monster didn''t have a weak point to exploit, the fight would still be going on, and who knows how it would play out.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Is it dead?¡± Kellar is the first to break the silence.

    ¡°Its head is off, so I imagine so.¡± Royd answers, but he''s not much more confident. As far as he knows, the strange magic of the mist can still bring it back somehow. At the moment, however, it''s just limp and unmoving.

    Erik and Zyra, still mounted, approach to rejoin the fighters, along with the other horses. The archer quietly revels in his good aim as the glances at the arrow still stuck in the giant corpse''s leg. The pyromancer still can''t help but twist her face in disgust at the engorged cadaver that looks nearly inhuman in its swollen form.

    ¡°It really is a monastery knight.¡± Veros says, now able to get up close to the creature for close examination. ¡°There''s no mistaking this armor.¡±

    ¡°Guess it was part of the travel party with those monks we found.¡± Kellar adds.

    ¡°Possibly.¡±

    ¡°So what part of this bastard do we cut off to take with us?¡± Royd suddenly suggests.

    ¡°What are you talkin'' about?¡± Kellar replies.

    ¡°The unique conquests bonus we get back at the barrier gates.¡± The burly woodcutter recalls. ¡°Remember? We just need to bring back proof of this creature''s size.¡±

    ¡°But we''re not goin'' back to the gates. We''re continuin'' north. Are you suggestin'' we drag an undead monster''s severed limb with us all the way to Armasstadt?¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡± Royd shakes his head. ¡°We''ll just leave the trophy at Rosemont, and pick it back up when we return.¡±

    ¡°If we return.¡± Kellar bluntly corrects his teammate. ¡°But I guess we could. We''re already halfway to Rosemont anyway. What do you think, cap''n?¡± He refers to Veros in a tongue-in-cheek manner.

    ¡°Well, as long as we''re actually allowed to store the trophy at Rosemont, I don''t see why not.¡± The team leader responds with a small shrug. ¡°The question is: what body part do we take?¡±

    All six of the Mistwalkers reflexively stare at the still, rotting lump of muscle, investigating it with their leers for which section would best tell of its size.

    ¡°Its head seems out of the question.¡± Atticus chimes in while pointing at the severed cranium, which still dons its helmet. ¡°It doesn''t seem to have grown in size like the rest of its body.¡± Indeed, the head doesn''t look as veiny and bloated as the torso and limbs. Thus, it would be a very bad indicator of largeness.

    ¡°How about a hand?¡± Erik offers a suggestion. ¡°They seem to have become as enlarged as its feet did, but its more dignified than actually carrying a severed foot around.¡±

    ¡°That''s probably the best option.¡± Veros nods in agreement.

    ¡°Wait a second.¡± Kellar interrupts. ¡°What if someone else comes along and takes a hand for themselves, claiming they killed it? Or maybe even drag the whole body back?¡±

    ¡°Do gate headquarters actually offer the rewards on a first-come, first-served basis like that?¡±

    ¡°I''m not sure.¡± The bald man shakes his head. ¡°That''s why I''m wonderin'' if it''s a good idea to take just a hand. They might keep a record of who killed what, so if someone else finds the rest of this mean son of a bitch and drags him back to the gate before we bring back just a hand, it might screw us out of the bonus.¡±

    ¡°Hmm...¡± Veros hesitates now that the idea of potential false claims comes to light. As someone who considers himself honest and expects honesty in return, a greedy passer-by taking credit for the kill and subquently preventing the team from procuring their rightful reward rubs him the wrong way. ¡°So what should we do? We can''t really hide the body off the road, since we''re still in open farmland. Burying it would also waste too much time.¡±

    ¡°Actually...¡± Royd suddenly speaks up while digging into one of his saddlebags. ¡°I brought about thirty feet of rope.¡± He brings out a coil of rope, made from natural fibers.

    ¡°The hell you have rope for?¡± Kellar asks, dumbfounded.

    ¡°I figured it might come in handy in the case we had to haul something, and here we are, thinking about hauling something.¡± Royd gives a simple, but believable explanation. ¡°The braiding isn''t very thick, but the fibers are very strong. We''ll tie this big lug to two of the horses, and we''ll drag him to Rosemont.¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess that''s what we''ll do, then.¡± With no real reason to deny the idea, Veros accepts it. ¡°Whose horses will we use?¡±

    ¡°The rogue''s and mine will be fine.¡± The brawny fighter answers immediately, volunteering Kellar''s horse without his permission.

    ¡°Hey!¡± The rogue scolds. ¡°Don''t just bring me into it without tellin'' me.¡±

    ¡°It''s just dragging a carcass for several hours.¡± Royd snarkily dismisses his companion''s complaints as he dismounts. ¡°Now come help me tie up the smelly creature.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± Kellar complies despite clear disdain on his face.

    As the two begin to fashion the rope around the body in a manner fit for hauling, Atticus retrieves a spare sack tucked into one of his saddlebags, and walks up to the monstrosity''s severed head. He kneels down and carefully fits the sack over it, until it''s completely concealed, and then turns the sack over to carry it. He sees Veros bend over to pick up the halberd with a broken shaft.

    ¡°You''re taking that, too?¡± The knight asks.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Veros answers. ¡°The monastery might want it back. I''ve heard these are quite expensive to smith. You''re taking the head?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Atticus glances at the sack. ¡°I figure the bonus might be larger if we bring the complete package.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Veros nods lightly with a satisfied half-smile. The knight is a bit surprised to see such an expression, as the de facto captain has maintained a rather no-nonsense demeanor since the beginning of the journey.

    After some minutes of preparation, Royd and Kellar finish tying the dead brute to their horses'' saddles, and the team continues northward.

 XI. Men Embattled (Section 1)

    Several miles later, the team is well on their way to Checkpoint Rosemont, and have encountered no obstacles or deviations from the route. At the rear of the party are Royd and Kellar, still hauling the massive, headless undead brute with their horses. Its unnaturally thick, heavy body being listlessly dragged across the dirt provides an audible, continuous scraping sound that the two have no doubt grown used to by now. However, the rogue twists his face in disgust at something else entirely.

    ¡°Fuckin'' hells, the stench.¡± Kellar groans. ¡°I''ve never been around an undead long enough to catch whiff after whiff of their disgusting odor until now. It feels like it''s all I''m breathin'' in.¡±

    ¡°Mind over matter, friend.¡± Royd tries to offer encouragement. ¡°Every time the bitter scent enters your nostrils, just remind yourself of the generous bonus you''ll receive once this big bastard''s taken back to Zenith Gate.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I''m tryin''.¡± Kellar remarks. He exhales sharply and shakes his head in a small gesture of trying to alleviate the tainted air if only for a second, but it doesn''t help much.

    ¡°You did well back there, by the way.¡± The bulky man offers sudden praise. ¡°You barely showed any sort of hesitation when you were needed.¡±

    ¡°I''ve mentioned before that I''m experienced in fights.¡± Kellar replies snapily to remove any doubt that he''s a coward as opposed to just cautious. ¡°But thanks.¡±

    ¡°Well, I''ll admit I didn''t really believe you when you said you did mercenary work. I thought that was a load of shite at first. Ha ha!¡± Royd proudly reveals his initial suspicion of his own teammate with a belly laugh.

    ¡°Oh, fuck off, you oaf.¡± Kellar fires back. ¡°I''ve come to terms with the fact that I need to go as far north as I can go, despite all sense of self-preservation telling me not to.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± The big man sympathizes in a soft tone. ¡°I might not seem like it, but I''m frightened of what may lie ahead, too. Downright scared shiteless. But I push myself because people depend on me on to do so ¨C both people I know and people I don''t.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Kellar nods lightly in agreement. ¡°I''ve come to terms with that, too.¡± He quietly imagines the faces of people who rely on him back at Evatica.

    At the front of the group are Veros and Atticus, the two who led the charge against the necrotic beast they''re now bringing with them for a potential future prize.

    ¡°I''m glad you''re traveling with us.¡± Veros throws out a sudden compliment. ¡°You''re even more dependable in a fight than I had hoped.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Atticus responds, but hangs his head slightly. ¡°Though I was close to meeting my maker at the end there. I got too ahead of myself.¡±

    ¡°No need to beat yourself up about it.¡± The team leader speaks in his usual, matter-of-factly tone to help reassure the black knight. ¡°That fight went about as smoothly as any of us could have hoped, and you''re the one who laid out our strategy for it, too. When you started firing off plans of attack, I was the one following your lead.¡±

    The knight quietly stirs in his thoughts for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He wasn''t expecting to receive any sort of pep talk today.

    ¡°I appreciate your support.¡± He says, unable to think of a better way to voice his gratitude. ¡°You were an extremely reliable teammate, as well. I noticed you jumped between me and the monster after I had been knocked down.¡±

    ¡°Leftover habit from my days in the Legion, no doubt.¡± Veros replies with a sad smile.

    Atticus doesn''t feel particularly surprised by this new information. He had a sneaking suspicion of Veros having possible military experience since the moment they first spoke, but being strangers then, he didn''t want to pry, and Veros never brought it up until now.

    ¡°So, you were in the Legion?¡± The knight comments in tone that suggests he guessed it earlier. ¡°You do exude the aura of an officer.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I retired eight years ago.¡± The veteran lets out a small sigh as he reminisces of his military days. ¡°I signed up to join as soon as I was of age, and spent eleven years with them.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Eight years ago...¡± The knight repeats to himself. ¡°Were you part of Yhordran''s reinforcement troops in the Kudura war?¡±

    ¡°I was.¡± Veros answers dejectedly with a small nod. ¡°And as you''ve deduced, I retired immediately afterward.¡±

    The knight only nods back, deciding against talking about the conflict further. Essentially, the war took place in the southern Rhodanion region of Kudura, and initially started as a civil struggle between divided citizens. However, both sides began to pull in outside assistance, and it eventually grew to affect areas beyond its borders. Yhordran intervened with the intent of mediation, but in reality it was the crown wanting to wantonly throw their weight around. The half-hearted attempt at aiding the Kuduran rebels resulted in great losses for Yhordran, and the remaining numbers retreated before the war ended with a treaty signing and passing of new legislations several months later. Yhordran''s uninspired participation in the conflict is a blemish on an otherwise pristine record of victories. Thus, the Kudura war is a sore spot for any veterans who were part of the Legion during that time. It''s no wonder Veros retired soon after.

    ¡°I used to favorably anticipate a future with the Legion.¡± Veros continues in a low, grim tone. ¡°But the failure of our involvement with the Kudura war changed all that. I sometimes see others trying to spin it, saying that the treaty was signed soon after we were sent, but anyone with enough insight knows we barely did anything. Our forces ran around like chickens with our heads cut off.¡±

    Signs of deep frustration begin to show on the veteran''s face and in his voice, but he pauses and takes a deep breath to get himself under control again.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Veros apologizes. ¡°Whenever I recall that time, I become so aggravated.¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry for bringing it up.¡± The knight does what he can to draw his comrade''s mind away from grim memories. ¡°Before coming to Yhordran, I had a chance to visit Kudura, specifically Halsani. The new legislations helped the people a lot. You wouldn''t be able to tell they had a civil war only several years prior.¡±

    ¡°That''s good to hear.¡± The team leader nods as he begins to calm himself. ¡°I at least had some time to meet with locals there. The rebelling forces were mostly working-class people who just wanted better wages for their back-breaking manual labor ¨C they were practically akin to slaves. It''s nice to know things have balanced out a bit since then.¡±

    Another awkward silence befalls them. The knight considers ways of progressing the conversation, but doesn''t want to say the wrong thing to a man with clear past traumas.

    ¡°I get a sense of military experience from you, as well.¡± Veros suddenly speaks, ending the silence before the knight has a chance to. ¡°And not just because of that armor.¡±

    ¡°You''re not far off.¡± Atticus answers, remembering that unlike Zyra and Erik, Veros hasn''t figured out the knight''s origin by just looking at him. ¡°I''m from Threcia. This isn''t Threcian military armor, but rather royal guard armor.¡±

    ¡°Royal guard?¡± The veteran repeats out loud, wide-eyed. ¡°You''re saying you were part of the Threcian royal guard? That armor''s yours?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± The knight says with a small, slightly reluctant nod. ¡°It''s not uncommon for people to initially assume I stole this armor somehow, so I don''t blame you if you thought that at first, too. But it is mine.¡±

    ¡°I never thought that you stole it, per se.¡± Veros clarifies, still in disbelief at the new information about his teammate. ¡°I had just never seen it before. But I remember thinking that it looked very ornate for any random Mistwalker. I recall Kellar trying to pry about it when you first joined us. He said something about how you must be an important person with armor like that. Now I know. But, if you don''t mind me asking, why did you leave?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± Atticus pauses. He knew someone in the party was bound to ask that question sooner or later. He momentarily strains his mind for how to approach the question. ¡°I failed at a very important task. It wasn''t a mandatory one, but rather something I took upon myself. I failed and... left.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Veros acknowledges the vague explanation and certainly wishes to know more, but notices the knight''s obvious hesitance and decides not to press it. Instead, he seeks common ground with his comrade. ¡°I''m somewhat similar. The failure of Yhordran''s involvement in the Kudura war made me disillusioned with the Legion and the crown, but I had more personal reasons for departing the Legion ¨C my own failings.¡±

    Both men fall silent yet again, having thrown themselves at the mercy of their pasts. Before the atmosphere between them grows too grim, Veros speaks up again.

    ¡°But the arrival of this mist has made me realize that even though I''ve left the military and have lost faith in my leaders, I still care about my people.¡± He gives a strong, reassuring gaze at the knight. ¡°I still have a purpose.¡±

    The veteran faces forward again, leaving the knight to consider his words. Atticus begins, once again, wondering about his purpose since leaving his home. If you were to ask him several months ago, he''d say his purpose died in Threcia. Now, he isn''t so sure. He feels as though he''s on the path to discovering new meaning, but still can''t fathom what it could be, or if it would be as fulfilling as the life he had before. He thinks about his reasons for initially joining the royal guard: the desire to be useful to the royal family, not just out of respect, but to be close to a specific person. Was it selfish of him to accept a role like that for such reasons? Does he want to be a protector? He''s gone out of his way to help others in need after his self-exile, but is it something he can dedicate himself to? Perhaps he doesn''t have the same altruistic drive as his comrade, Veros.

    ¡°I''m not sure what my purpose is.¡± The knight begins aloud, somberly. ¡°But I hope that when it reveals itself, it is as distinct to me as yours was to you.¡±

    Veros gives an empathetic nod, silently encouraging his companion.

 XI. Men Embattled (Section 2)

    Later in the day, the band finally reaches Checkpoint Rosemont, the last on their route to Armasstadt, yet only halfway there. As always, after entering the arcane barrier to keep the mist out of the perimeter, they''re stopped by Legion soldiers on guard.

    ¡°Hold.¡± The first soldier orders with a raise of his hand. ¡°You''re Mistwalkers, I assume?¡±

    ¡°We are.¡± Veros responds while handing over his card. ¡°We''ve also brought a bit of a package with us, if you don''t mind. Something we need to keep here until we return.¡±

    ¡°And what would that be?¡± The soldier asks with a hint of snarky suspicion.

    ¡°Take a look for yourself.¡± Veros beckons the man to go to the back of the group and see what they have.

    ¡°Stay here and take a look at their cards.¡± The first soldier gives orders to his colleague as he hands Veros his card back, and makes his way to the rear of the party.

    ¡°May I see your card, please? Sir?¡± The second soldier asks the black knight with a more proper, professional tone. Atticus complies, and the soldier returns it after a short glance. ¡°Thank you, you can both move¨C¡±

    ¡°What in the blue fuckin'' hell is that?!¡± The first soldier''s screams are heard. The second abandons his task to rush over to the source of the noise, and finds his comrade staring at a massive, necrotic, headless brute being dragged between two horses.

    ¡°Oh my Gods...¡± The second soldier utters with a shaky voice. ¡°What is that thing?¡±

    ¡°Just a friend we picked up earlier.¡± Royd jokingly answers.

    ¡°Don''t jest!¡± The first soldier yells, irritated at the strange predicament he''s found himself in. ¡°What is this?! Why are you bringing it into the damn checkpoint?!¡±

    ¡°No need to yell, pal.¡± Kellar replies condescendingly. ¡°This big bastard slaughtered a party of Mistwalkers about thirty miles back. So we killed it, and figured we''d cash it in for one of those ''unique conquest'' bonuses back at the gate.¡±

    ¡°Then why the hell are you not taking it south?¡± The soldier continues interrogating with increasing aggravation.

    ¡°Because we''re not goin'' south.¡± Kellar continues. ¡°We''re continuin'' north, and we''re gonna come back later for this lug. But if we just left him on the road, someone would probably take him and claim the bonus for themselves.¡±

    ¡°What, so you expect to keep it here?!¡± The soldier continues ranting. ¡°Are you insane?! It may come back to life again!¡±

    ¡°Oh, hells, the stench.¡± The second soldier reels his head back uncomfortably.

    ¡°It''s got no fuckin'' head.¡± The rogue responds. ¡°When have you seen an undead come back after their head''s been cut off? Hell, you can tie it down if it makes you feel more secure.¡±

    ¡°Good gods, I''m getting the captain.¡± The first soldier begins to storm off like a child throwing a fit. ¡°You all stay there!¡±

    ¡°What a pain in the ass.¡± Kellar gripes.

    ¡°We can''t really expect them to just take it with open arms.¡± Veros laments. ¡°I''m sure they''ve never seen anything like him before.¡±

    After a moment of waiting, the first soldier returns with his commanding officer, a stern-looking older man in an officer''s suit instead of battle armor, sporting short brown hair and a trimmed beard. A small scar is below his left eye. He approaches the group with an authoritiative voice.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Mistwalkers, I''m Captain Roderick Bellum, the commanding officer residing at Checkpoint Rosemont. Now, what is it that you''ve brought here?¡± He introduces himself and cuts to the chase.

    ¡°We''ve brought a trophy that we hope to keep here until we return for it at a later date.¡± Veros explains as he gestures to the large monstrosity being dragged along by two horses.

    The captain walks up to the headless undead, and contorts his face slightly in disgust, both at the sight, and the smell. He isn''t nearly as apprehensive as the two soldiers were. First thing he takes note of is the obvious lack of a head.

    ¡°I''ve heard rumors of a giant undead knight stomping about.¡± He asks. ¡°I guess this must be him. How''d you kill him?¡±

    ¡°We went for the legs.¡± Royd proudly proclaims. ¡°Oldest trick in the book.¡± He nods with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

    ¡°We were able to surround him and cut him down.¡± Veros adds. ¡°As you can see, he shed his boots, leaving his lower legs open to exploit, so we did.¡±

    The captain looks back at the unmoving corpse, and notices that an arrow is still sticking out from the back of its left knee.

    ¡°How difficult was the fight?¡± Roderick inquires further.

    ¡°Well, it was short, but it wasn''t easy.¡± Veros recounts the recent battle. ¡°It had power, reach, and even speed, despite its size. It all came down to waiting for the opportune moment to strike.¡±

    ¡°Do you have its weapon?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± The team leader reaches to his horse''s side to retrieve the broken halberd, and display it to the captain. ¡°This is the halberd it was using. We broke it along the shaft in order to disarm the monster.¡±

    ¡°And its head?¡±

    Veros looks at Atticus, who simply holds up the sack, which now has a dark stain on the bottom side of it.

    ¡°I see...¡± The captain rubs his chin pensively, and returns to examining the motionless hulk. ¡°Alright, I''ll allow you to keep it here.¡±

    ¡°Sir?¡± The first soldier speaks up, clearly dumbfounded.

    ¡°It''s headless, has no weapon, and likely can''t walk.¡± Roderick matter-of-factly states. ¡°If by some terrible act of mysticism, it does reanimate again, it wouldn''t be a threat to two dozen armed soldiers here. Plus, it could boost morale to see the that even a monstrosity like this could be fell.¡±

    ¡°But where do we put it?¡± The second soldier asks.

    ¡°Take some rope and stakes and pin it down just inside the wall.¡± The captain points to a specific spot just inside the gate and off to the side. ¡°It will at least be far enough from the barracks and headquarters so that the odor doesn''t affect anyone. Go.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The first soldier responds with a salute, though his shaky voice gives way to his obvious apprehensiveness.

    Kellar and Royd momentarily dismount their horses to untie the rope attached to their horses'' saddles, and hand it to the soldiers.

    ¡°Hopefully you take this opportunity to become as close to him as we did.¡± Kellar snidely remarks with a smirk crossing his face.

    The first soldier narrows his eyes with contempt as the two Mistwalkers mount their horses again.

    ¡°Now...¡± The captain continues. ¡°Follow me, and you can hitch your horses, stamp your cards, eat some food, and get yourselves situated for an overnight stay.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, captain.¡± Veros replies.

    Roderick turns around and leads the Mistwalkers to Rosemont''s headquarters, while the two witless guards look at each other with utter bewilderment. They pause for a brief moment to process their predicament, looking back at the giant dead brute they''re tasked to move, and shake their heads in dismay.

    Inside Rosemont''s headquarters, after the band of Mistwalkers complete the task of having their cards stamped, they proceed into the hearby dining hall, where the usual buffet of free food is available to them. However, continuing with the usual pattern they''ve witnessed with each checkpoint, the selection of edibles is smaller than before. And yet again, Royd is the only one among them truly hurt by the discovery. Compared to Eowerth, the first checkpoint they stayed at, the amount of food is down by about two-thirds. This isn''t because more people come and go from Rosemont, but because it takes longer for Legion food supply to reach it, and they prioritize the southern-most checkpoints because they have more passers-by.

    After the group selects their meal, they begin to seat themselves at the far end of a long dining table, with Veros and Atticus sitting across from other at the end seats. Zyra and Royd sit to Atticus''s side, as Erik and Kellar sit next to Veros. On most of their plates are big, balanced meals of different food groups, except Royd, who again has a strong preference for meat. They casually dig in to their long-awaited dinners, but not long after they start, Roderick approaches them, with less formality than before.

    ¡°Mind if I sit with you all for a moment?¡± The captain asks, dropping the authoritative tone he held while interrogating them at the gate.

    ¡°Not at all.¡± Veros answers.

 XI. Men Embattled (Section 3)

    Roderick takes a stool from the nearest vacant table and places it at the very end of the group''s, allowing him face perpendicular to them, adjacent to the knight and team leader.

    ¡°So, you all plan to continue north?¡± Roderick cuts to the chase.

    ¡°We do.¡± Veros answers bluntly.

    ¡°All the way to Armasstadt?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± The captain leans back a bit, dejected at the thought of seeing more travelers head into the treacherous north. ¡°Most who reach us simply have the sense to turn around and head back to the barrier ¨C grab that Mistwalker wage with all the bonuses obtained by stopping at each checkpoint on the way. It''s extremely rare to see people determined to continue north, and even rarer for them to come back. Obviously, considering the rotting brute you brought with you, you intend to come back. But how confident are you, really?¡±

    The six Mistwalkers all look around the table at each other, unsure of how to feel. They''re all well aware of the increasing danger as they progress north, and they don''t know what sort of horrific beings they could encounter past the Rosemont line, but they''ve resolved themselves all the same.

    ¡°Confident enough.¡± Veros responds after the moment of deliberation. ¡°We''ve made up our minds, and we want to reach Armasstadt.¡±

    ¡°Very well.¡± Roderick nods. ¡°Then I''ll give a bit of assistance.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± The veteran wonders, curious as to what sort of help could possibly be offered.

    ¡°Another forty miles north is a settlement.¡± The captain speaks as he leans in. ¡°A village named Terrance. The Legion hasn''t yet committed to any sort of plan to expand northward, so a group of Mistwalkers did it in their stead.¡±

    ¡°How were they able to manage such a thing?¡± Atticus wonders aloud.

    ¡°We helped them.¡± Roderick immediately gives a concise answer. ¡°Over the course of several weeks, my men helped them fortify the village. We continue to send a portion of our food supply up to them every two weeks, as well.¡±

    ¡°How many other Mistwalkers are there?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°Fourteen, last I heard. If you reach them by nightfall, you''ll have another reasonably safe place to sleep.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± The team leader nods with great consideration to Roderick''s helpful information. ¡°Thank you for telling us this.¡±

    ¡°No problem.¡± The captain stands and returns the stool back to its original spot. He turns to discuss one more minor thing before leaving. ¡°Also, there are warm baths available behind the barracks. There''s a pond connected to a river nearby, so we took some water in unused troughs, and heated them. You can ask for cloths to dry yourselves with at the barracks.¡±

    ¡°Thank the Gods.¡± Royd''s voice carries a heavy sense of relief at the news as he lets out a long breath of renewed hope.

    ¡°Feel free to help yourselves.¡± Roderick departs the dining hall with those closing words, leaving the group to finish their meal.

    Afterward, they''ve finished completing the second part of their daily checkpoint ritual: setting up camp. Their tents and bedrolls were collected in the usual cluster in a small clear area next to the barracks, and a tiny bonfire was once again lit in front of them to offer the journeyers an opportunity to rest their bodies and appreciate its warmth.

    Atticus, Veros, Kellar, and Zyra sit around the bewitching flame while Royd and Erik have decided to go become intimate with the hot baths they were informed of, as the group can only go in pairs, due to only two tubs being available.

    ¡°I''m finally startin'' to feel homesick.¡± Kellar suddenly comments in a melancholic tone. ¡°Which is odd, because I''ve been away from home longer than this before without feelin'' it at all.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°I know what you mean.¡± Veros replies with equal somber. ¡°I think it''s the mist. It lowers our visibility to such a small area and saps the color out of our surroundings, it feels like we''re in some sort of prison.¡±

    ¡°It definitely gets into your head.¡± The rogue gives a listless nod. ¡°I know this might be hard to believe, but I''m not actually afraid of dyin''. We all die eventually, often when we don''t expect it. I accepted that back in my mercenary days, where you had to accept it or you couldn''t do your job. What I''m afraid of is dyin'' specifically in a grim place like this.¡±

    The other three, listening to Kellar spill his thoughts, silently agree with the sentiment.

    ¡°I don''t like the idea of my body comin'' back to life as some mindless husk, tryin'' to kill other people as they pass by. I don''t want my whole bein'' to be relegated down to a card, because my reanimated corpse is considered less than human now.¡± Kellar takes his own Mistwalker card and stares down at it for a moment. Without lifting his head up, he continues. ¡°You think their minds are still in there? When someone becomes undead, do you think their minds still function, but they have no control over bodies? If so, that''s a fucked way to go out.¡±

    ¡°There''s no way to know such things for sure.¡± Veros interjects before the atmosphere becomes too sullen. ¡°It''s hard not to entertain such morbid ideas while we''re out here, but if we let it get the better of ourselves, we''ll succumb to the psychological torture that prevents most Mistwalkers from making it this far to begin with. Mental fortitude is half the battle on this side of the barrier.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Kellar nods. ¡°It''s good I''m not traveling alone. My pessimistic thoughts definitely would''ve convinced me to turn and run by the end of day two, and that''d only put me back where I started.¡±

    ¡°Being in a group certainly takes the edge off a bit in this place.¡± Veros agrees. ¡°Loneliness can break a person down just as efficiently as any undead could, if not more so.¡±

    Atticus, who originally intended on traveling alone to begin with, ponders what his fate might have been if he had proceeded on his own after that first day. His journey ¨C and life ¨C probably would have ended at Levinburg if he wouldn''t have the sense to go around Tumarda River. Even after that, would he have still been ambushed by those ashen remains at Legarthat? And after that, would he run into the hulking undead brute by himself? Visions of potential outcomes start to flood his mind. But at the end of the mental slideshow, the fact remains that he was aware of high dangers at the start, yet still continued onward. He reflects on this as he quietly stares at the small, but lively bonfire.

    Meanwhile, behind the barracks is the surprisingly elaborate bathing area. It consists of a wooden platform under a square gazebo-like structure, illuminated by an oil lantern on each corner pillar, with two metal troughs repurposed into tubs in the center, elevated by stone blocks, and under each of the tubs is a fire to heat the water. Royd and Erik are comfortably submerged to their necks in the tubs, and while sliding curtains along the edge of the wooden roof are meant for privacy, the men keep them open for the sake of having an open air experience. The expression on their faces can only be described as complete bliss. As steam from the water rises into the air, Royd takes an appreciative deep breath.

    ¡°I''ve waited days for this.¡± The brawny woodcutter utters mid-exhale. ¡°That Roderick fellow truly knows how keep morale up.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡± Erik responds, keeping his eyes closed in total concentration on the cathartic sensation of the hot water against his skin.

    ¡°While we''re relaxing here, I have a question for you.¡± Royd picks up an inquisitive tone. ¡°This is rather personal, so I won''t blame you if you''d rather not discuss it, but I''ve been thinking about the reasons you gave for going on this little adventure with us.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± Erik stops his therapeutic focus momentarily to give his attention to his comrade, not knowing where the conversation is leading.

    ¡°I was curious as to why your father wouldn''t leave anything to you.¡± Royd gets to the point quickly. ¡°You said your older brother would receive all of your father''s properties. Why aren''t you getting anything?¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Erik rests his head back at stares at the foggy distance beyond the magical barrier over the checkpoint. ¡°I don''t have a great relationship with my father. He''s not a bad person, but his expectations of his children don''t really align with my expectations of myself.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°He''s the type of noble who insists on constant socializing and making connections.¡± Erik''s blank expression slowly shows hints of equal annoyance and dejection. ¡°He''s always doing favors for other nobles in expectation of favors in return. Says it helps him expand his influence. He''s always insisted to my brother and I that this is how we''re to guarantee that the Rocheford name would live on in the community even after we''re gone. It''s not as if I''ve been written completely out of his will or anything; I''m still to inherit certain possessions. But he''d rather leave our properties to my brother, who takes after him more.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so your old man''s the type who''s concerned about how far his name reaches, huh?¡± Royd summarizes in a sympathetic tone, nodding to himself.

    ¡°Basically.¡± The noble heaves a small sigh. ¡°I''m not as proactive as him or my brother when it comes to expanding our influence. I quietly took up different hobbies and spent time in the library. It''s just how I am.¡±

 XI. Men Embattled (Section 4)

    ¡°So, you''re a man of few words because it''s just your nature, huh? I first had the impression you were trying to stay distant from the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°Sorry about that. I didn''t mean to give that impression.¡±

    ¡°It''s no problem.¡± Royd waves his wet hand dismissively. ¡°I won''t force you to make small talk for the sake of it or anything. Go on, continue about your old man.¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Erik tries to pick up where he left off. ¡°Shortly before the mist showed up, my father and I had a discussion about my future. He said he was happy about my archery results, but he worries I lack ambition.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I get it.¡± The bulky man has an epiphany. ¡°That''s why you said you wanted to do something great without the help of your family''s name.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Erik nods. ¡°My father''s obsessed with the Rocheford name, and I want to accomplish something great without relying on it. I figured coming out here was a good shot.¡±

    ¡°Frankly, that sounds rather short-sighted.¡± Royd''s tone becomes a bit low as he voices his disapproval. ¡°I can see where you''re coming from, but this is the most high-risk option you could''ve chosen.¡±

    ¡°High-risk, high-reward.¡± The noble corrects his comrade. ¡°You''re right, it''s incredibly short-sighted to come on such a dangerous mission just to prove a point. My motivations for coming here are shallow compared to those who have troubles of greater consequence, but I still want to try.¡±

    ¡°Shallow or not, what matters is that you have the conviction to stick to it.¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Erik gives a confident nod. ¡°I want this more than anything right now.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Royd leans his head back again, feeling like he had a successful pep talk. ¡°By the way, that was an excellent shot back there today. Square in the back of the knee. Your one arrow shifted the tide of the entire fight.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that was nothing.¡± The archer suddenly dons a proud tone and triumphant smile. ¡°I just needed him to stop moving his legs for a second. After that, it was an easy target.¡±

    Royd is surprised at Erik''s sudden shift in attitude, he can''t help but stare at him, wide-eyed and slightly annoyed.

    ¡°Boy, you sure become cocky when the discussion is about archery...¡± The woodcutter comments.

    Soon after, Royd and Erik return to their teammates, feeling refreshed and clean for the first time in days.

    ¡°I can''t begin to describe how welcome that bath was.¡± Royd continues to sing the praises of the bath''s comforting presence as he sits to join the others around the small bonfire. ¡°Whoever''s next can go.¡±

    ¡°I''ll try not to take too long.¡± Atticus responds as he stands and walks to the back of the barracks, drying cloths in hand, with Zyra quietly following behind.

    ¡°Wait...¡± Royd, watching the two walk away, appears confused. ¡°She''s alright with this?¡±

    ¡°It was her idea.¡± Kellar reveals with a shrug.

    ¡°Huh.¡± The muscular man raises his brow in both surprise and intrigue. ¡°Good for her.¡±

    Atticus pulls the bathing platform curtains open to examine the tubs, and notices there''s no curtain between them. He turns to Zyra with a sympathetic expression on his face.

    ¡°You can get in first. Just tell me when you''ve settled in.¡± He says, holding the curtain to the side.

    ¡°Okay.¡± The pyromancer answers with a small nod, and slowly crosses the cloth threshold.

    The knight lets go of the curtain, letting it fall closed into a neutral state. After a pause, he starts to hear the faint rustling of clothes being removed. With nothing to look at besides the beige of the burlap in front of him, he casts his gaze down toward the ground. His stare, despite being directed at nothing in particular, is somewhat intense, as he rarely even blinks. He soon hears the sound of water, presumably the now fully-nude Zyra entering the tub. Audible, small splashes are heard, and then a pause. He lifts his head again, expecting the ''okay'' to come in.

    ¡°I''m in.¡± Zyra announces.

    Atticus pulls the curtains to the side again, and finds Zyra submerged to her chin in the water of her tub, and her clothes folded neatly and placed on the wooden floor. The slightly cloudy water prevents him from seeing the rest of her body; only her face and her shaggy, short auburn hair are visible. She''s staring up at him with eyes that are a mixture of expectant and nervous. He softens his expression a lets out a tiny, almost indistinguishable sigh ¨C one that''s hard to extrapolate as either relief or disappointment.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Not wanting to waste time on an awkward staredown, the knight closes the curtain behind him, walks to his tub, and begins undressing with his back facing the other one. Zyra, throwing away all semblance of politeness, proceeds to stare at him as he sheds his cotton clothing. She quietly admires his toned form, but soon becomes distracted by the amount of small scars scattered around his torso ¨C about a dozen or so of varying lengths and angles, just on his back and sides alone. A noticeable burn scar on his left shoulder is particularly curious to her. Before she realizes, he also submerges himself into the water, and sits back to relax his tired body.

    Silence befalls the two of them as they both quietly soak in the hot baths. Atticus has his head back against the edge of the tub and his arms resting along the lip, staring upward at the ceiling above, while Zyra is hunched forward, staring down at the surface of her cloudy water. The pyromancer can''t help but dwell on the pitiable state she''s found herself in: unable to take the initiative and start a conversation with the stoic knight despite having no trouble doing it before. On the contrary, he seems far more comfortable with the current situation than she does. Trying to ease away feelings of anxiety, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Slowly, she leans back and rests her head against the edge of the tub.

    Atticus, hearing her shift in the water, turns his head to see her mimick his relaxed posture. Now her neck, shoulders, and bare, slender arms are visible, and he realizes this is the most skin he''s seen her bare, as she''s usually covered head to toe in her everyday outfit, which is just a university student''s robes, cape, and hood. Her skin is quite fair, and realizing the rarity of seeing it, he unwittingly leers at her. Losing track of time in his fascination, he eventually looks up at her face to find her with a sly half-smile upon catching his gaze. He turns his face forward again, feeling guilty for his stares, but Zyra smiles confidently to herself.

    Yet another moment of silence shrouds them, but now they''re both finally comfortable in the hot baths meant to soothe, paying less anxious mind to the presence of the opposite sex.

    ¡°Zyra.¡± The knight suddenly speaks.

    ¡°Yes?¡± The mage responds instinctively, almost jumping with surprise.

    ¡°Are you really here just for pyromancy?¡± Atticus inquires, turning his head to look her in the eye.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Zyra responds, not sure of the intent of the question. ¡°Here, in the mist?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Atticus nods. ¡°You mentioned that you don''t want to disappoint your parents, but aren''t there less-dangerous ways to accomplish that?¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡± The mage answers, looking down at the water again. ¡°But my parents sacrificed a lot to send me to the university. My father sold his textiles shop to cover my tuition. He had been seeing fewer customers over the months, so it was inevitable anyway, but he decided to sell the property early for a higher price.¡±

    ¡°Does he still work?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Zyra nods lightly. ¡°He relocated with the spare money, but it''s in an area that has far less activity than before, and in a much smaller building. They''re only barely scraping by right now. I have a younger sister who helps out, but there isn''t much she can do. That''s why I want to succeed, but it''s hard because every time I think of my university, the sight of my struggling family flashes in my head, too. If I fail my second year, I''ll have extra tuition to pay if I want to repeat it, and even then, if I fail it a second time, I''ll be kicked out.¡±

    ¡°So you came here to force yourself to practice the hard way?¡± The knight cuts in, filling in the blanks for himself.

    ¡°More or less.¡± The pyromancer sadly admits. ¡°It''s a move out of sheer desperation, but if I squandered my education, I wouldn''t be able to look at my parents'' faces again.¡±

    Atticus leans his head back again, staring upward with a furrowed brow. He reminisces on his own troubles, and feels a sense of empathy.

    ¡°I know how you feel,¡± he utters. ¡°The feeling of disappointing people you love because you couldn''t keep important promises, and having to live with the shame of your failure afterward.¡±

    Zyra, intrigued by her companion''s sudden self-reflection, leans to the side of her tub, clasping the rim with both hands to get as close to him as possible without standing or exiting the bath entirely.

    ¡°I saw you earlier.¡± She begins talking with intent. ¡°When Kellar and Veros were talking about the dangers of traveling alone, I saw you thinking about their words. Before you joined us, you were set on traveling alone, right?¡±

    ¡°I was.¡± He answers with a nod, returning her gaze.

    ¡°Did you come here expecting to die?¡± Zyra drops a rather big question on him.

    He''s taken aback by the implication of it, and his faces twitches reflexively into an expression of irritation, but not at her. While it''s true that he had been throwing himself face-first into danger since leaving Threcia, he would justify it by saying he''s trying to find meaning in his life again, to accomplish something that can wash away the stench of his failures. However, sometimes he would wrestle with himself, and wonder if he was just tired of living at all.

    ¡°I don''t know what goes on in your head.¡± The mage begins an encouraging lecture. ¡°But now that you''re a member of a team, you have people who trust and depend on you, including me. Okay? So don''t go anywhere.¡±

    The knight is shocked at the sight of her being so invested in his well-being despite only knowing him for a handful of days, but he is appreciative of her consideration.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Atticus nods, cracking a slight smile. ¡°I''ll stick around.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Zyra nods and smiles back. ¡°Because I''ll need a tour guide to show me around Threcia when all of this is done.¡±

    ¡°Still on that, huh?¡± He asks with a more upbeat tone.

    ¡°I''m not letting it go. You''ll take me to Threcia, one way or the other.¡± The mage jokingly prods as she leans back in her tub again.

    The two continue to enjoy their cathartic hot baths, making sure to savour the sensation, as it could be the last on their journey.

 XII. A Promise (Section 1)

    The next morning, after loading themselves with a serviceable breakfast, the band once again prepares to depart for another day''s journey. As they tie up their bedrolls, take down their tents, and re-equip themselves, Roderick Bellum emerges from Rosemont''s headquarters to greet them in the new morning.

    ¡°Good morning, Mistwalkers.¡± The captain announces in his commanding voice and rigid posture. ¡°Wasting no time in continuing your journey, I see.¡±

    ¡°Daylight becomes more and more precious the further north you go.¡± Veros responds as he tightens his thick leather armor around him. ¡°We can''t afford to waste it.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Roderick nods, his expression growing a bit more dejected. ¡°Once you''re back on the road and continue on, you''ll be beyond the Rosemont line. Undead activity tends to rise dramatically there.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a party.¡± Kellar sardonically utters while re-saddling his horse.

    ¡°And do keep in mind the fact that after Terrance, you''ll no longer have the luxury of sleeping inside a fortified area at night.¡± Roderick bluntly reminds the team of hardships to come. ¡°Nor will you have any more dining halls that offer generous amounts of food.¡±

    ¡°Probably won''t have any baths, either.¡± Royd groans under his breath, with sincere sadness in his eyes.

    ¡°It''ll be tough.¡± Veros replies, now fully equipped. ¡°But I think we''ve all realized by now that it wouldn''t get any easier.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± The captain says with a small nod. ¡°I''ll keep your trophy secure in the chance that you do make it back.¡± He points towards the entrance of the outpost, where the unmoving corpse of the undead brute lies, tied up and secured firmly to the ground; its head, still in a sack, placed next to its shoulders.

    ¡°Thank you. But if we''re not back in two weeks, feel free to get rid of it.¡±

    ¡°Two weeks? That''s all?¡± Roderick asks, surprised at the short deadline Veros has given himself and the team.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The group leader nods with confidence in his choice. ¡°We''re not wasting any time on trivialities on this journey. We plan to reach Armasstadt, find the source of the mist, fix or destroy it, then come back. Considering that it should only take four days to get there and four days to come back, we would have a window of ten days to accomplish our goal or to use as extra traveling time. So if we''re not back in two weeks, then we''re very likely not coming back at all.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± The captain says with a small sigh. ¡°You''ve had some time to think about this.¡±

    ¡°It''s hard not to when you''re beyond the barrier.¡± Veros adopts a somber tone. ¡°One must be conscious of dangers, but also not dwell on defeatism.¡±

    ¡°Too right.¡± Roderick is quick to agree with the sentiment, especially as a commanding officer who considers high morale to be paramount on the road to success.

    ¡°Is everyone ready?¡± Veros announces to the other Mistwalkers, who all look prepared for the day''s quest.

    ¡°Aye!¡± Royd answers with unabashed enthusiasm, the effectiveness of the hot bath from the previous night still holding a positive influence over his attitude. The others confirm their readiness with nods and affirmative grunts, and proceed to mount their horses.

    ¡°Thank you for the food, advice, and especially the hot baths.¡± Veros gives one last comment of gratitude to Roderick before departing.

    ¡°You''re welcome to indulge again if you can make it back.¡± The captain offers an encouraging invitation in return.

    After the exchange, the band leaves Rosemont, reentering to road and continuing northward. Crossing the arcane dome of the mist-free outpost into the usual dangers of the infected land boasts a daunting change not just in atmosphere, but also in the sensation of the air itself. The therapeutic embrace of the hot baths seemed to have practically washed away their bodies'' developed endurance to the heavier air, as well. A small price to pay for the experience of a peaceful cleansing.

    The initial stretch of road after the checkpoint is still seemingly void of any undead presence, but with the mist growing denser and visibility shrinking by the day, it''s harder to predict what lies beyond the grey veil ahead. However, with nothing to keep alert of at the moment, Kellar, riding at the front of the group with Veros, takes the opportunity to discuss plans going forward.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°So, after Terrance, how are we gonna handle sleepin''?¡± Kellar inquires.

    ¡°Hopefully we come across shelter reasonably close to sundown. Otherwise, I''d imagine we''ll have to set up camp and take turns staying awake to keep watch.¡± Veros answers with the most obvious, but also only truly available option. ¡°There''s really no other way to establish any real security or set up a perimeter.¡±

    ¡°We''d also have to start rationin'' food, too.¡± The rogue gripes with clear depression in his tone. ¡°I don''t have an appetite like Royd, but I''m not lookin'' forward to being limited to a nibble an hour.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully these Mistwalkers at Terrance have enough supplies to offer something of use.¡± The veteran ponders, showing reluctance in depending on non-Legion individuals he''s yet to meet. ¡°Though they probably have enough problems as is, staying beyond the Rosemont line.¡±

    ¡°Why are Mistwalkers the ones to set up an outpost beyond the halfway point of the misted area?¡± Kellar asks aloud. ¡°You''d think the Legion would be trying to do a lot more than they have been.¡±

    ¡°I haven''t had much faith in the Legion''s leadership in quite some time.¡± Veros replies with a touch of vitriol in his voice. ¡°Nor the crown, by extension. They could be holding themselves back from taking action for any number of reasons. Worst case, they want the commonfolk to do their work for them, which is already hinted at thanks to us being here in the first place.¡±

    ¡°You really think they''d throw the fate of the whole country, maybe even the world into the hands of random commoners like us and just sit back? Wouldn''t that hurt them as much as it hurts us?¡±

    ¡°I wouldn''t put it past them. These are the same people who decided to interfere in a war they had no part in for no other excuse than to just throw their political weight around.¡± The veteran with a chip on his shoulder decides to stop the conversation before it turns into a rant on his part. ¡°But further speculation and we''d just start talking about unproven conspiracies. None of it changes the fact that we''re now beyond the Legion''s help.¡±

    ¡°You''ve got quite a grudge against the crown, don''t you?¡± The rogue observes.

    ¡°I''m not much of an admirer, no.¡± Veros bluntly replies back.

    Though he pretends to not care, he also wonders why additional efforts haven''t been made. It''s a curiosity indeed that Legion checkpoints stop so far from the mist''s center. Giving the benefit of the doubt, could it be a lack of resources? The unwillingness to throw more men into the unknown abyss without more information? Veros doesn''t doubt that it is a tough call to make considering how alien the situation is, but inaction is inaction all the same, and the crown has offered little communication regarding their next moves.

    Not long after, now several miles from Rosemont, the shadowy figures of undead can be identified in the foggy distance, shambling closer the group. Veros stops in order to examine the enemy.

    ¡°I think I see... two?¡± The leader estimates with narrowed eyes. ¡°Who wants to take these?¡±

    ¡°I''d like to get some practice, if it''s okay.¡± A feminine voice emerges from the back of the group. Zyra, usually quiet ¨C more so than Erik ¨C during the day, steps forward with confident eyes.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Veros smirks, surprised at the young woman''s initiative. ¡°It''s rare for you to volunteer for these things.¡±

    ¡°I''m ready to start pulling my weight.¡± The pyromancer declares. ¡°I feel like I haven''t contributed much since we began our journey. But if things are going to get more dangerous, then I need to get used to fighting.¡±

    ¡°That''s the right attitude to have.¡± The team leader offers praise with a proud smile. He beckons the mage to go ahead. ¡°They''re all yours.¡±

    The pyromancer proceeds forward with a clear gaze of determination in her eyes, and Veros follows behind, anticipating a new, skillful display of arcane usage that Zyra was unable to show off before.

    She stops her horse at a safe distance from the two wandering cadavers, both heavily decayed, who are gradually closing in at brisk pace. She raises her right arm, opens her hand to face her palm to the closest undead, takes a single breath to gather her focus, and begins.

    ¡°Spherus Infernum.¡± Zyra speaks the incantation in a low voice, and a fiery orb is conjured and flashes across the air at an amazing speed. It hits the first undead directly in the chest, causing it to explode into a gory, flaming mess.

    ¡° Spherus Infernum.¡± She says again, aiming at the second corpse, a slightly further distance away. Again, the ball of fire collides with its chest, and the undead bursts in an orange flash, throwing bits of flesh in every direction.

    Zyra brings her hand down, taking another deep breath to relax herself as a single bead of sweat slides down the side of her face. Despite how easy she made it look, her heart is racing and her mind is spinning with disbelief that she''s made so much progress with her casting in only a few days. She still has a ways to go before casting such simple spells becomes truly effortless for her, but the young woman has gained a more positive outlook on her ability as a mage.

    ¡°Good work.¡± Veros comments from behind, sporting a satisfied smile. ¡°You almost made it look like second nature.¡±

    ¡°Thanks! I''ve been receiving good advice on my casting.¡± Zyra responds to the praise in kind with a smile of her own, which she also flashes to Atticus, watching from the back of the group.

    ¡°Keep it up.¡± The team leader gives an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he passes her to approach the bodies, both now totally without the upper half of their torsos.

 XII. A Promise (Section 2)

    Veros examines the corpses, and notices that they''re dressed in everyday cotton clothing, without any sort of equipment for travel attached to them.

    ¡°It''s highly doubtful such poorly-equipped individuals would make it this far. I think these might not be Mistwalkers, but people who lived around here before the mist appeared.¡± He hypothesizes. The corpses certainly seem decomposed enough to imply that they''ve been dead for quite some time.

    Kellar offers his knowledge on the matter; ¡°Well, last time I checked the map, there''s more villages scattered around as we get closer to Armasstadt.¡±

    ¡°A major contributor to the fact that undead activity rises past the Rosemont line, I''m sure. But at the same time, it might help us in our efforts to seek shelter through the night when we go beyond Terrance. Let''s continue on, then.¡±

    Veros, leaving the two bodies untouched, proceeds north to continue the day''s journey, and the others follow suit.

    Another few miles down the road, Zyra finds herself riding side by side with Royd, creating a rather odd pair among them. Though she actually doesn''t think much of it, the brawny man can''t help but throw occasional glances down the the mage''s arcane bracelet on her right wrist. He furrows his brow with deep curiosity. As a modest woodcutter, it was already quite rare for him to run into mages in his everyday life, but this is the first time he''s been up close to one for an extended period, and her recent display of relative competency has piqued his interest more than ever.

    ¡°Say, Zyra.¡± He strikes up a conversation, which makes the mage jump slightly.

    ¡°Yes?¡± She replies, surprised to hear Royd''s booming voice all of a sudden.

    He continues, slightly straining his face with inquisitive wonder. ¡°I was thinking about the spells you performed earlier. You seem to have gotten better at them. The first time you casted a ball of fire, it look liked you were really forcing yourself, but now they came out quite fast. Now, I don''t know anything about magic other than the most obvious things that could be guessed by common sense, but what exactly changed between then and now?¡±

    ¡°Are you asking how I improved?¡± Zyra asks for clarification, uncertain of what to make of her comrade''s sudden interest in the arcane.

    ¡°Essentially.¡± He replies with a nod. ¡°Like I said, I don''t really know much. I''ve always just assumed the bracelet does the bulk of the work.¡±

    She tilts her head and puts on an expression of clear reluctance, ¡°It''s a bit of a long-winded explanation.¡±

    ¡°That''s fine.¡± The woodcutter immediately offers reassurance. ¡°I''m very curious about this magic business.¡±

    Zyra heaves a small sigh, having not expected to give anyone a lesson on the arcane ¨C especially not Royd. However, she can''t help but be curious at his curiosity, so she ultimately decides to humor him.

    ¡°Well, it''s true that the arcane stones in the bracelet are the source of the power, but actually being able to cast is something else entirely. The most important part of casting is mental clarity, and the hand gesture and incantation come second.¡±

    ¡°So you need the right amount of focus to be able to conjure fire from your hand?¡±

    ¡°Right. The strength of a spell depends on the emotions and intent of the caster, but you need to have enough concentration to control those emotions and channel them into arcane energy by focusing them to your hand, through the bracelet.¡±

    Royd swings his head back in total bewilderment. ¡°Gods, I don''t even know where one could begin learning how to do that.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°It requires many days of practice.¡± Zyra says with a bitter smile, silently recalling her own stressful days of attempting to reach the level of concentration needed to finally cast her first spell. ¡°It''s the first aspect that prevents any random person from putting on a bracelet and throwing out spells. If you don''t have enough focus, you won''t be able to cast, no matter how much you want to. After that, you have the hand gesture and the incantation, both of which work together to perform the correct spell.¡±

    ¡°How exactly do hand gestures come into play here?¡±

    She lifts her own right hand to use it as an example. ¡°Because you''re focusing your emotions and intent to your hand, the bracelet acts as a sort of gateway that turns them into arcane energy that changes form depending on the position of the muscles in your hand. Then when you say the incantation, the energy is released in that form. Incantations also take some practice, because you have to stress the right syllables.¡±

    ¡°Is it possible for a spell to come out without the right gesture or right pronunciation of the incantation?¡± Royd, slowly starting to understand the basics of how arcane casting works, begins to ask more complex questions.

    ¡°If neither of those things are one hundred percent right, then something might still come out, but...¡± She shakes her head in discouragement. ¡°It might come out much weaker ¨C or worse, much stronger than intended. But usually weaker.¡±

    ¡°So you have to focus, make the correct gesture, and then recite the incantation correctly before anything comes out.¡± The brawny warrior reiterates the lesson to himself. ¡°And there''s no way to skip any of those steps?¡±

    She shakes her head again. ¡°Not really.¡± She pauses to conceive a way of better explaining for the benefit of a layman, and is struck with an epiphany. ¡°Someone I know compared the whole process to using a bow and arrow. He said making the hand gesture is like nocking the arrow into the bowstring, then focusing your energy is pulling the string back, and reciting the incantation is finally loosing the arrow. The closest thing to skipping any of it would be doing a silent incantation, where you don''t say the incantation out loud, but rather in your head. But it takes months of practice to master that for just one spell.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating.¡± Royd strokes his chin, hidden under his bushy beard. ¡°And I''ve noticed that you have two stones in your bracelet. Does that mean anything?¡±

    ¡°Oh, yes, it does.¡± She lifts her hand once again to give him a better view of her bracelet and its two embedded red stones. ¡°The more stones a mage has in their bracelet, the more experienced they are and the more advanced spells they''re able to use. At the university, we''re given one at the start of each year, so we graduate with four. After that, if we continue to hone our craft, we can register to take a test for a fifth, which can be as immediate as the day after we graduate. It''s possible to receive a sixth, but you have to be a staff member of the university for a minimum of twenty years to be eligible. Oh, and only people with six stones can be candidates for the position of Grandmaster of the university.¡±

    ¡°The entire culture of magic is a complex one, indeed.¡± Royd stares forward, dumbfounded at the flood of information he just received over the last few minutes. The arcane world is something quite alien to him despite it being a big part of the land he resides in. His occupation rarely has him interact with mages, and because he lives outside of the busiest areas of Evatica, he almost never see them in passing.

    A smile crosses Zyra''s face. ¡°It goes quite a ways deeper, but into places that even I don''t know the details about just yet. But why the sudden interest?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I was just impressed at the power you displayed earlier.¡± Royd answers, snapping out of his bewildered stupor. ¡°If that''s the strength of a two-stone spell, I can''t say I''m not curious as to how mighty a six-stone spell would be.¡±

    Zyra leans closer to him with a mischievous look on her face. ¡°Let''s just say that forbidden spells do exist.¡±

    ¡°Good Gods...¡± The awe-struck woodcutter becomes wide-eyed as his imagination begins to run wild with images of the fearsome power of these forbidden spells.

    ¡°You know, you can attend university if you''d like.¡± The pyromancer decides to encourage him after witnessing his interest first-hand. ¡°There''s no age limit. I know of a current student that''s over sixty years old. He might not live long enough to ever get a sixth stone even if he wanted one, but he''s still there, learning.¡±

    ¡°I can''t say I''m not tempted.¡± Royd replies to her suggestion with a freshly enthusiastic attitude, rubbing his chin again with serious consideration. ¡°I''m a man who does enjoy experiencing new things, and I was given quite a wage while working on the construction of the barrier. I might be able to save up for it reasonably soon.¡±

    ¡°Well, after we complete this journey, you can visit the university and I''ll give you a tour.¡± The mage offers a promise with a welcoming smile.

    ¡°I just might take you up on that, young lady.¡± He eagerly accepts.

 XII. A Promise (Section 3)

    The group continues to ride northward toward the village of Terrance, soon reaching the approximate halfway point of the day''s travel. Yet again, the dark silhouettes of undead can be seen at the very edge of the wall of fog before them.

    ¡°More already?¡± Kellar comments. ¡°Guess the higher undead activity was no exaggeration.¡±

    Two undead soon reveal themselves from the veil of the grey threshold, both only slightly decomposed, with one wearing leather armor, and the other having an empty quiver at its waist.

    ¡°I think these two are Mistwalkers this time.¡± Veros states after noticing their equipment.

    ¡°Wait, what''s that?¡± Kellar interjects, pointing past the two walking corpses to some sort of moving mass on the ground, still shrouded by the mist. It crawls forward slowly, revealing its hand, arm, and eventually its enitre body ¨C a third undead with crushed legs, rendered totally unusable, dragging itself helplessly. It also dons a hard leather cuirass.

    The rogue continues with an expression of pity. ¡°Poor bastard. Probably got trampled somehow.¡±

    The pair of undead still able to walk notice the Mistwalkers ahead of them, and begin to quicken their pace to a near jog.

    ¡°I''ll get rid of these.¡± The black knight volunteers in his slightly coarse voice, already in the middle of dismounting from Annaliese.

    He straps his shield to his arm and bares his blade as he approaches the walking corpses without a hint of fear in his eyes or reluctance in his step. The first that reaches him simply falls forward with its entire weight, but the knight catches it with the face of his shield and promptly pushes back with great force, throwing it off balance. He follows through with a horizontal swing of his sword, precisely aimed at the middle of its neck, slicing it through cleanly in one motion.

    The second undead ¨C with the empty quiver ¨C closes the last bit a distance with a lunge, which the knight simply dodges with a step to the side, making the shambling cadaver fall forward, hardly managing to catch itself with its hands. In the brief moment that it idles on all fours to regain its very limited sense of wherewithal, Atticus lifts his sword and brings it down in a forceful vertical swing that lops the corpse''s head off with utmost ease.

    Finally, he directs his attention to the crawling undead, which made little progress in its pitiful scramble to reach the knight. Atticus walks up to it, switching to a backhanded grip on his blade. The reanimated body weakly seizes his ankles, and in a flash, its head is suddenly pinned to the dirt underneath it by a powerful stab. It goes limp in an instant, and the knight pulls his sword back up, nearly ripping the stiff''s head off along with it.

    ¡°You look as though you''ve been doing this for years already.¡± Veros comments as he rides up, complimenting his teammate''s efficiency and lack of fear.

    The knight sheathes his sword and throws his shield over his back. ¡°Hard to be intimidated by the small stuff again after dealing with that monstrosity yesterday.¡±

    Atticus begins the process of patting down the bodies, starting with the one with crushed legs. He soon pulls a folded, beaten up card from a pant pocket.

    ¡°Wesley Muller.¡± He recites the information on it. ¡°Seventh card. He was quite experienced.¡±

    The knight returns to the second body and repeats the process, eventually finding an equally aged and weathered card in the waist of its snugly fastenened trousers.

    ¡°Martin Sandus.¡± He reads aloud. ¡°Also seventh card.¡±

    Finally, he returns to the first body to perform the search thrice. Not finding anything in the body''s pants or tucked in its boots, Atticus notices the leather armor cuirass is somewhat loose. He reaches into it, discovering the third card in a shirt pocket.

    ¡°Marvin Sandus.¡± He recites, taking a small mental note of the same surname as the previous body. ¡°Seventh card, expected.¡±

    Veros takes a deep breath. ¡°Must''ve been a party. A shame they all met their end. Those two must be related, as well.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Atticus glances between the latter two bodies and their severed heads. While they are necrotic and slightly decomposed, some finer facial qualities can still be distinguished.

    ¡°I think twins, judging by similar frame and faces. And their similar names.¡± He guesses as he hands the cards to Kellar, who at some point became the de facto keeper of all the cards they''ve acquired thus far into their journey.

    ¡°A pair of brothers, huh...¡± Veros softly utters to himself, a dejected expression taking over his face. He stares at the beheaded bodies of two Mistwalkers he never met while they were alive with deep empathy. Numerous thoughts enter his mind, first about multiple members of a family entering the mist, and then how the family left behind must anxiously pray for their safe return. He thinks of mothers, fathers, siblings, and spouses of dead Mistwalkers who are never notified of their loved one''s demise in the grey abyss for days, weeks, or even months, because knowledge of it depends on the retrieval of their cards. Considering this, he furrows his brow slightly, irritated at the miserable situation the people Yhodran have found themselves in.

    ¡°Hey, Veros.¡± Kellar says with a raised voice, snapping the team leader out of his trance. ¡°We continuin'' now?¡±

    ¡°...Yes.¡± The veteran answers after a slight pause, but still doesn''t look away from the bodies until his horse passes them.

    As they leave the corpses behind, Zyra and Atticus are once again riding side by side. Mirroring the previous situation she found herself in with Royd, the tables have turned with her being the one to throw curious glances to her companion. She notices how comfortable he seems to be, especially after seeing him finish off three undead with no effort, as though he''s done it a thousand times already. He maintains an alertness of his surroundings, but also exudes a subtle aura of fearlessness. She curves the corner of her mouth into a half smile.

    ¡°Hey.¡± She casually calls to him.

    ¡°Hm?¡± The knight responds with a curious grunt.

    ¡°You trying to show off?¡± The mage teases lightheartedly.

    Atticus smirks ever-so-slightly. ¡°I could ask the same of you. Want to boast about the progress you''ve made in only a few short days?¡±

    ¡°You know I can''t do that. If I did, then I''d be stroking your ego, too.¡±

    ¡°Well, you did good.¡± He praises her in a softened, encouraging tone, returning the praise she gave him for his advice regarding casting. ¡°I''m glad I was able to help.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, and you were a great one.¡± She reiterates her statement from earlier in the day. ¡°I''m starting to feel comfortable when I cast now. Almost as comfortable as you looked just now.¡±

    ¡°I''m not necessarily comfortable. Just trying to keep my wits about me.¡± He admits. ¡°I don''t think it''s possible to be truly comfortable in this place. Not while it''s like this.¡±

    Zyra looks around at the nigh impenetrable greyness surrounding them. ¡°True. I try to keep my mind off it, but it''s difficult to do that when you have to look at it all the time. I have to remember what Veros said about mental fortitude.¡±

    The knight nods in agreement. ¡°Right. But the occasional distraction can help ease your mind. The baths at Rosemont is a good example.¡±

    She pauses for a moment after being reminded of last night''s discussion in the bath. It was an awkward experience at first, but they soon found enjoyment in each other''s company. However, one specific thing lingers in her mind that she wishes to bring up.

    ¡°Speaking of the bath, I was wondering about something.¡± She slowly starts to bring it up, not knowing if it''s something he''s going to be willing to openly discuss or not. ¡°You have a burn scar on your left shoulder. I was wondering how you got it.¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Atticus is somewhat apprehensive for short instant, but decides to explain anyway. ¡°I was singed by a friend of mine when I was younger while she was trying to practice pyromancy. That''s basically it.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Okay.¡± Zyra takes note of the mild vagueness of his answer and abrupt end to it, and she decides not to press further. However, the mention of a ''she'' again is what stood out the most. Is it the same ''she'' that was mentioned three nights ago? If so, who is this girl, and what''s her relation to Atticus? In the midst of silently asking these questions to herself, she stops to wonder why she cares so much to begin with. Is she just curious about her comrade''s past? She thought that was the case when the question about the scar initially left her mouth, but the mention of this unknown girl again caused her to feel a subtle poke of worry. However, an idea strikes her, and she might have a safe, roundabout way to receive a better idea of who this mystery woman is.

    ¡°If we do manage to accomplish our goal here, do you ever plan on going back to Threcia?¡± She asks carefully, in an unimposing tone.

    ¡°I''m... not sure.¡± He answers with just as much reluctance as with the last question. ¡°It''d be hard. There really isn''t anything there for me anymore.¡±

    Receiving a more unclear answer than before, Zyra is a bit puzzled, but from where she''s standing, his relationship with this woman seems to be over. For a fleeting moment, she feels relieved, but then is hit with the thought of whether it''s appropriate for her to feel that way. She quietly hopes her questions weren''t too invasive, and decides against asking for other details about his past for the time being.

    ¡°But if you want to go...¡± Atticus suddenly continues, catching her off guard. ¡°Then I don''t mind taking you.¡±

    Even though it wasn''t her intent with the question, Zyra is surprised and deeply touched at the acceptance of the request she made nights ago. It takes her a moment to process, but a smile crosses her face from ear to ear.

    ¡°I look forward to it.¡± She expresses her gratitude, attempting to stay composed despite being aflutter.

 XIII. Last Haven (Section 1)

    Another few hours of riding have passed since the last encounter with the undead. As the determined Mistwalkers march forward, a weather-beaten wooden sign emerges from the grey fog. ''TERRANCE, FIVE MILES'' is reads in slightly worn letters.

    ¡°We should be there within the next hour and a half.¡± Veros announces as they pass the sign.

    ¡°It''ll be nice to finally rest a place to rest with a few hours to spare before it gets dark.¡± Kellar comments positively on the shorter distance they had to travel for the day, as they''re used to fifty-mile journeys from checkpoint to checkpoint.

    ¡°Considering the fact our days are becoming shorter due to the mist, we''ll probably have to stick to forty miles per day from now on, at most.¡±

    Kellar twists his face with harsh reluctance. ¡°Doesn''t that mean more days we''d have to ration food for?¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, yes.¡± The team leader admits with a small sigh. ¡°But it''s better than continuing on at night, with near zero visibility.¡±

    Due to the thickness of the fog increasing as they continue north, more and more sunlight is gradually blocked out, making evenings darker sooner. Since they first stepped beyond the barrier, the length of their day has already dropped by over an hour.

    Not much further down the road, yet another pair of dark figures of two undead can seen making its way onto the path.

    ¡°More of them.¡± Veros comments as the halts his horse. ¡°Who wants to take care of these?¡±

    ¡°I''d like to.¡± The low but calm voice of Erik is heard as his horse takes a few steps forward.

    Veros beckons him to proceed. ¡°They''re all yours.¡±

    The quiet noble wastes no time is preparing his bow and grabbing an arrow from the full quiver at his back. He nocks it into his bowstring, and takes aim at one of the shambling corpses ahead. Before he looses the arrow, a strange sight happens. Both undead suddenly fall over limply at the spot they were standing, hitting the ground with thuds nearly at the same time. Confused, the archer lets his bowstring retract and drops his aim.

    ¡°What the...¡± He softly utters under his breath.

    Veros suddenly points deeper into the colorless abyss. ¡°Look!¡±

    The Mistwalkers look into the fog, spotting two tall shapes beyond the now unmoving remains of the two corpses. They''re approaching slowly, with the sound of soft thumps accompanying them. Soon the mist clears just enough to make out vague details of a horse, but once they reach the boundary of visibility, they stop.

    ¡°Are you Mistwalkers?!¡± A masculine voice coming from one of the two riders asks in an authoritative yell to cover the distance.

    ¡°We are!¡± Veros answers.

    ¡°How many are you?!¡±

    ¡°Six!¡±

    The two riders decide to slowly proceed forward and approach the group, revealing themselves. One is a man with long, wavy black hair down to his shoulders. He has a thick goatee, but his cheeks, jaw, and upper neck are veiled in untamed scruff. He''s in a heavily weathered iron cuirass and equipped with a bow, quiver, broadsword, and shield. The other is a woman with very short, dirty blonde hair, donning as much equipment as the man is.

    ¡°I guess you''re making your way to Terrance, then?¡± The unknown man asks.

    ¡°We are.¡± Veros answers, slightly on guard. ¡°Are you from there?¡±

    The man nods. ¡°We are. My name''s Vincent. This is my wife, Misha. We currently reside in the fortified Terrance, and we do daily patrols in the afternoon. We come about five miles down, killing any undead we see, then return.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°I''m Veros, and this is my team. We''re looking to hole up in Terrance for the night.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you plan on continuing north tomorrow, then? If you only cared about the Mistwalker wage, you''d have returned south after reaching Rosemont.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we do.¡±

    After hearing that immediate confirmation, Vincent examines the group he just met, sizing them up and quietly pondering their capabilities.

    ¡°Alright. We''ll escort you.¡± He eventually responds after a moment. ¡°Follow us.¡±

    Vincent and Misha turn their horses around and begin to lead the Mistwalkers north. As they approach the two undead they shot with arrows, Misha quickly dismounts her horse, relinquishes the arrows from the skulls of the corpses, and mounts again with the finesse of someone who''s done it dozens of times by now.

    ¡°How many cards are you on?¡± Vincent asks aloud without turning around.

    ¡°This is our first sortie.¡± Veros responds.

    The surprising answer causes Vincent to turn his head. ¡°Really? Made it this far on your first time? Quite impressive. It took Misha and I three cards to build up the nerve to go past the Rosemont line.¡±

    ¡°How long ago was that?¡±

    ¡°About a month and a half ago. We reached Terrance and decided to stay.¡±

    Veros furrows his brow a bit. ¡°You haven''t gone back to the gates since then?¡±

    ¡°We have.¡± Vincent nods. ¡°Every four weeks we make our way down, collect payment, and come back up.¡±

    ¡°If you don''t mind me asking,¡± The veteran, more curious than ever, poses a question. ¡°What''s your motivation for staying here?¡±

    Vincent takes a deep breath and shifts in his saddle, trying to think of a short explanation. ¡°Well, to make a long story short, we didn''t have much of a life in Evatica, so we decided to make ourselves useful to the cause. You know, it may be dangerous, but it''s an underrated benefit that as long as this place is shrouded in the mist, you essentially get paid to live out here, tax-free. Not that I want the mist to exist forever, but I''m certainly going to take advantage while it''s here.¡±

    ¡°Couldn''t you accomplish the same thing by living in one of the abandoned villages right next to the barrier?¡± Veros asks, interested in poking the brain of people who actually live in the misted region.

    ¡°Not necessarily. We wouldn''t get the bonus for visiting every checkpoint that way, and the people who only sign up for Mistwalker duty to loot would be trying to break into our house every day. Frankly, that would be far more annoying than dealing with undead.¡±

    Veros quietly considers it a very risky way to live, but if it''s truly what they consider to be the best option for themselves, then who is he to judge? If they''re competent and self-reliant, they really could live out their days in the mist with no issue and receive a wage for doing so. At the end of the day, they''re still following the rules established by the crown for the Mistwalker initiative. If the mist ever does go away, hopefully by the deeds of Veros''s own team, then they''ll have saved up quite a nest egg from Mistwalker pay. Again, a risky way to live, but potentially very rewarding if you know what you''re doing.

    About an hour of quiet riding passes, and the road soon leads to the shape of a giant, transparent dome, with a chest-high gate and ten-foot tall palisades immediately within its borders.

    ¡°An arcane barrier?¡± Kellar, wide-eyed, exclaims what everyone in the group is thinking. ¡°How the hell do you have one of those?¡±

    ¡°We''ll let the chief explain all that to you once you''re inside.¡± Vincent answers bluntly.

    ¡°Whoa, there.¡± The group is stopped by a guard at the gate allowing entrance into the village proper. ¡°Picked up some Mistwalkers on your patrol, Vincent?¡±

    Vincent nods to his colleague. ¡°I did. They''re heading north tomorrow. The chief''s still in, right?¡±

    ¡°Yup. Stayed in today.¡± The guard replies. ¡°You can head on in.¡±

    He turns to unlock the gate and push it open wide enough for the horses to walk through in a single-file line. Once within the walls of the village, Veros and company look around and notice that the barrier doesn''t reach as far the ones at the Legion checkpoints, but is enough to cover the entire mid-south section of the village. Additionally, the palisades line the interior side of the transparent boundary, providing extra safety to the people inside.

    ¡°Manor''s this way.¡± Vincent beckons the group to follow him a bit further.

    As they slowly make their way towards the center of the fortified area, the group notices that everything seems to be well maintained, as though this particular part of Terrance had been completely untouched by the unknown miasma plaguing everything else around it. A handful of other Mistwalkers are seen going about their day, doing normal daily chores that any villager might be caught doing. Needless to say, the six journeyers are surprised to see such a functional, though small community this far north.

    ¡°We''re here.¡± Vincent speaks up again, snapping the others out of their fascination.

    He and Misha dismount their horses and hitch them to a post in front of a very large house. The others follow suit, and are guided inside, where the first thing they see is a great hall with a long table centered in the middle of the room underneath a grand chandelier made from deer horns. At the opposite end of the hall is two large chairs on an elevated platform, overseeing the entire room. Unfortunately, no one else is there.

    ¡°She''s probably in the back.¡± Misha speaks for the first time, revealing a voice that''s slightly coarse for a woman, but also quite soothing all the same. ¡°I''ll go get her.¡±

    She walks through the room and crosses an open doorway beside the two wooden thrones on the platform.

 XIII. Last Haven (Section 2)

    ¡°Hard to believe a place can still look so nice this far north.¡± Veros can''t help but comment on how neat and tightly-run everything is. Now he truly understands why Vincent and Misha don''t mind living in the misted region. Anyone would do the same if they were guaranteed both safety and a home like this, tax-free.

    ¡°The chief''s a tidy person.¡± Vincent replies, looking around the finely-decorated room, admiring it as well despite seeing it many times already. ¡°Bit of a slave driver, too.¡±

    ¡°Who''s a slave driver?¡± An unknown voice interrupts. Misha returns from the rooms behind the thrones with a middle-aged woman in exquisite, embroidered black robes and a green cape and hood. She has salt and pepper hair that reaches her shoulders, and light brown eyes. She radiates an elegant yet authoritative aura that doesn''t necessarily demand respect, but rather firmly suggests it.

    ¡°Just making small talk, chief.¡± Vincent answers while straightening his posture.

    The woman glances at the six new faces in her building. ¡°Are these new guests?¡± She asks as a welcoming smile crosses her face.

    ¡°Yes, just for the night. They aim to continue north tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°In that case, let''s get the introductions out of the way now so we can get them settled in.¡± The elder lady steps forward and offers her hand first to Veros. ¡°My name''s Lena Eudenwulf. I''m in charge of Terrance for the time being.¡±

    The veteran courteously accepts her hand and shakes it. ¡°I''m Veros Quintum.¡± He introduces himself stiffly, as if Lena''s almost-royal presence forces him into old, rigid habits from his Legion days. She proceeds to the next person.

    ¡°Kellar Weylan, ma''am.¡± The rogue politely greets her in a manner that''s quite out of character.

    ¡°Royd Darvenson.¡± The bulky woodcutter says in a voice softer than his usual, booming talking volume.

    ¡°Erik Rocheford, m''lady.¡± The noble introduces himself in a sophisticated manner that he''s no doubt used to performing, giving a slight bow as he clasps her hand. The chief proceeds to the next person.

    ¡°Zyra Wedwick.¡± The mage says meekly.

    ¡°You''re a pyromancer, Zyra?¡± Lena asks with enthusiasm, noticing the pupil''s cape and bracelet.

    Zyra nods. ¡°I am. My second year starts soon.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± The woman slightly narrows her eyes and looks down at the bracelet again. She seems to want to make a remark, but decides to leave it for now. She approaches the last person in the group.

    ¡°Atticus Dayne, ma''am.¡± The black-clad knight greets her with the same, somewhat rough voice and stoic demeanor he usually speaks in.

    ¡°A Threcian royal knight?¡± She comments, puzzled at his presence as she grasps his hand. ¡°I''ve never seen this armor in person before.¡±

    She closely examines the iron he''s wearing, taking notice of as many tiny scrapes, dents, and general signs of age and usage. She admires the finer details of its form as if it were a painting. Atticus doesn''t say anything more, assuming her fascination is the usual curiosity displayed by most people who see him in that armor.

    Lena steps back to end the introductions. ¡°Well, you''re quite an interesting collection of individuals. I''d love to ask you all about yourselves and your journey so far, but I''m sure you''d rather be directed to a bed and some food first. Vincent and Misha here will take you to the guesthouse where you can claim your rooms. The eatery is nearby, too. I was planning on heading there soon for dinner, myself.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°What of our horses, ma''am?¡± Veros politely interjects.

    ¡°We have a stable you can take them to. There''s hay and water troughs there. Now, go ahead get yourselves settled in. I''ll be in the eatery soon to chat with you.¡±

    Vincent gives a playfully sarcastic salute to his superior. ¡°Yes, ma''am. Follow us, folks.¡±

    He and Misha turn and lead the group back outside. They rigidly march out the door, still affected by Lena''s intimidating aura. As they go, Zyra looks back to catch a short glimpse at her robes, quietly noting their familiar style. Outside, they cross the road to two nearby houses standing right next to each other.

    Vincent points to the first one and offers a succinct description of it. ¡°House to the left is the guesthouse, has three rooms with two cots in each, so pick your roommates amongst yourselves.¡± He points to the second and recites its purpose with equal lack of enthusiasm. ¡°Then the right is the eatery, where you can pick your meals similar to how you do in the Legion checkpoints. That''s pretty much all. Oh, and the stable she mentioned is behind the village hall, to the northeast.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. We appreciate the help you''ve given us today.¡± Veros gives his gratitude.

    Vincent shakes his head. ¡°No problem. I''m used to doing this sort of thing. I''ll see you all at dinner in a bit.¡± He and Misha depart, leaving the group to take care of things for themselves.

    ¡°Well, shall we?¡± Kellar is the first to step into the guesthouse, beckoning the others to come with him.

    Inside is as they expected, the interior of a normal home repurposed into an inn-like shelter for Mistwalkers who stay short term. The living room, which holds two cots as they were told, doesn''t offer much in terms of privacy, but it''s the most spacious and has the fire pit.

    ¡°I''ll sleep in here.¡± Royd claims one of the cots, which is sitting directly underneath a window next the door.

    ¡°Me too.¡± Veros claims the second cot, which is pressed up against the adjacent wall at the furthest end of the room.

    The other four proceed across the living room, entering a short hallway that leads to the remaining two rooms that are facing each other. They''re both about equal in terms of size.

    ¡°Not much of a difference between ''em.¡± Kellar remarks as he enters the western room and sits on one the cots. Erik silently joins him, claiming the other.

    ¡°Well, this is a lot better than those cramped broom closets back at Zenith Gate.¡± Zyra comments as she claims one of the cots in the eastern room. With only one left in the whole house to take, Atticus sits on the final cot next to the young mage''s.

    ¡°Did you notice?¡± She speaks up, looking at the knight with a curious gaze. ¡°She''s wearing a university teacher''s robes.¡±

    ¡°Teachers wear those?¡± He responds, recalling the fancy stitching and embroidery. They were certainly eye-catching, and less obnoxiously extravagant than the blue robes seen on the monks.

    The pyromancer nods. ¡°Yes. And she had a green cape, which means she practices healing and physiological magic.¡±

    Atticus thinks back to the moment he shook Lena''s hand and realizes a crucial detail. ¡°She didn''t have a bracelet on, though. Isn''t that a bit odd?¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Zyra ponders. ¡°It''s not like we''re obligated to keep them on all day, although it''d be a poor decision not to do that out here.¡±

    ¡°Have you seen her around campus before?¡±

    She shakes her head.¡°No, I haven''t. But that''s not uncommon. The university is massive and different years are divided into different sections. It''s very possible to go your first three years without ever knowing some of the fourth year teachers even exist.¡±

    ¡°So she''s not a first year teacher, then?¡±

    ¡°Definitely not. I would have known her, or at least heard about a first year teacher leaving to become a Mistwalker.¡±

    Atticus pauses for a moment to consider the lack of information. Outside of her clothing, there''s no way to really confirm that she''s a mage at the moment. She could have acquired those robes elsewhere. However, the knight realizes the irony of this train of thought, considering how often people assume he stole his own armor.

    ¡°Well, she seemed to show a bit of interest in you when she noticed you were a mage, too.¡± He comments. ¡°Perhaps you can ask her about it at dinner?¡±

    ¡°That''s true.¡± Zyra suddenly becomes somewhat perked up. ¡°I honestly never thought I''d run into another mage out here. Until now, you were the closest to that, but you''re out of practice.¡±

    The knight smirks and exhales sharply through his nose in a quiet scoff. ¡°This out-of-practice pyromancer helped you with your casting, you know.¡±

    ¡°I know, I''m just teasing.¡± She responds with a smile.

    Atticus pushes himself up to his feet. ¡°Well, we should bring our horses to the stable and get ready for dinner.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Zyra stands up and the two leave the room to collect the others and proceed with their errands before going to the eatery for a meal.

 XIII. Last Haven (Section 3)

    Later, after the horses are brought to the stable and given their own hay to eat, and the Mistwalkers have changed into more comfortable cotton clothes to shed the weight of their armor and weapons, they''re finally able to enter the eatery for a much-deserved dinner. Inside is hustling and bustling with presumably every Mistwalker who resides in Terrance. Much like the guesthouse, the eatery is a repurposed home originally meant to simply house a family. Now, however, the living room is lined with tables along the walls, stools around the fire pit ¨C where some are cooking their own meat ¨C and one additional, long table table in the middle, where Lena is seen at the furthest end.

    She cheerfully beckons them. ¡°Please, grab your food and join me.¡±

    Having no reason to refuse or really be apprehensive, the six journeyers comply. They each grab a plate and assemble various foods of their choice on it. Though Terrance isn''t a Legion checkpoint, it still manages to have a respectable amount of food available, though admittedly slightly less than Rosemont. After collecting their meal, they join Lena at her table, where she invites them to sit directly next to her. Atticus and Zyra sit across from each other, perpendicular to Lena. Next to them are Veros and Kellar, then Royd and Erik, respectively.

    ¡°I hope you find your rooms in the guesthouse suitable to your needs.¡± The chief cordially welcomes them again, continuing their discussion from earlier.

    ¡°It''s a very nice house.¡± Veros states. ¡°We''ll have no issue making ourselves comfortable.¡±

    ¡°It''s been nothin'' but tents and bedrolls for us the last several days.¡± Kellar gripes. ¡°Sleepin'' in a cot in an actual home is a very welcome change of pace.¡±

    Royd nods in agreement. ¡°Aye. Not as big of a change as the baths at Rosemont, but close.¡± He looks up at Lena with hopeful eyes and speaks in a soft tone. ¡°I don''t suppose you have baths here, too?¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry, Sir Darvenson.¡± Lena shakes her head, but is charmed by his almost child-like desire. ¡°We don''t have baths available here like Rosemont does, I''m afraid. The closest body of water is Lake Tyrmith, and it''s twelve miles away.¡±

    ¡°Oh...¡± Royd hangs his head in utter defeat.

    ¡°You have more food here than I anticipated, I must admit.¡± Veros interjects, still surprised at the volume of fruit, vegetables, bread, and meat available despite Terrance lacking official support from the crown.

    She gazes over at the long counter of foods, too. ¡°Captain Roderick helps when we can by giving us a portion of Emergency Corps provision deliveries, including ice arcane stones to keep them cool. But we also have tiny farms ourselves, near the edge of the fortified area. Sadly, things are rather slow to grow thanks to the limited sunlight they receive under the veil of the fog.¡± Lena looks over the group and leans forward. ¡°But don''t let that distract you from your meals. Please, eat.¡±

    The group doesn''t hesitate to oblige, scarfing down their food with expressions of relief. Atticus also begins his feast while letting his eyes casually wander around the room. He notices most of the other Mistwalkers who live in Terrance seem to be paying no mind to their guests ¨C a good thing, as this likely means their overnight stay isn''t unwelcome. The knight turns his head to the opposite side of the room, behind Lena''s chair, where an unlit corner of discarded items rest, presumably remnants of the family who lived in this home prior to the mist''s arrival. It''s mostly spare stools and fire logs, but tucked away underneath them is something that catches his attention: a baby''s cradle, used now to hold small twigs for kindling. The tiny wooden bed causes him to stop eating and leer at it for a pronounced moment. None of the others at the table notice his odd behavior, as they''re all busy focusing on the food in front of them, until Zyra lifts to her head. Like a considerate neighbor wondering if her companion is enjoying himself, she looks up at him to see how he finds his dinner, but catches his frozen, blank expression directed to the uninteresting part of the room. She follows his line of sight to the partially-obscured cradle, and, puzzled, looks back at him with inquisitive eyes.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Zyra, was it?¡± Lena suddenly speaks to the young pyromancer, who snaps out of her gaze at Atticus, who also snaps out of his own gaze at the cradle.

    ¡°Yes, ma''am.¡± Zyra stiffly responds.

    ¡°Please, no need to call me ''ma''am''. Just ''Lena'' is fine.¡± The chief reassures the timid mage with a warm smile.

    ¡°But, aren''t you a teacher? At the university?¡± Zyra returns, hesitant to even bring it up.

    ¡°I was.¡± Lena immediately answers with a dignified nod. ¡°But I decided some months ago that I wanted to do something to assist with the Mistwalker initiative.¡±

    The pyromancer glances at her host''s right wrist. ¡°If you don''t mind me asking, where''s your bracelet?¡±

    ¡°It''s back in the manor.¡± Again, Lena answers with no reluctance or vagueness. ¡°What do you think powers the arcane barrier around Terrance?¡±

    Clear bewilderment washes over Zyra''s face. ¡°But don''t you need a six-stone bracelet to convert into a barrier source?¡±

    Lena looks into the pupil''s eyes and wordlessly nods her head with a sly smile. The young mage soon comes to the realization.

    ¡°You have a six-stone bracelet?!¡± She almost yells in surprise. Zyra is flabbergasted that the person looking over Terrance, in such a dangerous area of the misty region, is not only a university teacher, but a potential candidate for Grandmaster, as well. ¡°Why are you out here?¡±

    The chief still smiles, touched at her guest''s burst of curiosity. ¡°As I said, I just want to help my fellow man. It''s something important to me.¡± She leans back and slightly narrows her eyes. ¡°I think it makes more sense for a six-stone mage to be out here than a two-stone one.¡± She says in a tone that''s not necessarily judgemental, but interested.

    Suddenly feeling insecure, Zyra looks down as her own bracelet. ¡°I came out here to improve. Even though I''m a second year, my casting ability was terrible, so I figured the best way to become better quickly was to put myself under pressure.¡±

    ¡°And have you become better in the time you''ve been out here?¡±

    Zyra nods. ¡°I have.¡±

    Lena shrugs. ¡°If it works, it works. My inner teacher thinks it might be ill-conceived, though.¡±

    ¡°I didn''t do it on my own.¡± The pyromancer continues, glancing at the knight across the table.

    ¡°Ah, I see.¡± The chief has a small epiphany. ¡°It would indeed make a lot of sense to find pyromancy advice from a Threcian.¡±

    ¡°It wasn''t planned, actually.¡± Zyra admits. ¡°We just ran into him by circumstance.¡± She smiles, this time at Atticus, who gives a small smile back.

    ¡°Atticus, right?¡± Lena turns her attention to the knight. ¡°I don''t recall seeing a bracelet on you. Are you a current practitioner?¡±

    ¡°I''m not.¡± He admits matter-of-factly. ¡°I did learn pyromancy when I was younger, but I simply traded my bracelet for a sword and shield. I''m a bit out of practice.¡±

    ¡°Don''t be so modest.¡± Zyra interjects. ¡°You said the same thing to me right before you did a silent incantation. You''re still quite good.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like Zyra was lucky to find you.¡± Lena comments, impressed to hear of Atticus''s feat. He doesn''t reply, opting instead to ever-so-slightly smile and nod, stiffly accepting her compliment. ¡°So...¡± Lena continues, shifting her focus to the whole group. ¡°You all plan on continuing your journey in the morning, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma''am.¡± Veros answers.

    ¡°You sure you don''t want to stay an extra night?¡±

    Veros shakes his head. ¡°It''s probably best if we keep our momentum going. But, if you don''t mind, I was wondering if you had information you could share ¨C anything of the road ahead? Have you sent scouts further north at some point?¡±

    ¡°I''ve sent some scouting parties before, yes.¡± Lena responds, her face shifting to a somewhat grim expression. ¡°I had intended on hopefully fortifying another village.¡±

    ¡°Let me guess...¡± Kellar interrupts. ¡°They never came back?¡±

    The chief shakes her head. ¡°Almost. Two came back. They were part of our most recent attempts at expand northward.¡±

    Veros leans forward, intrigued. ¡°What did they discover, if anything?¡±

    ¡°They said they were ambushed by undead, as you might expect.¡± Lena recites the details she was told with blunt delivery. ¡°But something was different about the undead further north. They were more aggressive. Smarter.¡±

    The team leader''s curiosity turns into confusion. ¡°Smarter? In what way?¡±

    ¡°I''m sure the undead you''ve encountered so far have mostly been mindless husks who limp and lunge at you after flailing around without any rhyme or reason, correct? At most, some have possibly had the capacity to still run?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Veros, not knowing where the conversation is heading, just nods with his confirmation.

    ¡°Well, according to my surviving scouts, things get a bit more complicated further north. The undead up there don''t just shamble towards you and swing their limbs daintily. They use weapons. They fight. They think.¡±

    The group falls silent, unsure of what to make of these claims. They all look back and forth at each other, trying to parse how literal her statements are.

 XIII. Last Haven (Section 4)

    ¡°You''re saying that the undead up north are capable of fighting like living men despite still being undead?¡± Veros, perplexed, asks for further clarification.

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Lena nods solemnly. ¡°They wield swords and shields. They use bows. For all the I know, they might even be able to still use magic.¡±

    Again, the six Mistwalkers become quietly pensive. Such news was not something they were anticipating. They''re not even sure if they should believe her, even though she''s been a hospitable host who''s given no reason to draw suspicion thus far. However, considering the massive brute they encountered the other day, they''ve already seen an undead who can wield weapons, but they simply thought he was a special case.

    Lena continues. ¡°I know you''re reluctant to take my word for it, and I can''t offer proof other than the word of my own scouts. I''m not trying to convince you to return to the barrier, either. I simply want you to hear what I''ve heard. You deserve to, especially if you''re continuing north.¡±

    Veros, still blindsided by the sudden information and shift in expectations, forces out a reply. ¡°We appreciate you telling us this. It''s better to know of these new enemies going forward rather than be surprised. However, would it be possible to talk to these scouts themselves? Are they still in Terrance?¡±

    ¡°They are.¡± The chief answers with a nod. ¡°Unfortunately, they''re late to dinner, but they oftentimes are. I''m sure they''ll be here any minute now.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°In the meantime, please continue your meal.¡± She urges them to finish their plates, and the group wastes no time in complying. However, their demeanor isn''t as enthusiastic as it was when they first began eating. Caught off guard by the revelation of more intelligent, dangerous undead waiting for them beyond Terrance, they''ve shrouded themselves in second thoughts regarding the progression of their quest towards Armasstadt. Veros, especially, is beginning to come around on the idea of staying in Terrance an extra night to give the team an opportunity to get adequate rest and prepare themselves for the road ahead. The more he thinks about it, the more impatient he becomes to get information out of the surviving scouts.

    As the group nears the end of their dinner, the Mistwalker residents of Terrance also start finishing theirs. They begin to walk outside, one by one, stacking their plates on the table nearest to the door for eventual washing. Slowly, the eatery becomes emptied out of third parties, leaving Lena and the six guests by themselves. However, before the awkward silence becomes too overbearing, the door swings open again, and two residents enter: Vincent and Misha.

    Lena sighs, annoyed by the current circumstances. ¡°About time. You''re far later than you usually are.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, chief.¡± Misha apologizes. ¡°We lost track of time.¡±

    ¡°Hurry and grab your plates.¡± Lena orders. ¡°You have something important to discuss with our guests.¡±

    Vincent sighs. ¡°I figured we''d have to talk about this when they said they were going all the way to Armasstadt.¡± His tone is rather aloof despite the topic. The couple gather their food and sit at the same table as the others, occupying the last two seats at the end that''s opposite Lena.

    Vincent continues. ¡°So, you want to know about the undead up the road, huh?¡± He asks almost dismissively while taking the first bite of his dinner. It''s doubtful this is the first time he''s had to talk about it.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Veros replies, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward intently. ¡°What did you two see up there?¡±

    Vincent turns to Misha. ¡°You mind taking it this time?¡±

    She nods. ¡°Sure.¡± She turns back to the group. ¡°Sorry, chief has us tell this story every time a Mistwalker passes through with the intent of continuing north.¡±

    ¡°I''m only trying to minimize casualties.¡± Lena interjects matter-of-factly. ¡°I don''t want others dying due to a lack of information when I probably could have prevented it. Go on.¡± She urges Misha to continue.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    She begins her recollection while her husband eats casually. ¡°Not long after Vincent and I arrived, we volunteered to be part of a scouting party going north in order to find another village to fortify. We were already told about the last scouting party not coming back, but we figured we''d do alright, since we made it this far already without any issues.¡±

    ¡°How big was your scouting party?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°There were five of us. Everyone was pretty experienced with dealing with the dangers of the mist already. I don''t think any of us were really afraid to take the job. Our destination was the village of Arrenstead, which is about thirty-five miles north. We were just about the reach it until we saw a rider on a horse off in the distance, shrouded in the mist. We assumed it was another Mistwalker, but when we approached, we noticed they were undead. Very undead. Most of its flesh had fallen off its body, and it was damn near just bones. And it was riding.¡±

    ¡°Was the horse undead too?¡± Kellar interrupts with curious, but also deeply concerned expression.

    Misha nods. ¡°It was. The horse was also necrotic, its skin grey and dry. Most of its mane had been shed. It was hideous. The rider wasn''t alone. It was leading a small group of other armed undead, about eight to ten more ¨C didn''t really have time to count. Some of them had bows and loosed arrows upon us. One of our men was hit right in the eye; he fell dead instantly. Another hit Vincent right under the collarbone.¡±

    Vincent raises his head from his meal. ¡°About two more inches up and to the right, and it would''ve got me square in the throat.¡±

    Misha continues. ¡°We immediately turned and ran. There was no way we were anticipating such an enemy, and we don''t know for sure if they expected us, but it sure looked as if they did. The ones with swords tried to rush us, but we were able to outpace them. Unfortunately, the ones with bows got the better of two more men. I didn''t see how they fell, but after a couple miles, when I finally turned my head to see who was still there, it was just Vincent.¡±

    ¡°Ned got two in the back and fell off his horse.¡± Vincent describes the violent details that Misha couldn''t cover, without putting his fork down. ¡°Arrin got swiped on the neck and bled out, then fell off his horse.¡± He resumes eating.

    ¡°We came back to Terrance, told the chief about what happened, and got Vincent healed up. We haven''t sent another scouting party since then.¡±

    ¡°I got a question.¡± Kellar interjects again, his face twisted in sheer bewilderment. ¡°Why the hell are you two still here? Any normal person would''ve taken that as a sign to go back south and stay there.¡±

    ¡°We told you why, already.¡± Vincent answers. ¡°We live out here for free and get a wage for doing it, plus offer a service to Mistwalkers who actually want to continue north.¡±

    ¡°We''re stubborn.¡± Misha suddenly gives a more concise answer, almost proud of their bullheadedness.

    Veros, looking sligthly anxious, asks a question to whoever can answer. ¡°Have these intelligent undead ever come south? Have they tried to attack Terrance?¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡± Lena responds. ¡°Strangely, none have come south enough for anyone here to encounter one. They seem to have little interest in coming down here. For now.¡± She leans forward, her eyes growing more intense. ¡°But now that you know of these smarter undead, I want to urge you again to stay one extra night here and deliberate amongst yourselves about how to proceed. I know you don''t want to stay long enough for your determination to be shaken, but I truly believe that holding off for one extra day can benefit you.¡±

    Veros looks down at the table, then up at his comrades, who look about as unsure as he does. He looks directly to Atticus. ¡°What do you think?¡± He asks, seeking some sort of safety line.

    The knight ponders for a moment, looking down at his now empty plate. He silently weighs the benefits of rushing north versus an extra day''s rest, soon concluding that no matter how he views it, the smarter choice is obvious. After the pensive pause, he lifts his head again.

    ¡°Make haste slowly.¡± He says with confidence. ¡°Nothing good comes from sacrificing diligence for speed. I say we wait.¡±

    Veros takes one more look around the table and sees no expression of disagreement on anyone''s faces. ¡°Very well.¡± The team leader announces. ¡°We''ll stay an extra day.¡±

    Lena leans back and heaves a small sigh of relief. ¡°Thank the Gods.¡± She utters under her breath. ¡°It''s not uncommon for other Mistwalkers eager to play hero to continue north at the soonest possible opportunity, despite so few reaching it this far to begin with. They think passing the Rosemont line is as bad as it gets.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Veros nods. ¡°Complacency is the first step towards making a crucial mistake.¡±

    ¡°I''m glad you see where I''m coming from.¡± Lena smiles warmly, happy that she was able to prevent the group from leaping into unknown dangers too soon. She stands up, preparing to leave the table. ¡°Now, I won''t keep you all to myself. Please, do as you will here, in Terrance. Consider it your home for the duration of your stay. I''ll be at the manor should anyone need me.¡±

    Veros stands as well, unable to not show courtesy to his host. ¡°Thank you, Lena.¡± He bows slightly. She returns it, and exits the eatery.

 XIV. Confessions (Section 1)

    Later the same night, the six Mistwalkers are huddled around the fire pit, which houses a small flame not unlike the humble bonfires they''ve grown accustomed to building when staying at the Legion checkpoints. No doubt they have a lot on their minds now since the shocking new information brought to them about the dangers they could face further north. The existence of smarter undead that act and fight like living men ¨C riding undead horses, adeptly using weapons such as swords and bows ¨C it was an intimidating idea that threw the journeyers for a loop.

    They all gaze blankly at the dancing fire, their heads swimming with thoughts of what to do next and if they should continue at all. They had agreed on an extra day of rest at Terrance to deliberate on their approach, but what is there to discuss about an enemy they can''t see coming thanks to the existence of the impenetrable colorless fog? With their current limited resources, the only plausible way to proceed is to simply increase caution and try to adapt on the fly to whatever troubles befall them. It''s a harsh truth that they must come to terms with before the mission can continue.

    ¡°I''m finally startin'' to realize the real danger we''re in.¡± Kellar suddenly remarks, his face giving way to an expression of deep hopelessness. He had always been the first to suggest the avoidance of confrontation, but only as a means of guaranteeing survival. Now, with much more threatening enemies in store for them, he isn''t sure if running away would be a safe option, either. ¡°When we first came out here, I was real scared of dyin''. Real damn scared. But as we made more progress, I started to feel a bit more confident. After the Levinburg incident, then getting'' ambushed by those ashen bodies, then fightin'' that big bastard before Rosemont, I thought we''d be just fine. Now I''m not so sure. It feels like things just keep gettin'' worse.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Veros responds empathetically, understanding the sense of dread Kellar feels. ¡°It''s hard to swallow. There''s only six of us, and we don''t have many resources at our disposal.¡±

    ¡°Should we turn back?¡± Zyra asks, bringing her gaze up from the fire to look around at the faces of her comrades.

    Veros shakes his head. ¡°As frightened as I am to continue, I think I''m more frightened of running away. I want to help Yhordran more than anything, especially since the crown doesn''t seem to want the same. I don''t know if we''re destined to be the ones to save the land, but if we turn around, then we might as well have not tried at all.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd nods slowly in agreement. ¡°I have friends and family whose lives have been ruined by this plague. It hurts my heart seeing their faces, so glum and hopeless.¡±

    Veros looks around the room at his teammates. ¡°We all have our reasons for being here. I think now''s the time to truly decide on whether they''re enough for each of you to continue.¡±

    ¡°I already know.¡± Royd interjects. ¡°Someone''s bound to reach Armasstadt and stop this mist, and we won''t know if it''s us until we try.¡±

    Kellar clicks his tongue and shakes his head. ¡°Sounds like something every poor bastard told themselves before dying.¡±

    ¡°Maybe so.¡± The brawny man continues. ¡°But they were still closer to succeeding than anyone who gave up halfway.¡±

    ¡°But wouldn''t you rather fail and be alive than fail and be dead?¡± The agitated rogue fires back.

    ¡°If everyone thought that way, then nothing with risks would ever get done.¡± Royd responds with equal aggression. ¡°You were a mercenary, weren''t you?¡±

    Kellar nods lightly. ¡°Yeah, I was. So?¡±

    ¡°Then you of all people should realize that every time you succeeded at something, you did so because you had the drive to not stop in the middle. A mission can have many failures, but it only needs one success to be finished. This mission in particular just has higher stakes than normal.¡±

    Kellar laughs mixed with a sigh. ¡°You really don''t know when to give up.¡±

    ¡°I don''t.¡± Royd proclaims with a smile. ¡°That''s why I want to continue.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Me too.¡± A rarely-heard voice makes itself known. Erik looks up at Royd with commitment in his eyes. ¡°I want to continue, as well. My father said I lack ambition. If I quit now, it would prove him right. It would be admitting that I wasn''t invested enough to keep going.¡±

    ¡°That makes three of us willing to continue north.¡± Veros declares. ¡°Anyone else?¡±

    ¡°Let me sleep on it, will ya?¡± Kellar complains.

    ¡°I won''t force out an answer right this instant.¡± Veros says as he looks at the three who have yet to make a decision ¨C Kellar, Atiicus, and Zyra. ¡°If you need to sleep on it, you can do so. But you''ll need to make a choice by this time tomorrow night.¡± The three quietly nod in response. Veros continues. ¡°Alright. Let''s call it a night here and head to bed.¡±

    The group extinguishes the small flame in the fire pit and goes to their respective rooms. In the eastern bedroom, where Atticus and Zyra are, the two lie restlessly in their cots, rattling their brains with thoughts of the future, their mortality, Yhordran, and the mist. For the knight, a lot of Royd''s words held true and sparked an internal reexamination of his quest for meaning, in a good way. Something about the brawny woodcutter''s lecture somewhat eased the knight''s mind about the circumstances of his past that motivated him to abandon his home in the first place. The pyromancer, however, isn''t as self-assured.

    ¡°Are you still awake?¡± Zyra''s softens her voice to a near whisper.

    ¡°I am.¡± Atticus replies, nearly at his normal speaking volume.

    Zyra, now knowing that her companion is still conscious, sits up in her cot. ¡°I only wanted to become a Mistwalker so I could improve my casting, and I''ve more or less already accomplished that. I feel like I would overstay my welcome if I continued north with the others.¡±

    ¡°Is that the only reason?¡± He turns his head while still lying down to face the mage.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°That may be the initial reason you came into the mist, but you haven''t gained any new ones since then?¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Zyra ponders. ¡°I do want to save Yhordran, of course. I also want to discover the source of the mist. And I''d... I''d also feel horrible if I left and none of you came back. I''d spend the rest of my life wondering if I could''ve prevented it.¡±

    ¡°I''d say those are all reasons enough to continue.¡± The knight states bluntly.

    Zyra turns in her bed, bringing her legs off and allowing her feet onto the floor. ¡°How about you? Have your reasons stayed the same?¡±

    ¡°I''m not so sure anymore.¡± Atticus offers a short, vague response. ¡°Part of me wants to find a new purpose in life, to accomplish something great as a means of washing away my past failures, but...¡± Still lying down, he stares at the ceiling, thoughtfully reconsidering his motivations. ¡°I''m starting to realize that it won''t happen so long as I choose to carry this guilt regardless of what I do.¡±

    ¡°Don''t you want to let that guilt go?¡± Zyra, still unsure of where his guilt comes from, tries to converse with him about it. ¡°Why have you carried it for so long?¡±

    His voice becomes softer as he becomes more caught up in his self-reflection. ¡°I feel like I''m trying to work for forgiveness from someone who can''t offer it. Not because they wouldn''t want to, but because I can''t speak to them. So I''m left here, constantly wondering when it''ll be enough.¡±

    ¡°Are you... punishing yourself?¡± The puzzled mage doesn''t know how to unwrap his purposely vague musings, but attempts to extrapolate a more concise thought.

    ¡°I guess I am.¡± He nods slightly. ¡°I try to justify it in different ways, but I suppose the cold, hard truth is that I''m angry at myself and want someone to judge me.¡±

    ¡°I''m still not sure of the context for your troubles, but throwing your life away for some divine judgement you can''t possibly receive isn''t a good way to live.¡± Zyra, her expression still somewhat twisted in confusion, decides to ask another personal question. ¡°Would the people who love you want you to do this to yourself?¡±

    ¡°No...¡± The knight solemnly responds. ¡°They wouldn''t.¡± He finally sits up and turns his body to face Zyra. ¡°I''ve been thinking of Royd''s words, about how even if you try and fail, you were still closer to succeeding than you would be if you hadn''t tried at all. Do you agree with him?¡±

    ¡°I think so.¡± She nods. ¡°How can you accomplish a goal if you don''t even make an attempt at it? Success rarely falls on your lap.¡±

    ¡°But what if you had only one opportunity for success and fail; no second chances? What then?¡±

    Zyra leans her head back slightly, recalling a memory. ¡°This reminds me of something one of my teachers taught us when we first started our first year at university. He said that the further a person falls, the higher they can rise afterward. Basically, he was teaching us that everyone fails, and if you have time to find excuses to keep yourself down, then you have time to find reasons to stand again.¡±

    ¡°I see...¡± Atticus nods to himself, contemplating the words of this teacher. It''s true that instead of finding reasons to pick himself up and continue living normally, he opted to find reasons to stay down. Perhaps it''s easier to wallow in self-pity than it is to make a conscious effort to find happiness again.

    The pyromancer leans her body forward curiously. ¡°What are you thinking about now?¡±

    ¡°I''m thinking about the fact that I have a lot to think about.¡± The knight responds with a self-deprecating half-smile.

 XIV. Confessions (Section 2)

    After a pause, the mage forces out a thought she''s held in since dinner. ¡°Can I ask you a question you probably don''t want to answer?¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Why were you looking at that child''s cradle at dinner?¡±

    The room falls deafeningly silent as she waits for an answer. His gaze drops towards the floor again. More and more seconds pass without a sound from Atticus, and Zyra begins to regret asking such a question. She wonders if she''s gone too far, and if she''s reached the limit of prying that the knight is willing to tolerate. However, feeling as though as he has nothing to hide from his comrade in this perilous journey, he speaks, low and somber.

    ¡°I... had a woman I loved, back in Threcia.¡± He begins a sudden confession that shocks Zyra immediately. Small, erratic pauses in his words reveal a deal of reluctance in talking about his past, but nevertheless, he proceeds. ¡°Her name was Isabelle Wallenstein. I knew her since we were quite young, and she''d always been a passionate, smart person. She had long, dark hair that was soft to the touch. Her bright green eyes could mesmerize awild animal with their striking vividness.¡±

    Zyra noticesa hint of near elation in his voice at the sheer recollection of Isabelle''s beauty. His subtle expression of bliss is a face that she hadn''t seen before until this very moment; it makes her feel envious, but she isn''t sure in what way.

    ¡°By the time I had completed my training as a royal guard, we were madly in love. But she was a rather sickly girl, constantly bedridden throughout childhood.¡± His face suddenly grows grim, a stark contrast to how it was only a few seconds before. ¡°Unfortunately, she soon came down with a terrible disease, called paleskin. There is no known cure, but I was adamant to save her.¡±

    Zyra is still, hanging on every word the crestfallen knight utters. She leans forward with a morose attentiveness, unable to peel her curious, sympathetic gaze away from him. Keeping in mind the fact that he''s here, in Yhordran, she''s apprehensively expectant of a terrible ending to his tale.

    ¡°I decided to take my horse and go on a journey around the entire continent of Rhodanion to find some way of curing her. I spoke to every physician, botanist, alchemist, apothecary, and healing mage I could meet. I went on hopeless searches in dangerous places for ingredients to recipes that had no history of curing anything, just because I was desperate. The entire quest took two whole years. When I returned to Threcia empty-handed, she was so sick... She...¡± His voice stutters and begins to crack. ¡°She was so thin, she was practically bones. Her... Her skin was so grey and transparent, you could see her veins. Most of her beautiful hair had fallen out of her head. The remaining strands were thin and in patches. She barely had the strength to twitch her fingers, much less open her eyes.¡±

    Zyra clenches her jaw. She can''t see much of his face as he hangs his head to struggle forcing his words out, but his shaky voice is all but a direct confirmation of his tears welling up in his eyes.

    ¡°Thecourt physician said that she only had days left to live. I stayed by her side the entire time. She was in a coma, and I still... I still don''t know for sure if she even knew I was there, holding her hand for the entirety of her last days.¡± He clutches his own fist with his other hand, both shaking with hesitance to continue, and the pain of recalling his loss. ¡°About a month after she finally passed, her brother came up to me and... Told me about her pregnancy.¡±

    The young mage is caught off guard at the sudden statement, having already totally forgotten her question which led to the knight''s soul-baring confession to begin with.

    ¡°Isabelle found out she was pregnant soon after I left to look for a cure. She... She miscarried.¡± The knight''s tears transition into near sobs. ¡°She... suffered so much. But I wasn''t there. For two years... she withered away... and I wasn''t there. And worse, when I finally came back... I was empty-handed.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    Zyra''s mind is swirling with innumerable thoughts. She had assumed the knight must have suffered some sort of harsh experience to leave his home and country, but this was far more than what she had anticipated. She also couldn''t believe that the usually stoic, stone-faced warrior who had no reservations about fighting giant undead brutes had been reduced to tears in front of her. Lastly, she had no idea what to say in order to comfort him. There probably isn''t any sentence in all of language that could ease his pain. Rather than say anything, she slowly reaches forward and grabs his trembling hands, holding them tightly, as if he would fall into pieces if she were to let go.

    Eventually, his sobs cease, and only wet streaks on his cheeks remain. He takes several slow breaths to calm himself down. Zyra''s hands are still firmly clasped around his, as she doesn''t want to relinquish her grip until she knows the time is right.

    ¡°I''m sorry...¡± He softly apologizes for his tearful outburst. ¡°I''ve been holding that in for... many months now.¡±

    ¡°You have nothing to apologize for.¡± She warmly responds, finally taking one of her hands off of his to caress the side of his head. ¡°It takes courage to put the memories that haunt us to words. I''m the one who should be sorry for prying them out of you.¡±

    He slowly shakes his head. ¡°No. This was something I had to get off my chest.¡± He looks at her with glossy, moist eyes that now hold a renewed sense of determination. ¡°You said that the further a person falls, the higher they can stand afterward. If I want to stand again, then I must come to terms with how I fell to begin with.¡±

    Zyra senses that the emotional weight Atticus has been carrying on his shoulders is finally beginning to fall off of him. Proud of his ability to finally come to terms with his past and look for a way to move on, she wraps her arms around him in a heartfelt embrace. He returns it without a second thought. For the first time since his departure from Threcia, the black knight feels truly close to someone.

    Morning later arrives, and the veiled sunlight, whose rays are weakened by the dense fog, seeps into the bedroom where Atticus lies. He slowly lulls awake, and notices that his pyromancer teammate is nowhere to be seen, and also that a tasty scent enters his nose. Curious, he decides to stand up and look for her and his other companions. Exiting the bedroom, he''s immediately greeted by Royd and Veros, who are cooking slabs of meat on the fire pit that housed their tine bonfire the night before.

    ¡°Morning, sir knight!¡± Royd greets his comrade with enthusiasm. ¡°Did you sleep well? You must have, considering it''s close to midday already.¡±

    ¡°I''ve been out for that long?¡± Atticus ponders aloud. The cot was noticeably more comfortable than the ground he''s grown used to sleeping on. That, combined with no need to wake up at sunrise today, and he can see how he was out like a log for so long.

    ¡°Aye. I don''t blame you. The two of us woke up not too long ago, as well.¡±

    Veros nods. ¡°Those cots are a night and day difference to those bedrolls on the ground. We must''ve gotten about ten hours of sleep, at least.¡±

    ¡°Guess it''s another reason why staying an extra day was a good idea after all.¡± The bulky man nods in satisfaction at the best sleep he''s had in days. He wouldn''t have received it if they had decided to continue northward this morning.

    ¡°Agreed.¡± Veros leans forward in his chair, also wearing an expression of contentment with his extended duration of shuteye. ¡°We''ve been robbing ourselves of more and more sleep in the last several days, so it''s good that we gave our bodies a chance to catch up.¡±

    With nothing to do, the knight joins them in watching the meat by sitting on another vacant stool near the fire pit. ¡°So is this lunch?¡± He asks, pointing at the meat.

    ¡°More like breakfast.¡± Royd answers. ¡°We haven''t eaten yet, so we grabbed this meat from the eatery. Should be done any minute now.¡±

    ¡°So...¡± Veros looks at Atticus with an inquisitive glare. ¡°Have you decided? Do you want to continue with us tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± The knight responds without a second''s thought. ¡°I''ll go north with you. I have no reason to stop now.¡± His eyes flash with the same steeled sense of determination he had after his emotional cleansing last night. He doesn''t want to proceed just because he feels he deserves to put himself through the harsh trials anymore. Now, he wants to do it because it''s simply the right thing to do.

    ¡°Good to hear.¡± Veros expresses relief with a small smile. ¡°It''s reassuring to know you''ll be there.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd nods in agreement. ¡°Having you around improves our chances a lot, I''d say.¡±

    Atticus quietly accepts the praise being given to him, and he thinks back to Zyra''s words back at the baths in Rosemont, about how he''s part of a team that trusts and depends on him now.

 XIV. Confessions (Section 3)

    ¡°I didn''t mention this last night, but...¡± Royd continues, his demeanor slightly shifting to something more gloomy. ¡°I don''t have a lot of confidence in my fighting ability, nor my survival skills.¡±

    ¡°Don''t you live near the woods?¡± The veteran asks. ¡°I would''ve figured your survival skills would be fine.¡±

    The woodcutter shakes his head. ¡°I do, and I hunt occasionally, but being stuck in the middle of hundreds of square miles of hostile land where things are ready and willing to kill me isn''t really comparable to hunting deer every three weeks. I may have strength, but I don''t have any battle experience. I just cut wood.¡±

    ¡°I am a bit surprised that a man built like a castle such as yourself didn''t join the Legion.¡± Veros comments. ¡°With the right training, you would be a very formidable knight.¡±

    Royd lets out a small sigh. ¡°I probably would have joined them if I didn''t have my daughter so early in my youth.¡±

    Veros lifts his eyebrows and becomes perplexed. ¡°Daughter? You have a daughter?¡± He asks. Atticus, still quiet, looks equally dumbfounded.

    ¡°I do. She''ll be fourteen soon.¡± The burly fellow answers with no hesitation. His eyes move up towards the ceiling as he begins to reminisce. ¡°Fourteen... They always say your kids grow up fast, but you never truly understand it until you see it for yourself.¡±

    Still clearly vexed, Veros leans forward and inquires further. ¡°Not to pry or anything, but you''ve never mentioned her until now. Why''s that?¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± Royd''s expression changes to show bit of dejection. ¡°Every time I think of her and her mother, I get the feeling of wanting to turn around and go home.¡±

    ¡°I imagine they didn''t react well to your decision of coming here?¡±

    The burly man becomes wide-eyed in fear. ¡°Oh, the verbal lashing I received from both of them would make even the gods shiver in their thrones. But after their tantrums subsided, they came to terms with the fact that I''m just the kind of person who doesn''t like seeing others suffer. This mist isn''t going away if we just sit around and let other people take care of it. Like I told that bald rogue last night, if everyone thought like that, then nothing would get done.¡±

    Atticus quietly admires the woodcutter in his unflinching desire to take risks that others won''t for the good of the people. Even though the musclebound man has the strength of a fully grown bear, even he has his doubts about this journey and loved ones he wants to see again, but he truly feels that if he doesn''t put his foot forward and get his hands dirty, then who else can be trusted to do so? The three men continue to gaze longingly at the slabs of meat held above the fire pit, which are just about ready to be eaten.

    Meanwhile, Zyra is standing in front of the large manor that dwarfs the surrounding homes ¨C the building where Lena currently resides. The pyromancer stares at the front door, uncertainty washing over her expression. She feels like she needs to talk to the chief for some reason, compelled by no force greater than the fact that she''s a former university teacher who can probably give some worthwhile advice for surviving in the north.

    ¡°You need something?¡± A familiarly feminine but coarse voice interrupts the pensive mage''s thoughts. She turns to see Misha approaching her.

    ¡°I was just wondering if the chief was currently in.¡± Zyra, slightly panicked, comes up with a believable excuse on the spot to avoid looking strange.

    ¡°I think she is. I''ll take you to her. Come.¡± Misha walks past the pyromancer, beckoning her to follow as she walks to the front door and opens it. With no reason ¨C or chance, for that matter ¨C to talk, she complies. ¡°She''s usually in her room in the back. Follow me.¡± The tomboyish Mistwalker beckons further as she continues to the area behind the two large chairs overseeing the hall.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    As Zyra follows, she admires the interior of the building as she did yesterday. She gazes at the giant deer horn chandelier, the ornate rug underneath the long, sturdy wooden table in the center of the room, and the fancily-carved patterns along the legs and armrests of the thrones. When they cross the doorway leading to the back room, they''re immediately greeted by the sight of Lena sitting at a desk, intently writing on sheets of paper, almost as if in a trance.

    ¡°Chief?¡± Misha speaks up to get her superior''s attention. ¡°The mage girl''s here to speak to you.¡±

    Lena looks up to see Zyra, standing behind Misha and still somewhat nervous in the presence of the six-stone master of healing magic. The elegant elder woman stands and greets her visitor with the amount of grace one would expect her to display.

    ¡°Well, if it isn''t Zyra Wedwick. What brings you by?¡±

    The young mage timidly steps forward. ¡°I, uh, wanted to talk to you about going north.¡±

    ¡°Is that all?¡± Lena slightly tilts her head forward, suspecting there''s more to it than that.

    ¡°I also want... advice... on various things.¡± The young pupil hangs her head in embarrassment at her inability to speak coherently in such esteemed company. The chief, however, doesn''t seem to mind.

    ¡°I see.¡± She nods with a smile. ¡°Misha, could you give us some privacy?¡±

    ¡°Yes, ma''am.¡± Misha replies, and she promptly exits the room.

    Lena takes a step closer and softens her voice. ¡°What is it that you want to talk about, dear?¡±

    Several questions swim in Zyra''s head about various subjects, but she decides to get the most obvious out of the way.

    ¡°Why... are you here?¡± She asks somewhat meekly, but her eyes burn with curiosity.

    ¡°A few reasons, I suppose.¡± The chief wastes no time answering. ¡°Firstly, I didn''t like how the university staff turned its nose up to the situation here in the north.¡± She heaves a tiny sigh, clearly not remembering anything fond about the predicament. ¡°They''re all so resentful towards the crown for taking so many arcane crystals to erect the barrier. I guess I can''t really blame them, as it almost halted the curriculum for so many classes and slowed the admission of new students, but it''s for the greater good. Most of the board of masters are more upset about slower income than slower teaching.¡±

    ¡°Is helping to quell the mist really such an unpopular stance among the staff?¡± The young mage asks, her brow furrowed upward in concern at the apathy of the teachers.

    Lena nods. ¡°Unfortunately, yes. Some believe that the mist is magical in nature and in taking the arcane crystals to make the barrier and slow the curriculum, they''re slower to find a way to stop it. So they''ve essentially decided to sit on their hands as some form of protest. Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face, yes?¡± She smiles bitterly at the pitiable problem plaguing university politics behind closed doors.

    ¡°I figured mages didn''t bother because most of them aren''t commoners who might need the Mistwalker wage.¡±

    ¡°I don''t doubt that''s a common reason among students. I can only speak for the university faculty, though.¡± Lena turns around and goes back to the chair at her desk to make herself comfortable as she recalls her journey. ¡°After I made my decision, I left the university and went north. I''m a six-stone healing mage, so I figured I could be put to good use somehow. I spent some days healing exhausted and wounded Mistwalkers at Zenith Gate before I recruited some individuals and finally entered the misted region to go north myself.¡±

    Becoming increasingly interested in the story, Zyra unwittingly leans her shoulder against the wall. ¡°What made you fortify Terrance and turn it into a Mistwalker-run checkpoint?¡±

    ¡°As you know by now, the Legion stopped setting up checkpoints halfway into the area for unknown reasons, leaving Mistwalkers to fend for themselves for the remaining two hundred miles. I met Captain Roderick at Rosemont and asked for his help fortifying Terrance, as it was the perfect distance away to act as a new checkpoint. With his help, I was able to organize a constant stream of provisions.¡±

    ¡°You said last night that you''re using your own bracelet to power the arcane barrier around Terrance...¡±

    ¡°Would you like to see it?¡± Lena interjects with an enthusiastic invitation before the young mage could finish her thought.

    ¡°Absolutely!¡± Zyra accepts with equal enthusiasm, not at all bothered by the momentarily redirected conversation.

    The chief stands. ¡°This way.¡± She walks through a door at the back of the room that leads outside to the manor''s backyard.

    Immediately to the left is a staircase that leads to a second floor veranda that overlooks the northern side of Terrance. Up there is a single Mistwalker sitting on a wooden stool, guarding a table on which a metal plate is resting. On that plate is a bracelet with six glowing green stones embedded into it.

    ¡°Amazing.¡± Zyra is in awe at the magical accessory. ¡°None of the first year teachers have a six-stone bracelet yet. This is my first time seeing one up close, and my first time seeing one power an arcane barrier.¡±

 XIV. Confessions (Section 4)

    ¡°Since arcane stones are recharged in direct sunlight, and the mist obscures so much of it, I have to leave it up here every second of every day to collect as much light as possible. It''s a bit difficult going without it, but I must in order to keep the barrier up.¡± Lena remarks, also admiring the shining stones. ¡°I spent almost thirty years with this on my wrist, rarely taking it off for anything other than sleep and bathing. But it''s necessary, as undead seem to be less likely to wander into areas that aren''t covered in the mist. It''s not a guarantee, but it every little bit helps.¡±

    Still gazing at the bracelet, Zyra tries to find the words for how impressed she is. ¡°It''s... really amazing that you''ve been able to accomplish so much out here, where dangers could be lurking just beyond the fog at any second.¡±

    ¡°It looks like more than it feels, really.¡± Lena replies as her expression grows more grim. ¡°I''ve been here for quite some time now, and I still feel like I''m contributing little to helping the Mistwalkers quell the miasma.¡±

    ¡°Do you regret it?¡± The young mage looks up to the chief, concerned about the older woman''s doubts.

    Lena shakes her head and gives a resolute answer. ¡°No, I don''t. It''s hard work, maintaining this place and offering help to every Mistwalker who passes by, but it''s important work. And important work is rarely easy. It''s difficult to know for sure how much I''m helping, but I know, at the very least, I''m taking a small burden off the shoulders of every Mistwalker who passes through, and that''s far more than what they would receive if I weren''t here at all.¡±

    ¡°That''s true.¡± Zyra nods in agreement, thinking about the fact that the group not only would have taken an extra day''s rest if Terrance weren''t fortified, but they also wouldn''t be aware of the increased dangers that lie further north. Who''s to say that they would even be alive right now if it weren''t for Lena?

    ¡°Tell me, Zyra.¡± The chief turns the conversation around, taking the opportunity to be the one to ask questions. ¡°Do you plan on continuing north tomorrow?¡±

    The young mage furrows her brow, wondering how to voice the thoughts filling her head. ¡°Last night, I was reconsidering my place in this journey. People who come this far usually are the ones who actually care to save Yhordran. Not that I don''t care, but my original goal was to just improve my casting. Part of me feels like I should quit while I''m ahead because I''m not in the position to play hero.¡±

    ¡°And what does the other part feel?¡± Lena asks softly, encouraging the pyromancer to continue.

    ¡°The other part still wants to try.¡± Zyra answers with a hint of focused determination. ¡°I can''t abandon my team after we''ve made it so far already. And I can''t know for sure if I''m not capable of stopping the mist if I don''t try first.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± The chief smiles, happy to see her young peer''s resolute expression. ¡°''Playing hero'' ¨C as you put it ¨C isn''t some sort of switch that can flicked at any instant. It isn''t easy to come to the decision to risk one''s life for a greater good. The thought strikes fear into most people. But the true call to action comes when you realize that your goal is more important than your fear, and that goes for any type of ambition one sets for themselves.¡±

    Zyra silently agrees and momentarily resumes staring at the bracelet with six glowing stones in front of her. She admits to herself that she has no urgent personal reason to proceed north with the others now that she''s improved her casting like she wanted, but she can''t bring herself to leave them just when things are about become tougher. She also found herself moved at the altruistic motives of Veros, Royd, and Lena, who came forth and volunteered themselves for the harsh quest simply because someone needs to. Atticus''s face also flashes in her head, and she silently acknowledges the importance of him being able to openly confess his inner turmoil like that, and admires his willingness to overcome his past. She couldn''t bear to abandon him after such a tender moment.

    ¡°You said you received help on your casting by your Threcian teammate, Atticus, correct?¡± Lena suddenly starts a new topic.

    The young mage swings her head up, surprised at the shift in conversation as if Lena could read her mind. ¡°Uh, yes. Why?¡±

    ¡°Forgive me if this is too personal, but...¡± The elder woman shows a tinge of hesitance preceeding an abrupt question. ¡°What is your relationship with him?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Relationship?¡± Zyra repeats the word, perplexed and somewhat embarrassed by it despite having no reason to be. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°How close are you to him?¡±

    ¡°Well, he''s...¡± She begins, thinking to last night''s heartfelt talk, but her recollection of their evening at Rosemont also manages to intrude upon her mind. ¡° He''s definitely the person I''m closest to in the group.¡± The pyromancer reluctantly states as if she were admitting to something humiliating. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°I was just wondering if you consider him trustworthy.¡± Lena gives a vague response.

    Zyra ponders if the chief considers Atticus to be shady for some reason. She could understand why a normal person would think that when looking at him while he''s dressed in his intimidating armor, but Lena is a well-read, six-stone mage who already knows what a Threcian royal guard looks like. Personally, Zyra had no reason not to trust the knight after the intimate moments they''ve shared in the past several days.

    Lena continues. ¡°You mentioned he was able to perform a silent incantation, as well. He must be quite adept at casting if he was able to do that while still being out of practice like he said he is.¡± She furrows her brow and narrows her eyes slightly, as if deeply considering something. ¡°Well, it''s nothing important for now. Is there anything else you wanted to ask?¡±

    Zyra shakes her head. ¡°No, nothing. You''ve really eased my mind about several things. I''m sorry to bother you with my small problems.¡±

    ¡°It wasn''t a bother at all.¡± Lena reassures with a warm smile. ¡°You''re the first mage I''ve spoken to in a long time, let alone a student. It does make me miss the university.¡±

    ¡°Will you go back to teaching when this all ends?¡±

    ¡°I would like to.¡± The chief nods as an expression of wanting washes over her face. ¡°Well then, shall we?¡± She beckons her young guest to follow her back down the stairs, and they return to ground level.

    After exchanging short goodbyes, Zyra decides to return to the guesthouse to announce her decision to continue north with the others. When she arrives there, she sees all five men huddled around the fire pit as they were last night.

    ¡°Welcome back.¡± Veros is the first to greet her. ¡°How''d your talk with the chief go?¡±

    ¡°She helped me out a lot.¡± The mage replies as she sits herself down on the only vacant stool left. ¡°I''ve decided to continue north with you all.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Veros responds, surprised at the decision. ¡°Can''t say I expected it, but I''m glad you decided to join us. You''re a valuable asset to the team. Kellar just told us earlier that he''d proceed north as well.¡±

    ¡°I don''t really have much of a choice.¡± Kellar replies bitterly. ¡°I still haven''t found any loot worth taking back home, and I can''t return empty-handed.¡±

    Royd scoffs. ¡°You''d just feel bad for leaving after making it this far. Admit it.¡±

    ¡°Quiet, you meathead.¡± The rogue fires back.

    Veros continues, ignoring the short spat between the usual suspects. ¡°We were just in the middle of discussing how to prepare ourselves for tomorrow. The best we came up with is to even out our own equipment by having everyone take a sword or shield if they lack one.¡±

    ¡°I don''t have any experience with a sword, but I''m not against taking one just in case.¡± Zyra responds with confidence, but quickly turns her head in curiosity about how to make the plan a reality. ¡°But where are we going to get extra swords and shields?¡±

    ¡°Erik ran into Vincent outside and apparently the Mistwalkers here who do the daily patrols along the road take back weapons and shields they come across on bodies, including knives, swords, and bows.¡±

    ¡°So you plan on asking Lena to spare us some of them?¡±

    Veros nods. ¡°That''s the plan. Do you think she''d allow it?¡±

    ¡°After talking to her, I can''t imagine she''d be the type to be overly stingy about it. Unless, of course, they don''t have that many to spare to begin with.¡±

    Kellar interjects. ¡°So who''s gettin'' what, exactly?¡±

    ¡°You, Erik, and Zyra will get both a sword and shield.¡± Veros begins to list off the required equipment while pointing at recipients. ¡°Royd will get just a shield, as his axe seems to be doing fine for him. I''ll get a bow and quiver of arrows; it''s been a while since I used one, but I should be fine after some practice shots. Atticus is the only person who doesn''t need anything.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± Royd affirms his commitment to the plan.

    ¡°Do we know what kind of swords and shields they have, specifically?¡± Kellar asks.

    ¡°He didn''t really go into detail.¡± Erik answers. ¡°If they''re simply picking up any usable equipment they come across on patrols, there could a huge variety, but there''s no telling if they''re any good until we examine them for ourselves.¡±

    The bald rogue strokes his chin, pondering the possible choices. ¡°Best case scenario, they have Legion equipment plucked from soldiers who bit it. But then again, they might want to keep those for themselves.¡±

    ¡°We shouldn''t count our chickens before they hatch.¡± Veros interrupts. ¡°We could get a rejection for any reason, or the equipment could be so terrible that they''re not worth using. We should be be prepared to deliberate on a new approach if either of those things happen.¡±

    ¡°Right...¡± Kellar slumps his shoulders.

    ¡°When should we ask her?¡± Zyra inquires.

    ¡°We''ll wait for dinner, where we can meet with her casually.¡± Veros answers. ¡°Is everyone alright with that?¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd responds with a strong nod. Everyone follows suit in agreement. Now, they patiently wait for the early evening to approach Lena with their important request.

 XV. Parting Gift (Section 1)

    Later, as daylight slowly begins to fade, the six Mistwalkers make their way to the eatery to indulge in a hearty dinner ¨C their last before they''ll need to start rationing in the dangerous cover of the mist the next day.

    Inside the eatery, they''re greeted by the same sight as yesterday''s: about a dozen Terrance residents selecting their food, eating, and talking ¨C including Vincent and Misha, who aren''t late tonight. Again, Lena is seen sitting at the far end of a long table at the center of the room. She notices the group immediately and beckons them to join her just as before.

    ¡°Come, join me!¡± She calls to them with a smile while waving her hand in an inward motion. Considering their need to talk to her anyway, the group obliges.

    After they collect their food, they sit at Lena''s table in the same spots they chose the previous evening.

    ¡°I hope you''ve all been able to keep yourselves occupied today.¡± The chief makes small talk before they dig into their meals. ¡°There''s not much to do around here in terms of entertainment. We all have to keep ourselves busy with duties or whatever tasks we can invent.¡±

    ¡°We did take the opportunity to walk around the perimeter of the town.¡± Veros responds. ¡°The walls around the area are air tight and very sturdy.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we couldn''t afford to rush it, knowing what dangers lurked around us. But at the same time, the careful construction contributed to an extended building time. It was quite exhaustive. Were you able to introduce yourselves to any of the others here?¡±

    Veros nods, but curls his mouth downward in a non-commital expression. ¡°Some small talk here and there, yes. Most of them seemed busy, as you said. Our archer, Erik, ran into Vincent today, who mentioned the fact that the individuals who patrol the roads north and south tend to pick up the equipment of fallen undead and bring them back here. Is that true?¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is.¡± Lena gives a straightforward answer, likely knowing where the conversation is heading. ¡°While everyone typically already has their own equipment, it doesn''t hurt to stockpile extras.¡±

    ¡°In that case, we''d like to ask a favor.¡± Veros wastes no time in reaching the point.

    ¡°I''m all ears.¡±

    The team leader looks up at her with pleading eyes. ¡°We''d like to borrow some swords, shields, a bow, and arrows for tomorrow''s journey. We''ve talked amongst ourselves, and we''ve decided that the only way to truly increase our chances of survival is to acquire any useful equipment we don''t already have.¡±

    Lena nods without a hint of reluctance. ¡°I''ll give you whatever you need.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Veros is surprised at how easily she accepted the request. ¡°I must say, I expected at least some semblance of pushback.¡±

    She laughs softly. ¡°I would have no reason to deny you. I''m the one who''s trying to help, remember? Tell me, how many swords and shields do you need?¡±

    ¡°Four shields and three swords.¡±

    Lena nods. ¡°Alright. Four shields and three swords, it is. I''ll take you to the armory myself after you''ve finished your meals.¡±

    The six Mistwalkers look at each other, bewildered at the woman''s no-nonsense approach to helping them, but they''re thankful all the same. She suddenly continues.

    ¡°Oh, and speaking of preparation tomorrow, don''t forget to talk amongst yourselves about what foods you''d like to take with you. You''ll need to haul a decent amount if you want enough to last the minimum four days'' travel.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°You''re very right. And thank you for accepting our request. We hope we haven''t proven to be a handful.¡±

    ¡°It''s no problem, really.¡± Lena casually waves her hand to dismiss any idea that they''re a bother. ¡°Please, finish your meals. The sooner you''re done eating, the sooner I can take you to the armory.¡±

    Not wanting to dawdle and unnecessarily waste any time, the group complies and begins to scarf down their food.

    After the quickly paced dinner, Lena leads the crew back outside by lantern light, to another house that''s pressed along the northeastern corner of the fortified perimeter of the village. She retrieves a key from a pocket in her robes and uses it to unlock a large metal padlock that keeps the building''s front door tightly secure.

    ¡°Don''t feel like you need to rush yourselves. Take your time in selecting whatever it is you need.¡± The chief announces as she removes the padlock and pushes the door open. She steps in and immediately turns to light another lantern by the door, illuminating the room just enough to reveal a shockingly large collection of weaponry, shields, and even pieces of armor.

    ¡°Goodness...¡± Veros utters in amazement. There''s easily enough equipment in here to fully arm an entire platoon of soldiers. There isn''t just swords, but also spears, axes, hammers, and maces. Shields vary from all shapes and sizes, ranging from small bucklers to full-sized parmas to a few massive greatshields that rival the size of a grown man.

    ¡°How the hell did you end up with so much stuff?¡± Kellar asks, as equally flabbergasted at the quantity as everyone else.

    ¡°Don''t forget, we''ve been here for some months now.¡± Lena begins a rather obvious explanation as she hangs the lantern in her hand on a beam near the center of the room. ¡°We''ve come across many undead since that time, and you''d be shocked at how well some of them have armed themselves while they were still among the living.¡±

    ¡°You''d think that the people who had equipment like this would be among the ones who didn''t get killed in the mist.¡± The rogue responds with a judgemental tone, critical of the skill of the people who held such armaments yet still fell.

    ¡°If you stay out here long enough, you either meet your end, or you save Yhordran.¡± The chief casually responds. ¡°There isn''t much middle ground. Plus, some commonfolk with no real training would spend money on quality weapons, thinking it would help them survive by simply being on their person despite not knowing how to use them. It''s quite unfortunate.¡±

    Veros picks up a sturdy-looking shortbow from a table, and pulls back the string while taking aim, as if to shoot. Satisfied by the draw weight, he takes a moment to closely examine the physical quality of it. He feels along every inch of the limbs, looking for damage of any sort, but finds none. He notices a collection of quivers next to the table, already full of arrows. He takes a single arrow out of the quiver nearest him, and examines the shaft, fletching, and iron head, which isn''t too wide. Like his bow, everything seems to be in good shape. He nocks the arrow into the bow and draws the string back again, maintaining his aim for a moment before slowly undrawing. Content with everything, he ultimately decides that these will be the bow and arrows he''ll use.

    ¡°I''ll take these.¡± Veros announces aloud to anyone listening.

    ¡°I''m not exactly sure what I''m supposed to be looking for.¡± Zyra stares perplexingly at a collection of swords of different lengths. ¡°I''ve never held a sword in my life, except for the occasional wooden toy when I was little.¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± Atticus responds as he approaches her. ¡°This should suit you fine.¡± He pulls a two-edged shortsword with a tapered point out of its scabbard, revealing a clean blade with little signs of usage. It''s total length is no more than about thirty inches. He points the hilt towards her, offering for her to hold it. She carefully complies.

    ¡°Oh, it''s light.¡± The mage comments as she lifts it up and down with ease. ¡°It''s not as long as yours or Veros''s. Is that okay?¡±

    ¡°Should be.¡± The knight casually responds. ¡°If you''re lucky, you won''t be in a situation where you''d have to pull it out anyway.¡±

    ¡°I guess you''re right.¡± Zyra agrees, remembering that, as a pyromancer, her optimal fighting range is at a bit of a distance. ¡°And what about my shield?¡±

    Veros walks up with a parma in his hand. ¡°This should be ideal for you. The face is wooden, but there''s a layer of metal at the back, for extra protection from thrusts, stabs, and arrows.¡± He holds it out to her, and she takes it.

    ¡°Oh, this is light, too.¡± Just as she did with the sword, Zyra lifts the parma up and down. ¡°I always figured that carrying these things must be cumbersome, but they''re not bad at all.¡±

    ¡°So you''re fine with the shortsword and parma?¡± Veros asks for clarification.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± She replies with a confident nod. ¡°I won''t have a problem holding on to these.¡±

    Veros smiles and pats her on the shoulder. ¡°Good.¡±

 XV. Parting Gift (Section 2)

    After several minutes of browsing the contents of the armory, everyone who needed new equipment had acquired it. Erik and Kellar decided on straightswords and parmas, while Royd, unsurprisingly, was keen on one of the iron greatshields. After completing their selections, they huddle together once more before leaving.

    ¡°So, is everyone satisfied with their choices?¡± Veros asks to the others.

    ¡°Very much so.¡± Royd answers proudly with a lift and slam of his new massive shield, making a loud thud as if a giant slab of raw metal had hit the ground ¨C which it essentially did.

    The team leader continues. ¡°I know some of you aren''t used to the equipment you picked up, but we can help each other out when we can. I know I need some time to get my aim right again.¡±

    ¡°I initially ditched having shields because of my dodgy left shoulder, and swords because they didn''t really suit me well.¡± Kellar remarks, looking at his sword with an apprehensive leer. ¡°But I guess daggers aren''t the optimal weapon against enemies that want to grab and bite me.¡±

    ¡°So, you''ve all decided on your equipment?¡± Lena asks, patiently waiting by the door.

    ¡°We have.¡± Veros answers. ¡°We''re ready to go.¡±

    ¡°Good. Do me a small favor and bring that lantern to me, please.¡± She instructs while pointing to the first lantern she hung from a hook in the middle of the armory. Royd, being closest to it, complies as she turns to extinguishes the second latern right next to the door. When the group exits the building, Lena reattaches the large padlock to the door, inserts the key and relocks it with an audible mechanical clacking noise.

    She turns and exhales. ¡°Well then, should any of you feel the need to change your minds on what to bring, be sure to tell me before you head out in the morning.¡±

    ¡°We''ll keep that in mind.¡± Veros nods with acknowledgement. ¡°Thank you again for allowing us to have these.¡±

    ¡°Think nothing of it.¡± She shakes her head. ¡°Whatever is in my power to help guarantee your survival further north, I''ll offer it.¡± Suddenly, she turns her attention to Atticus and Zyra. ¡°Speaking of which, may I borrow you two for a second?¡±

    ¡°Us?¡± Atticus points to himself and his mage colleage, who is standing next to him.

    ¡°Yes. It''ll only take a minute. It''s rather important.¡±

    The two look at each other with a hint of confusion, but of course they have no reason to deny her.

    ¡°Of course.¡± The knight responds in kind. ¡°Anything you need us for.¡±

    ¡°Don''t worry, I won''t give you any chores. Please, follow me to my manor.¡±

    ¡°We''ll head back to the guesthouse.¡± Veros announces to Atticus and Zyra before they follow Lena to her large home.

    Inside the manor, the chief leads the two perplexed individuals to her personal room at the back of the building, where Zyra had met with her earlier.

    ¡°Wait here a second.¡± Lena commands once they cross the doorway. She walks up to the desk she was sitting at earlier and pulls out a single drawer tucked along the right hand corner, underneath the desktop. She pauses for a moment to look at the contents. The knight and young mage can''t see what it contains due to the position they''re standing in, but grow eager with each passing second. After a quiet moment, Lena finally grabs something from inside, and pushes it closed again. She turns around with with her hands raised to chest level, clasped around whatever it was she took. She slowly walks up to Atticus.

    ¡°I had a conversation with Zyra earlier today.¡± She looks at him with gentle eyes and warm half-smile. ¡°She mentioned that she trusts you quite a lot, and that you''re the one she gets along with the most out of the group.¡±

    Somewhat stunned at what he''s hearing, he turns to look at Zyra for some sort of clarification, but she bashfully turns away from his gaze. Lena continues.

    ¡°I also thought about what she mentioned yesterday at dinner ¨C about you performing a silent incantation.¡± She narrows her eyes slightly while looking at the item she''s concealing in her hands. ¡°You said you used to practice, but only until you picked up the sword and shield. But if you were able to do a silent incantation, then you must''ve been quite learned before stopping. Do you agree?¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Uh...¡± Atticus, unsure of the nature of the conversation, can only slowly voice his agreement. ¡°I''d say so, yes. I wasn''t a grandmaster or anything of the sort, but... I had already dedicated multiple years to it.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Lena immediately responds with relief. ¡°Then... I want you to take this.¡± She opens her hands at him to show a four-stone pyromancy bracelet.

    Atticus and Zyra are both shocked and wide-eyed at the gift, and the latter can''t help but voice her surprise. ¡°Four stones? Where did you get it?¡±

    ¡°It was found on an undead not long after we fortified Terrance.¡± Lena answers solemnly. ¡°It''s one of only two bracelets that we''ve discovered since being here. The other is a one-stone electromancy bracelet.¡±

    Apprehensive about the gift, the knight slowly raises his hand and lifts it from hers. He examines it closely, noticing that it''s been spotlessly cleaned, likely thanks to Lena.

    ¡°The proper procedure would be to return the bracelets to the university.¡± The chief continues with a pensive gaze at the magical accessory. ¡°But they wouldn''t do any good there, being held hostage by the selfish administration who discourage themselves and students from assisting with this plague out of spite against the crown.¡±

    ¡°I''m a bit surprised you only managed to find two despite being here for a few months.¡± Zyra comments, comparing the fact that Terrance has an entire house full of melee equipment to only two arcane bracelets.

    Lena closes her eyes for a second to sigh. ¡°There''s already so few mages out here bothering to put their foot down and defend Yhordran. Every time my patrolmen come back with swords and shields, I think about the lives those people must''ve had before this all happened. But when they brought back these bracelets, I was struck with such an overpowering sense of loss. It''s hard to explain.¡±

    Trying to search for the right words to say, she turns and paces back towards her desk. Her hand wanders to the drawer again, where she retrieved the four-stone bracelet, and pulls it open once more. The electromancy bracelet she mentioned is there, with its single yellow stone. She stares at it with a grim, regretful expression.

    ¡°A one-stone and a four-stone bracelet. Two very recent students, one of whom didn''t even finish their first year yet. I''m a healing magic teacher, so I wouldn''t have known them personally, but it hurts all the same to lose a fellow mage. It feels so senseless.¡±

    She turns back around to face Atticus and Zyra. ¡°Because of this, part of me wants to tell you to go back and just concentrate on your studies at let others handle it, but that would just make me a hypocrite, no different from the staff members at the university who sit on their hands.¡± She walks back up to them and slowly places one hand on the knight''s shoulder, and the other on the young pyromancer''s shoulder. Her eyes go from sad to resolute. ¡°This is for the safety of Yhordran. There''s few mages putting their lives at risk out here, but that just makes us even more important. We''re doing what others refuse to do, because they think they''re above this sort of risk. And yet, what good is all this magic if we''re not using it to save and protect?¡±

    The two Mistwalkers quietly acknowledge her passion and determination, her contagious motivation sparking an almost equal fervor in them. Lena lets her hands down and takes a deep breath. She looks at Zyra with her usual warm expression.

    ¡°Zyra, you asked me earlier today why I was here, yes?¡±

    The young mage nods. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°I have another, more personal reason for coming as far as I have.¡± The chief turns and walks to her desk again, this time to look out of the window over it, facing north. ¡°My late husband was from Armasstadt. He was a six-stone mage as well, for hydromancy. He was a man of incredibly strong convictions. If he were still here, I know for a fact he''d be at my side, here in Terrance, if not forcing his way to Armasstadt''s walls. After the mist appeared, I knew he would''ve been the first to abandon his teaching duties to put his life on the line to stop it.¡± She turns her head again to Zyra, and a proud smile crosses her face. ¡°I didn''t come this far just for me. I came this far for the both of us, and every day I stay alive is a day I dedicate to him.¡±

    Though the short story was directed to Zyra, Atticus finds himself moved by it. Since meeting Lena, he never once thought she was someone who was carrying any sort of burden of guilt or loneliness. Instead, she carries herself like a thoughtful, competent, selfless leader. The loss of a loved one hasn''t slowed her down, but rather motivated her to take action and dedicate herself to an altruistic cause.

    ¡°You''re really something.¡± Zyra comments, amazed at Lena''s drive. ¡°I hope I''m just as dependable as you are in the future.¡±

    The chief smiles at the compliment. ¡°Thank you, but I''m not perfect. Sometimes I want to grab a sword and go further north, myself. However, that would mean abandoning my duties here, where I''m already important to Mistwalkers who pass by.¡±

    ¡°Don''t I know it.¡± The young mage replies, thinking of all the help Lena''s given the group in such a short time.

    ¡°So, Atticus, will you accept my gift?¡± Lena inquires, gesturing at the four-stone pyromancy bracelet he''s still holding.

    ¡°I will.¡± The knight responds with a nod. ¡°It''ll take some time for me to get used to casting again, but once I do, it''ll be of great help. Thank you.¡±

    The chief smiles. ¡°You''re most welcome. I''m glad someone who can use it has finally come along.¡± She takes a deep breath, letting it out as a long, exaggerated sigh of relief. ¡°Well then, I won''t keep the two of you any longer. Please, return to the guesthouse and get some rest. You''ll need it for the journey ahead.¡± She extends her arms to the door to dismiss the two from their short meeting.

    Zyra nods in compliance. ¡°We will. Have a good night.¡± The young mage bows in gratitude, and Atticus does the same.

 XV. Parting Gift (Section 3)

    They both exit Lena''s private room, through the manor, and back outside. When the door closes behind them, Zyra unleashes a sudden burst of excitement.

    ¡°Holy Gods, I can''t believe she just gave you a four-stone bracelet like that!¡± She seizes the knight''s left hand, which has the magical accessory around its wrist, to examine the gift. ¡°That''s so amazing.¡±

    ¡°I should take the opportunity to practice casting before we leave.¡± The knight responds casually to the upbeat mage. ¡°It''ll be hard to do so otherwise.¡±

    ¡°I''ll join you.¡± Zyra invites herself without a second''s hesitation, and without even looking up from his wrist. ¡°Also, have you always been a left-handed caster?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly.¡± He responds with hesitance, fearful of crossing the line into boastfulness. ¡°I can cast with either hand.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Surprised, she finally brings her face up to reveal an expression of amazement. ¡°You really are something, Sir Atticus Dayne of Threcia.¡± A sly smile crosses her face as she teases him.

    ¡°Please don''t refer to me like that.¡± The knight bluntly responds, embarrassed at being spoken to like nobility. ¡°It''s not uncommon for people in Threcia to be that experienced by the time they''re adults. Pyromancy is taught there practically for free.¡±

    ¡°Brag about it, why don''t you.¡± Zyra finally lets go of his hand. ¡°I guess we shouldn''t waste time. Let''s meet up with the others.¡± She walks off with excitement in her step towards the guesthouse, eager to give the news to the team.

    Once there, their four teammates are again huddled around the fire pit, currently unlit. They all look up at the knight and mage with curious gazes, anticipating something important.

    ¡°So, what did she talk to you about?¡± Veros is the one to ask.

    ¡°She gave Atticus something special.¡± Zyra answers for her comrade, who takes it as his cue to lift his left hand and display the bracelet, which is met with varying levels of surprise.

    ¡°What on Earth?¡± Shocked, Veros quickly rises to his feet to get a closer look, noticing the accessory''s four stones. ¡°She just gave this to you? No strings attached?¡±

    ¡°She did.¡± Atticus replies matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Well, I''ll be damned.¡± Kellar utters, admiring the bracelet from his seat. ¡°Guess we have two mages on our team now.¡±

    ¡°Do you even know four-stone pyromancy spells?¡± Veros inquires again.

    ¡°Some.¡± The knight gives a non-specific but confident answer. ¡°But because I haven''t practiced magic in a very long time, I should be wary of doing them for now.¡±

    ¡°Here!¡± Royd interjects, pointing at the fire pit. ¡°Light us a small flame, then.¡±

    Realizing that it would be a good way to get himself started, Atticus accepts the offer and kneels down next the fire pit, leaning his chest and shoulders over the short stone barriers. He brings his left hand forward, pointed at the unburnt tinder in the center of the pit, and makes the ''Combustion'' gesture with his hand ¨C palm down, index finger and thumb extended, other fingers curled. He concentrates for a moment, taking deliberately paced breaths, slightly furrowing his brow with intense focus. After several seconds of waiting, a small, controlled flame emerges from his finger, lighting the tinder successfully.

    ¡°You did a silent incantation again!¡± Zyra exclaims, impressed with the knight''s performance.

    Atticus, satisfied with how he did, leans back from the fire pit with a sigh of relief, followed by a small nod of contentment.

    ¡°Goodness.¡± Royd comments, bewitched by the lively fire that now inhabits the pit. ¡°A hell of a display.¡±

    ¡°I gotta say,¡± Kellar chimes in while stroking his chin, ¡°this makes me a bit more optimistic for tomorrow.¡±

    Veros nods. ¡°Indeed. With our new equipment and access to even more magic, I think our chances are actually somewhat decent now.¡± He sits back down and looks at the knight. ¡°You shouldn''t waste any time. Take the next few hours to get the remaining rust off your casting abilities. I doubt it would take very long.¡±

    ¡°Good point.¡± Atticus agrees and stands up. ¡°I''ll go outside and practice.¡±

    ¡°I''ll come with you!¡± Zyra, still excited, follows him outside as the others resume gazing at the flame.

    For the remainer of the evening, the knight and young mage spend their time behind the guesthouse, practicing various spells, specifically of the one and two-stone level in order to warm Atticus up again to the usage of magic. Throughout the session, Zyra maintains her upbeat attitude, continually impressed at his successful attempts at silent incantations. Once mental wear starts to take its toll, the two finally call it a night, promptly falling asleep as soon their heads touch down on their cots.

    The next morning, early enough for the sun''s veiled radiance to barely cease the requirement of lantern light, the long-awaited journey further north is in its final stages of preparation. The six Mistwalkers once again don their armor and the weight of their newly-acquired equipment. They''ve retrieved their horses from the Terrance stable, and are at the northern exit of the fortified village, where they speak to Lena one final time before departing.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°Have you all taken enough food to last the entire trip?¡± The chief asks.

    ¡°We have.¡± Veros answers, patting one of multiple sacks of provisions secured to his horse''s saddle. ¡°All of this should last about five days minimum, maybe up to ten if we ration enough.¡±

    ¡°And you have all of the gear you chose yesterday?¡± She continues to inquire.

    ¡°We do.¡± The team leader pats the new bow slung across his back.

    She looks over at Atticus, back in his pitch black Threcian armor. ¡°And you?¡±

    He wordlessly holds his left hand up, revealing the four-stone pyromancy bracelet she gave him the previous night.

    Lena smiles and nods. ¡°Good. Then I guess everyone is set to leave, then.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for everything you''ve done for us.¡± Zyra speaks up with a sad gaze.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Veros agrees. ¡°You''ve helped us in ways we simply didn''t expect. We can''t express our gratitude enough. You gave us information on the dangers ahead, gave us new equipment and several days'' worth of food for the trip. I don''t know how we can repay you.¡±

    A smile crosses Lena''s face again. ¡°You can repay me by clearing out this damn fog.¡± She responds in a playfully curt manner. ¡°Then after that, you can come by again and tell me how you did it.¡±

    ¡°We''ll be sure to tell you of all manner of obstacles we overcame and strange sights we witness.¡± The team leader promises with a smirk.

    ¡°Which shouldn''t be too hard.¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°We''ve already come across some weird shite so far in our trip.¡±

    ¡°The mist is definitely home to some grim oddities.¡± Lena''s face straightens as she thinks back. ¡°When I first came upon Terrance, there was a circle of charred bodies on their knees in front of the manor. It was like some terrible ritual had been performed.¡±

    The light-hearted demeanor drains from Veros''s face, practically going pale entirely. ¡°What did you just say?¡± He questions her with urgency. ¡°Did those charred bodies attack you?¡±

    Lena nods, curious at the sudden change in atmosphere. ¡°They did. Luckily they weren''t very strong. How did you know? Did you encounter something like that, too?¡±

    Veros looks around at the other Mistwalkers in his team, who share the same stark expression as he does, before answering. ¡°Yes, we did. At Legarthat.¡±

    ¡°Legarthat...¡± Lena ponders to herself. ¡°On trips back to Zenith Gate, I never go through there, as it''s too close to Tumarda River. I go around it.¡±

    Many questions begin to swirl in everyone''s heads, especially Veros, who had completely forgotten about the Legarthat encounter as well as the unded high monks until now. He can''t believe he hadn''t thought to ask Lena about these things earlier.

    ¡°Tell me,¡± Veros continues his interrogation, ¡°how many bodies were among that ritual here?¡±

    ¡°I think about twelve, maybe fourteen.¡± Lena answers to the best of her ability, but it''s clear she isn''t one hundred percent certain.

    ¡°That''s half the amount we encountered at Legarthat.¡± Erik breaks his usual silence to join in the deliberation. ¡°Though Terrance isn''t that much smaller.¡±

    Veros isn''t sure of what to make of this information. Is some lunatic, or group of lunatics, capturing and sacrificing Mistwalkers? How is this possible, and why has no one done anything about it? Has the Legion not noticed or received reports?

    ¡°One more question.¡± The team leader continues. ¡°Have you found any undead monks since being here?¡±

    ¡°Monks?¡± The elder woman responds with bewilderment. ¡°As in from the monastery? No, I can''t say that I have. Why? Have you seen them wandering around?¡±

    ¡°We have.¡± Veros answers honestly. ¡°We encountered two undead monks ourselves a few days ago, and have heard of another being found towards the west.¡±

    Lena narrows her eyes and spends a moment to rack her brain for plausible explanations, but can''t conjure any. ¡°That''s... incredibly odd. I''ve heard nothing about monks making any sort of visit to Armasstadt leading up to the mist appearing. I''m sorry, I''m afraid this is the one thing I can''t really help with.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine.¡± Veros is quick to dismiss the topic, feeling as though he''s pressuring his generous host. ¡°You''ve done more than enough to assist us. I don''t mean to take your kindness for granted by interrogating you all of a sudden.¡±

    ¡°No trouble at all. If anything, you''ve given me something to look out for.¡±

    ¡°One more small question before we head off, though. About how far north must we go before we might run into these intelligent undead?¡±

    ¡°If I had to guess, I''d say about twenty miles at minimum, thirty at most. Our normal daily patrols go five miles up and they''ve yet to encounter any, so they definitely don''t come anywhere near Terrance.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Veros takes this new information into consideration. ¡°So we have quite a grace period before we might see them.¡±

    ¡°Maybe if we''re really lucky, we won''t run into any at all.¡± Kellar interjects.

    ¡°Possibly, but let''s not get complacent with the thought.¡± The team leader still encourages alertness. ¡°Alright. We shouldn''t waste anymore time. Lena, thank you once more for everything you''ve done for us during our short stay.¡±

    ¡°And once more, it was my pleasure.¡± Lena responds in kind. ¡°Be careful on your journey. I''ll be praying for your success and safe return.¡±

    ¡°Until we meet again.¡± Veros exchanges his farewell with a small bow of the head before turning his horse and riding towards the northern gate. Kellar, Royd, and Erik follow him, but Zyra and Atticus stay put for an extra moment to offer a more personal goodbye.

    ¡°You really gave me the motivation I needed to continue.¡± Zyra, with glazed over eyes, voices her gratitude once again. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I didn''t give it to you, child.¡± Lena responds somewhat sternly, but with her usual warm smile. ¡°I simply brought the motivation you already had inside you up to the surface.¡±

    ¡°I''ll take good care of this bracelet.¡± Atticus speaks up, lifting his left hand once again. ¡°When we''ve accomplished our mission, I''ll return it to you personally.¡±

    ¡°Then I''ll tell you to just keep it personally.¡± The chief quips back lightheartedly. ¡°If you use it with success, then it has found its new owner. I do, however, expect you to come back and tell me every detail of your journey. I wasn''t joking when I said I would want to hear it.¡±

    ¡°We''ll do that.¡± The young mage responds.

    ¡°Good.¡± Lena gives a single, content nod. ¡°Now, go on. Your comrades are waiting for you.¡± She beckons them to proceed through the gate, where the others are waiting just beyond the boundary of the arcane barrier.

    Zyra gives a silent nod of acknowledgement and urges her horse forward, slowly trotting ahead with Atticus following immediately behind. As the pyromancer approaches the transparent wall of the magic dome, she turns her head one last time to see Lena still watching them depart, and gives a timid wave goodbye. Lena lifts her hand and waves back. Zyra faces ahead again, and the entire group rides onward to enter the grey abyss.

 XVI. Heightened Dangers (Section 1)

    After entering the mist following their two-day break, the Mistwalkers find themselves more overwhelmed than usual by the density of the strange miasma and assaulted by the thickness of the air. They were only a few miles from Terrance, and they felt as though exhaustion was already beginning to set in.

    They were traveling in a coordinated manner, in their usual line of three pairs, but organized in a way to best suit the presumed dangers of the northern region. At the front are Veros and Atticus, the two most experienced swordfighters of the group who are also competent bowmen. After them are Erik and Zyra, the two dedicated ranged fighters. At the rear of the group are Royd and Kellar, also dependable warriors, but better suited to respond to surprise attacks than the two ranged team members would be if the the band were approached from behind. This is especially true thanks to Royd''s massive new greatshield. With their new equipment and awareness of the greater dangers that lie ahead, the six Mistwalkers are as well-prepared as they could possibly be.

    ¡°I assume we''ll be stopping for the day at Arrenstead?¡± Atticus asks aloud.

    ¡°It would be best.¡± Veros responds without taking his eyes off the road ahead. ¡°We can''t risk camping out here. We need to stay the night inside of a building, no questions asked. Luckily, many small villages start to cluster together as we get closer to Armasstadt, so that shouldn''t be an issue.¡±

    ¡°We should preferably look for a barn so we can house the horses, as well.¡± The knight suggests. ¡°Can''t really afford to let them out of our sight when they''re carrying so many necessities.¡±

    Veros nods in agreement. ¡°True. When we reach Arrenstead, we''ll look for a barn to stay in. If there isn''t one, we''ll have to settle for a house with a fenced-in yard.¡±

    ¡°Will we have someone be a lookout, just in case?¡±

    ¡°It''s probably not a good idea to allow any of us to become sleep-deprived for that.¡± The veteran answers with some reluctance towards the idea. ¡°We''ll have to just stay in the most secure building we find, with few points of entry, so establishing a lookout won''t be necessary. I''m sure the horses would make a racket if something hostile showed up, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± Atticus concedes the point, as allowing multiple people to lose sleep over looking out might be a futile effort. Thanks to the extremely low visibility allowed by the mist at night, a lookout wouldn''t be able to see very far to begin with, making their job pointless. Focusing on finding a secure location would be a better investment of time.

    A ways further down the road, and the group comes across a slowly approaching shadow concealed in the fog in front of them.

    ¡°Hold.¡± Veros holds his hand up to stop the team''s advance.

    They quietly watch the silhouette draw nearer, allowing it to emerge from the cover of the mist. It''s a single undead in a rusty metal cuirass, heavily decomposed, limping forward at a turtle''s pace. It does wield a sword, though ''wield'' would be a generous term, as the blade is being dragged across the dirt underneath it.

    ¡°A normal undead, like the ones we''ve been encountering.¡± Veros comments with a hint of relief in his voice. ¡°Figures. We''re still not even ten miles from Terrance yet.¡±

    The corpse comes closer at its tepid pace, occasionally swinging its chipped sword with lackluster force, barely able to to lift its blade from the ground.

    ¡°Mind if try something?¡± Atticus speaks up. ¡°I want to cast a spell.¡±

    The team leader casually lifts his hand towards the shambling cadaver. ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    The knight''s horse takes several steps forward to further close the gap between himself and the undead foe. Atticus lifts and extends his left arm forward, turning his hand to face his palm to the right. He closes his ring finger and pinky while keeping his index and middle fingers extended, and his thumb pressed flatly against the side of his hand. He takes a deep breath to gather his focus, keeping his extended fingers pointed at the hostile corpse, which is still slowly advancing. After a long exhale, a sudden, small flash of white zooms across the air in an instant, and the mindless husk is immediately transformed into an explosion of flesh confetti, accompanied by a loud boom, and followed by light smoke rising from its remains. It happened so quickly, that the others aren''t even sure of what they witnessed.

    ¡°Was that a fireball?¡± Veros asks. ¡°It didn''t look like the ones Zyra casted.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°That... was an Air Cutter.¡± Zyra speaks up from behind, amazed at the display of power. ¡°A four-stone pyromancy spell. It''s technically a type of fireball, but it''s more like a projectile of hot, condensed air, one that moves at an extremely high velocity, so it travels much farther than a fireball. It doesn''t explode in a fiery manner, but any flesh that''s hit directly by it practically turns into a puff of smoke. It''s typically used for sniping.¡±

    ¡°Incredible.¡± The veteran utters, gazing at the remnants of the undead''s existence. ¡°I can only imagine what power a six-stone bracelet yields.¡±

    ¡°Don''t expect me to use spells like this all the time.¡± Atticus interjects. ¡°The stronger a spell is, the longer it takes the channel, plus I''m still a bit rusty. I still need a some time to hit my stride.¡±

    ¡°One problem.¡± Kellar speaks up. ¡°Now we can''t grab his card.¡±

    The knight looks back at the spot the undead was standing in when it exploded. The only significant pieces left of it are its charred hips and legs.

    Atticus sighs. ¡°Damn. I didn''t think that through.¡± He curses at his lack of foresight.

    ¡°Don''t beat yourself up over it.¡± Veros tries to offer words of comfort. ¡°It''s doubtful he was the first Mistwalker to lose their card after being turned. That''s just an unfortunate accident that occurs out here, I''m sure.¡± He looks over at the motionless legs, no longer attached to a full torso. ¡°Though you should probably save that spell for more threatening encounters.¡±

    The knight nods sullenly. ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Alright, let''s keep going.¡± Veros resumes the day''s travel, and the group proceeds with riding northward.

    More minutes pass, and a greater distance is covered with each step, causing the team to slowly become more and more tense at the increasing likelihood of running into the intelligent undead they were told of. They maintain the organized travel formation they left Terrance with; Veros and Atticus stay focused at the head of the party with their eyes keenly concentrated ahead of them.

    About two hours later, two more human shapes are spotted on the road, blocking their path. Again, Veros stops the advancement of the team to wait and see what the enemies are. The first undead is a heavily aged corpse in cotton clothing, loosely dragging a pitchfork behind it. The second is something far more surprising: a necrotic Legion soldier, still donning its armor ¨C minus a helmet ¨C and coat of arms, but isn''t holding a weapon.

    ¡°A Legion soldier...¡± Veros comments with a grim tone. ¡°I''m a bit surprised it took so long for us to run into one.¡± He takes a moment to examine the situation, taking note of the lack of head protection for both approaching threats. ¡°I''ll take care of these two. Now''s a good time to practice my aim on a moving target.¡±

    Veros takes the bow that''s slung across his back and retrieves an arrow from his quiver, nocking it into the bowstring, taking aim at the first undead, and drawing back. His arms sway ever-so-slightly, trying to find a sweet spot. After a focused pause, he looses the arrow. It cuts through the air with dangerous speed and hits the shambling corpse in the right shoulder.

    ¡°One more try.¡± The veteran urges himself on.

    He takes a second arrow, nocks it, aims, and draws the string back in the same swift motion as before. He narrows his eyes and furrows his brow to gather the focus he needs to keep his aim true. After a long breath, he looses the arrow, and this time it successfully strikes the undead square in its slack-jawed mouth. It limply falls over, hitting the ground with an audible thud. He repeats this process with the second undead ¨C the Legion soldier, which is steadily approaching with the usual snail-like speed exhibited by most reanimated enemies. With a steady aim, Veros releases another arrow, which pierces the foe''s decomposed skull.

    ¡°Looks like you''ve gotten used to shooting again.¡± Atticus comments.

    ¡°Thankfully.¡± The team leader responds with a small sigh, relieved that his doubts of being dependable with a bow have been washed away. ¡°Let''s go retrieve those arrows.¡±

    The group rides forward, approaching the motionless corpses. Once near them, Veros dismounts and walks to the first undead, which lies awkwardly on its side with two arrows protruding from it. He clasps the arrow in its shoulder and gives a forceful tug to retrieve it, and does it again with arrow in the cadaver''s head. He notices the heavy decomposition of the unknown body.

    ¡°This one''s definitely someone who lived here while the mist was expanding.¡± Veros remarks. ¡°I don''t think he has a card on him.¡±

    He walks over the undead Legion soldier and pulls the arrow out of its head with a strong jerk, needing to step on its head in order to get leverage.

    ¡°Since he''s a soldier, he definitely wouldn''t have a card, either.¡± He notes.

    ¡°I just had a thought.¡± Royd suddenly speaks up. ¡°If there are undead Legion soldiers this far north, then wouldn''t they also be part of these smarter undead we''re keeping an eye out for?¡±

    The group is struck with a sense of unease as they come to the same realization. Despite how obvious the idea might seem, it was a thought that hadn''t crossed their minds.

    ¡°Well, that''s great.¡± Kellar facetiously comments. ¡°Fightin'' undead that aren''t just capable of usin'' weapons right, but also wearin'' full armor? A real gift from the Gods.¡±

    Veros heaves a small sigh. ¡°Best we can do is keep our eyes peeled, and our fingers crossed that we don''t encounter any groups high in number. We''re about halfway to Arrenstead, so we could run into these special undead any moment now.¡±

    ¡°What do we do if that happens?¡± Zyra asks. ¡°We can''t charge through them?¡±

    ¡°We can''t risk getting the horses injured.¡± The veteran responds bluntly. ¡°They''re more than just transportation, they''re also carrying our food for the next several days, as well as our tents and bedrolls. There''s no way we can haul all of these things ourselves if they''re hurt. We''ll just have to dismount and fight them, as usual.¡± His arrows retrieved, Veros climbs atop his horse''s back again. ¡°Let''s keep going.¡± He commands. The group quietly proceeds northward.

 XVI. Heightened Dangers (Section 2)

    The day grows more suspenseful as they reach the supposed point where they could run into the greater undead that haunt the region at any given moment. The tension weighs on them with greater heft than any previous day of their quest, as the enemies grow stronger, the mist grows denser, and safe havens provided by the Legion will no longer be seen.

    In the afternoon, as the dulled sun comes down from its apex, the Mistwalkers grow weary of the mental strain they''ve forced on themselves from constant alertness and lingering paranoia of whatever lies beyond the grey veil around them. As they silently desire to finally reach a stopping point at Arrenstead, an odd shadow becomes visible behind the mist directly on their path forward. It isn''t advancing towards the team, but instead holding its ground, unmoving.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Veros commands the others in a hushed voice. They leer forward to examine the silhouette before them, but because it refuses to move, no finer details of it can be revealed. ¡°Let''s move forward, slowly.¡± The leader utters.

    Their horses take tiny, measured steps, gradually closing the distance between themselves and the unknown figure. As the mist begins to clear, the being''s presence becomes apparent: an undead in worn leather armor, with a wooden parma strapped to its left arm, and a shortsword in its right hand, not merely being dragged limply like the undeads before, but gripped with effort and intent.

    ¡°Stop.¡± Veros immediately orders once again, still in a lowered volume. He turns to Atticus to discuss their approach. ¡°I think this is it. He''s different from the others. He''s one of them.¡±

    The knight narrows his eyes to try and study the undead foe''s stature. It stands still, in a neutral stance, but it looks menacing all the same.

    ¡°I agree.¡± Atticus nods slightly without taking his eyes off the ominous corpse.

    ¡°He doesn''t seem to be in a hurry to come to us, though. How should we approach this?¡±

    The knight isn''t sure how to answer. He quietly weighs his options. Recalling the story they were told by Misha back at Terrance, he considers the possibility that it could be an ambush with many more hostiles waiting just beyond visible range for a chance to all strike at once. He turns around to look at his teammates. They seem somewhat calm on the outside at first glance, but they''re heaving their breaths unsteadily and streaks of sweat moisten their foreheads. They''ve grown uneasy since realizing the potential threat of the fight that might ensue. Nobody''s ready to deal with an ambush.

    ¡°I''ll go.¡± Atticus finally responds.

    ¡°What? Alone?¡± Veros inquires, surprised at his comrade''s decision to throw himself into danger. ¡°What if there''s more of them concealed by the fog?¡±

    ¡°Then I''ll yell.¡± The knight gives such an obvious answer, that Veros doesn''t know if he''s being facetious or not. ¡°We need to gauge how capable they are in combat. I''ll fight it one-on-one.¡±

    ¡°Then when should we jump in to help?¡±

    ¡°When it looks like I''m having trouble.¡± Atticus gives yet another obvious response as he dismounts his horse.

    Veros shrugs. ¡°Suit yourself.¡± He prepares his sword in case he feels the need to rush in and intervene.

    The black iron-clad knight, with his shield on his arm and sword in his hand, begins a slow approach forward by walking in a relaxed manner before stopping about twenty feet from the undead. He quietly traces the grey boundary behind the standing corpse, spotting no signs of other enemies being present. At this closer, more personal distance, the knight can observe the details of the cadaver''s half-rotted face. It displays a blank, but hardened expression, very different from the loose, slackjawed faces of previous undead. Its eyes do not blink, and are glued firmly to Atticus, who patiently waits for a sign of movement.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The standoff grows longer, and the knight considers making the first move. After a few more slow breaths of the heavy, misted air, he takes one more step forward. The undead finally budges with a sudden jerk of its body, lifting its parma and sword into a combative stance. It wastes no time in charging forward with killing intent at the speed of a living person hellbent on murder. Atticus responds by lifting his left arm forward and facing his open palm towards the advancing corpse. His fingers extended and spread, a single fireball erupts from his open hand, hitting the undead''s shield in a fiery blast. It doesn''t force the enemy to stop, but the spell allowed an opportunity for the knight to evade its charge with ease.

    After passing the knight, the aggressive undead immediately turns its body around to face him. Atticus lifts his shield and prepares for a proper fight. The corpse thrusts its sword forward, which is redirected to the knight''s left by his thick iron shield. The momentum of the attack throws the creature''s body forward, and Atticus follows up with an angled offensive step forward and slightly to the side, allowing for an immediate switch to the undead''s unprotected back. With his foe unable to protect itself, the knight takes makes a wide downward swing of his sword to the undead''s left leg, lopping it off with relative ease. Unable to find the support necessary to stay standing, the corpse falls face first, putting itself in an utterly helpless position. Atticus finishes the short conflict by quickly switching to a backhand grip on his sword and stabbing it into the defenseless enemy''s neck. The cadaver twitches grotesquely for a brief moment and releases and short, repulsive groan before ceasing all movement.

    The knight takes a deep breath to collect himself following the fight, and the others approach. They seem relieved at the ease with which their comrade was able to eliminate the threat, though they''ve taken notice of the fact it could still defend itself with some semblance of conscious thought.

    ¡°You did good.¡± Veros comments. ¡°It could indeed fight, but thankfully it wasn''t particularly skillful. It just kept charging.¡±

    ¡°Their adequacy with a weapon while undead probably depends on their adequacy while they were still alive.¡± Atticus hypothesizes aloud. ¡°Just a guess.¡±

    ¡°Sounds reasonable.¡± Kellar chimes in. ¡°If he were any better with a sword, he probably wouldn''t be undead in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Well, we shouldn''t get comfortable with the idea that they''re all this unskilled.¡± Veros responds somewhat curtly.

    The knight kneels down at pats down the body in search of a Mistwalker card. He soon finds one folded up in pant leg pocket. He stands up and hands it to Kellar, who reads the details out loud.

    ¡°Robert Ingle.¡± The rogue announces. ¡°First card, second outing. Hit every checkpoint on the way, too. Guess he musta been competent after all. Last stamp was a few months ago, so he''s been wanderin'' around here for a while.¡± Kellar tucks the card into the small sack that all the others are being kept in.

    ¡°Shall we continue?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°We shall.¡± The knight answers as he sheathes his sword and begins to mount his horse once again.

    As the team continues their quest northward, the young mage, Zyra, swings her head around to face the foggy area off the road, distracted by something ¨C an extremely faint, distant sound of thumps, like something heavy hitting the ground in a quick sequence. She furrows her brow and examines the endless grey, but doesn''t see anything peculiar. Wondering if she''s the only one to hear this noise, she turns to her closest teammate, Erik.

    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± She asks.

    ¡°Hear what?¡± The noble responds.

    ¡°Sounds from off the road. Seemed like a horse running or something.¡± The pyromancer turns her head to scan the area again, but nothing emerges.

    Erik shakes his head. ¡°No, I didn''t. My ears are nowhere as good as my eyes, admittedly.¡± He also turns to look at the grey boundary around them, simply out of curiosity, but doesn''t see anything noteworthy, strange, or out of place.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Zyra groans to herself. ¡°Weird.¡±

    ¡°If a horse were out here, it certainly wouldn''t be a wild one.¡± Erik comments, referring to the fact that any living animal not bound to stay by a human master would have escaped south when the mist showed up.

    ¡°Unless it were also undead.¡± Zyra responds, recalling Misha''s story of an undead rider on a reanimated horse.

    ¡°Do you want to tell Veros?¡±

    The mage makes a small, contemplative pause. ¡°No,¡± she soon answers, ¡°I don''t think it''s a big enough issue to bring up. I guess I could''ve been hearing things.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    ¡°This fog''s gotten so much thicker in the last few days.¡± Zyra continues, commenting on the nigh impenetrable grey abyss that surrounds them. ¡°Feels like a prison.¡±

    ¡°Purgatory, more like.¡± Erik responds, agreeing in his own way. ¡°This place fits almost every description of it that I''ve ever read. Endless grey, white, or black, with an overpowering sense of loneliness and lingering dread.¡± He looks down to the roadside, taking a mental note of the dull appearance of the grass, whose color has been almost totally sapped away due to the lack of direct sunlight.

 XVI. Heightened Dangers (Section 3)

    ¡°You really did read a lot of books in that library, huh?¡± The mage asks.

    ¡°I didn''t have much else to do. I was a rather quiet child who minded his own business.¡± The noble pauses to reflect on his current situation. ¡°Though, obviously, I grew up to develop the initiative to at least come here.¡±

    ¡°Are you really out here just to prove to your father that you have ambition?¡± Zyra, puzzled at her companion''s motivations, steers the conversation to a more personal direction. ¡°Would that really work?¡±

    ¡°What greater ambition is there than to save the world?¡± Erik answers with a question of his own.

    ¡°Ruling it?¡± The mage gives a half-serious reply.

    ¡°Well, I''m not much of a ruler.¡± The archer dismisses the idea with a shake of his head. ¡°I have no interest in commanding people or being depended on by more than those who are close to me. But then again, my father probably noticed that and thought it was why I lacked ambition to begin with.¡±

    Zyra''s eyes become contemplative. ¡°You don''t worry that your reasons aren''t enough to justify the risk you''re putting yourself in?¡±

    ¡°Not at all.¡± Erik gives an immediate answer. ¡°The greatest thing a person can accomplish is a reason to be remembered with fondness after they''re gone. If I were to stay at home, I''d only have my archery trophies to boost the status of my name, but that''s not something you would read about in books.¡±

    ¡°So it''s for the glory, then?¡± Puzzled, the pyromancer seeks clarification.

    Erik, unsure of how to explain, lets out a small sigh. ¡°Somewhat. I just want to prove that I''m my own person, not just another spoiled brat with the ''Rocheford'' name stamped on his head. Think of it like this: my name is Erik Rocheford. If my father had given me opportunities to expand our financial wealth, then it would add value to the ''Rocheford'' part of my name. But that''s not what I want. I want ''Erik Rocheford'' to have value, as a whole.¡±

    Zyra''s squinted eyes show a subtle grasp on his thought process. ¡°I think I follow your train of the thought. It seems a little abstract, though.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine.¡± The noble replies with a self-deprecating smile. ¡°It''s really difficult to put such nebulous feelings into words. I guess the most simplified way I can put it is: I''d rather have an accomplishment associated with my name, specifically, than just sit in my family''s estate, complacent with the silver spoon settled in my mouth.¡±

    ¡°Ah, okay.¡± The young mage nods, finally beginning to apprehend her comrade''s motivations. ¡°You want to work for something and be known for it instead of lazing about, letting people think you''re just leeching off your family''s old money?¡±

    Erik smiles and huffs a sharp breath through his nose. ¡°More or less. It probably sounds vapid and selfish, but it''s my reason for being here.¡±

    ¡°I don''t think it''s selfish.¡± Zyra offers reassurance. ¡°As you said, you''re saving the world. Even if it were just for popularity or glory, you''re still doing more than the people who are sitting around and waiting for others to take on the responsibility.¡± She releases a small sigh as she faces forward again with a somber expression. ¡°Like the mages. It really hurts to know that my peers and teachers are avoiding giving any sort of assistance because they feel slighted by their arcane crystals being used for the cause.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Is that your reason for continuing north with us?¡±

    The pyromancer nods. ¡°One of the reasons. I''d also feel really guilty if I abandoned you all just when things get tough. I feel a sense of closeness with everyone.¡± She unwittingly turns her head to stare at Atticus''s back. Erik notices.

    ¡°You do seem more comfortable around everyone than you were on the first day.¡± The archer remarks. ¡°You seemed especially eager to get to know our knight over there.¡±

    Embarrassed, Zyra tucks her chin in and looks down reflexively. ¡°I was only interested in him at first because he''s from Threcia and I was hoping he''d help me with my casting.¡±

    ¡°But then?¡± The noble continues to tease her, pushing for further explanation.

    She continues with clear hesitance in her voice. ¡°I felt like we were becoming close, and then...¡± She pictures her last few personal encounters with the knight, particularly their time together at Rosemont and then Terrance. She becomes flustered. ¡°I''m just happy to feel like I belong with everyone, that''s all.¡±

    Erik laughs again. ¡°Fair enough.¡± He pauses to straighten his face and change the subject. ¡°By the way, do your parents know you''re out here?¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡± Zyra answers quickly. ¡°They''d go berserk if I told them, and in ways I can''t even predict. I wouldn''t put it past them to sign up for Mistwalker duty just to find me and drag me back out.¡±

    ¡°Does anyone know you''re out here at all?¡±

    ¡°Some friends from the university. I''ve told them to tell my parents if I''m not back in six weeks. How about you? Did you tell any of your family?¡±

    ¡°Yes. All of them ¨C my parents and brother.¡± Erik''s expression turns somber. ¡°My brother was the only one who put any effort into trying to convince me not to go.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± The pyromancer''s face twists in confusion and a touch of disgust. ¡°Your parents didn''t try to stop you?¡±

    ¡°It''s not that they don''t care.¡± The noble shakes his head slightly. ¡°I saw the conflict on their faces. They weren''t sure how to respond. I think that was the moment they realized I''m an adult who can make such a decision on my own.¡±

    ¡°What did your brother say?¡±

    Erik lets out sigh. ¡°He tried to offer me some of the family assets that our father promised him. I told him it wasn''t really about inheritance. I came to the realization that I didn''t like the idea of getting everything I own through the established wealth of my family. I want to work for something. Until now, my archery and my reading were the only things I really did for myself.¡± Another self-deprecating smile crosses his face. ¡°I''m sure this probably sounds petty. The problems of a noble always seem so trivial in comparison to others.¡±

    Zyra twists her mouth in deep consideration of her teammate''s issues. ¡°I''ll admit, having everything given to you seems like a good problem to have.¡± She gives her honest reply. ¡°I''m almost the exact the opposite. I had to help out a lot with my father''s textiles shop. Until recently, we made okay money, but things slowed down quite a bit. So, to be honest, it''s a bit hard for me to feel empathy for your situation.¡± She notices Erik''s self-reflective expression and changes her tone to be more encouraging. ¡°But like I said, you''re using that as a reason to help people, and that''s a good thing. It''s also good that you''re taking the steps towards getting something for yourself instead of waiting around for it to be given to you. I can respect that.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Erik flashes a grateful smile. ¡°I appreciate your honesty, and your support.¡±

    The young mage smiles back. ¡°You''re welcome.¡±

    She begins to silenty ponder the trials and tribulations that nobles might encounter that are different from the world of the commonfolk. She didn''t live luxuriously like her archer comrade does, but she wasn''t nearly as impoverished as some others, either. After talking with Erik, the pyromancer has begun to understand that sometimes people from wealthy families don''t always live complacently in gross excess of their old money, but also seek a higher sense of self-fulfillment by working for something ¨C to earn it for the sake of earning it through merit as opposed to be handed it because of one''s family name or depth of one''s coin purse. Erik is someone who grew to feel that there''s little dignity in living off the success of others. While she doesn''t know the feeling of it first-hand, she can admire his drive to avoid such a gluttonous lifestyle.

    The two return to their usual silence as they resume facing forward toward their goal and slowly riding deeper into the grey purgatory with the rest of their team.

 XVII. Past Lives (Section 1)

    Following another few hours of riding, the Mistwalkers finally come across a roadside sign, aged by time and weather, that bears the words: ''ARRENSTEAD, 3 MILES''. Taking notice of the sign, Veros turns to Atticus to prepare for their approach to the village.

    ¡°We''ll be coming up on Arrenstead soon. How should we approach?¡± The team leader asks.

    ¡°I guess we''ll do what we''ve usually done.¡± The knight responds. ¡°We''ll dismount once we reach the village proper and progress through it. We do have to make sure it''s reasonably safe if we plan on staying the night.¡±

    Veros nods in agreement. ¡°True. Once we find a house suitable to hole up in for the night, we''ll do one last patrol around it to ensure it''s safe.¡±

    Settling on a plan, they proceed north, unsure of the undead activity that might meet them in the forsaken village almost totally untouched by the living since the mist arrived. Before long, the first buildings of Arrenstead emerge from the grey veil ahead of them. Before crossing over into the village limits entirely, Veros stops the group to discuss with the others how they will proceed.

    ¡°We''re here.¡± He begins. ¡°We''re going to do what we normally do. Atticus and I will dismount and guide the group from the front, looking through buildings and making sure they''re free of threats. Royd and Kellar, you two will dismount and guide from the rear to ensure nothing sneaks up on us. Erik and Zyra will stay on their horses and act as lookouts, particularly for when Atticus and I are busy going through a house. Is everyone alright with this?¡±

    The plan is met with nods and affirmative groans, plus the usual, confident ¡°aye¡± from Royd.

    ¡°Alright, let''s start.¡± The team leader announces as he dismounts his horse and arms himself with a shield on his left arm and a sword in his right hand. Atticus, Royd, and Kellar do the same. Together, they guide the horses to the interior of Arrenstead''s perimeter, keeping keen eyes on their surroundings. Royd and Kellar, being in the most vulnerable positions, find themselves constantly looking behind them.

    They come across the first set of houses; Veros and Atticus momentarily deviate from the dirt road leading towards the center of the village to inspect them. The veteran pushes open the home''s already-ajar front door. Nothing of note is spotted in the first room, aside from the usual mess of remnants of a family trying to make a hasty retreat ¨C knocked over chairs and stools, various household items strewn about haphazardly. He makes his way to a doorway leading to a single bedroom. Nothing interesting there, either; only a messy bed and a few articles of clothing left behind.

    In Atticus''s house, he''s greeted with a similar sight in the first room. He quietly takes note of the fact that there are more normal household items lying around here than there were way back south, in Newmanstead, the first village he came across before he joined with the others. It makes him realize that Mistwalkers who signed up for the job to loot were willing to stoop so low as to take wooden plates, eating utensils, and used kitchen cloths ¨C things that would have to be looted by the carriageload to be worth anything significant. It seems desperate, but if you''re willing to risk your life for only a few pieces of copper, then you must be past the point of caring about how desperate you appear.

    The knight opens a cloth threshold to a second room, and jerks his head back in surprise at the first thing he sees: a heavily deteriorated corpse whose head had already been relieved of its body, as the withered cranium lies mere inches from the body''s feet. Curious, Atticus gives the head a light kick, sending it rolling a short distance to the other side of the room. It and the body remain unmoving. Other than that, the humble home was another building with nothing worth staying for. He leaves to continue down the road.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Soon after, the two leading the group divide once again to approach two more houses. Veros walks up to the front door, which is closed shut completely. He presses against it gently with his left arm, but it doesn''t budge. He tries again by leaning his shoulder against it and slowly pushing against it with the weight of his body with increasing force, and the door manages to budge slightly, accompanied by the sound of whatever''s barricading it being budged as well. For an instant, he hears hard thuds reminiscent of boots taking steps on a wooden floor. He pauses, hoping to hear the noise cleanly, but it doesn''t show up again.

    Deciding to make haste, Veros takes a step back, heaves a long breath, and quickly lifts his left leg to bash open the door with the bottom of his boot. The door flies open, practically off its hinges, and the chair propped against the door snaps in half from the pressure as well. As the veteran is about to take a step into the building, the grotesque yell of an undead is heard, and he turns his head into the living room in time to catch a hostile corpse lunging forward with a sword. Veros steps back frantically, barely able to dodge the tapered point of the being''s rusted blade.

    ¡°Gods!¡± He yells, totally taken by surprise.

    The undead, now led outside by its own momentum, quickly turns to follow up its thrust with a wide horizontal sweep. Veros, however, blocks it with his shield with ease. Taking immediate advantage of the fact that the undead doesn''t have a shield of its own, he follows through with a thrust directly to its neck. The corpse slumps over and hits the ground with an audible thud. The veteran lets out a sigh. Behind him, Erik undraws his bow, as he was ready to shoot the undead had Veros began to struggle with it.

    ¡°Are you okay, Veros?¡± Zyra asks, still perched on her horse.

    ¡°I''m fine.¡± Veros responds with a small wave. Not bothering to inspect the corpse''s body, he resumes his inspection of the home. The debris from his kick to the door covers a small section of the first room, and on the opposite wall, he notices the only window is boarded up. He continues to the only bedroom in the house, noticing another broaded up window. Other than the strange implication that the corpse he just encountered was trapped in the house for months, there''s nothing else of note. Thus, he exits.

    Atticus''s second house is initially more of the same. He enters with his shield raised, anticipating an attack, but no enemies seem to lurk inside. Only more turned over stools and worthless items thrown to the ground greet him. He walks to a short hallway that leads to two bedrooms facing each other. He peers into one, finding only more evidence of hasty retreat, including an open chest at the foot of the bed.

    He turns to look into the opposite room to see a similar scene. However, for no particular reason, he''s drawn by a small table next to the head of the bed. A short drawer hangs underneath the top, closed shut. Not knowing what to expect, he casually pulls it open, and a single golden ring rolls forward from the backmost part of it. The knight picks it up to inspect it, notices a tiny, intricate pattern etched onto the exterior side. He turns his head to examine the rest of the room, and nothing else draws his interest, so he leaves.

    Once outside, the knight approaches Kellar, who continues to swing his head and body around in desperate attempts to stay alert and aware of his surrounding.

    ¡°Kellar.¡± Atticus calls out.

    ¡°Huh?¡± The skinny rogue snaps out of his awkward dance. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Here.¡± The knight holds his hand out towards his comrade, the golden ring resting on his open palm. ¡°Take it.¡±

    Kellar, surprised at sudden gesture, shows hesitation. ¡°Are you sure?¡± He asks. ¡°You found it, so you could keep it for yourself, if you want.¡±

    ¡°I didn''t come here for anything other than to reach Armasstadt.¡± Atticus replies, showing no interest in the ring. ¡°You''ve mentioned how badly you need to take home something to sell. Take it. A ring does no one any good by sitting in a drawer where no one can see it for months on end.¡±

    Accepting the knight''s blunt reasoning for offering the small accessory, Kellar slowly picks it up from Atticus''s palm and holds it close to his face to admire its craftsmanship. While not anything especially spectacular, the ring indeed seems like it would hold a serviceable amount of value.

    Kellar nods his head as he pockets the ring. ¡°Thanks, Atticus. I appreciate that.¡± His eyes show a humble sincerity that he''s yet to display on the journey thus far.

    Content with his companion''s reaction, the knight continues his inspection of the houses that line the main path cutting through the center of Arrenstead.

 XVII. Past Lives (Section 2)

    As Veros and Atticus go through the third pair of homes, Erik and Zyra stay perched on their horses, watchful of any strange activity of undead presence from their slightly elevated vantage points. The noble mostly keeps his eyes on the rear of the group, where Kellar and Royd are, as Zyra keeps her focus to the north, as they could be vulnerable from that direction if the two men on point aren''t around. The young pyromancer soon notices a jostling shadow from behind the veil of the mist further down the road, soon revealing itself to be another undead, armed with a sword and shield, running towards the group.

    ¡°Ahead!¡± Zyra yells, immediately gaining the attention of Erik, who quickly turns his horse and draws the string of his bow back.

    The corpse holds its shield up to cover its chest and head as it rushes forward. Zyra extends her right arm forward and faces her palm to the undead, fingers extended and spread.

    ¡°Spherus Infernum.¡± She recites in a lowered voice.

    A fireball erupts from her open hand and flashes across the air, hitting the rotted warrior''s shield. The fiery force of the blast knocks its left shoulder back, momentarily pushing away its safe cover. Erik quickly capitalizes on the exposure of the corpse''s head by loosing his arrow, which strikes the enemy directly in the eye. It falls over with a short slide due to its leftover forward momentum. Atticus, coming from the house he had just searched, walks up to the body after witnessing the short encounter. He kneels down and grabs the arrow sticking out of its eye socket by the shaft and gives a forceful tug, successfully pulling the arrow out and shaking the blood and traces of brain matter off. He walks back up to the two ranged fighters on their horses, and hands the arrow back to Erik.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± The noble responds, taking the arrow and placing it back in his quiver.

    Atticus turns to Zyra. ¡°That was good,¡± he suddenly gives her praise, ¡°using the force of a fireball to knock his shield back as he approached and open him up. Was that a conscious decision?¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± The mage tilts her head with a bit of inner conflict showing on her face. ¡°Not necessarily. But if it was a good choice, we''ll pretend it was on purpose.¡±

    ¡°Well, accidental success is still success.¡± The knight says with a small smile.

    ¡°Hey, it wasn''t a total fluke.¡± She responds with a slight pout. ¡°I can do it again.¡±

    ¡°I''d like to see that. Just don''t be too eager.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The mage gives her acknowledgment with a smile and sarcastic salute, and the knight turns and resumes his patrol through the road.

    The slow process of searching through the main road of the village and clearing out each building lining either side of it continues for nearly an hour, with only the occasional encounter with a roaming undead that is quickly and efficiently eliminated by either the two men leading the group or the two ranged fighters on horses. None of the homes they''ve come across so far seems particularly suitable for an overnight stay for six people, and finding one that is grows more and more urgent as the sunlight begins to quickly disappear, and darkness starts to envelop the area. Though just as they reach the northern border of Arrenstead, they finally see it: a barn, standing sturdily in front of a small farm.

    ¡°Thank the Gods.¡± Veros rejoices as they approach. ¡°This is exactly what we wanted. I was starting to worry for a moment.¡±

    The group leader walks up to the large front double doors that are already open, and peers into the interior. The barn has high, angled ceilings with no second floor, eight stalls along two rows, each big enough to suit horses, and hay bales and various farming tools scattered about the wide aisle.

    ¡°Is it safe?¡± Zyra asks, approaching while still on her horse.

    ¡°Seems so.¡± Veros responds. ¡°Alright, everyone. We''ll be staying here for the night.¡±

    ¡°Finally.¡± Kellar voices his relief. ¡°Tired of spinnin'' my head around to make sure I''m not stabbed by an uppity corpse.¡±

    Zyra and Erik dismount like the others, and everyone slowly guides their horses to the inside of the barn, claiming different stalls as they enter. Veros walks up to the closed double doors opposite the ones they entered, and notices that it''s locked. He gives them a few forceful pushes and tugs to assure their sturdiness, and seems content with the results. No random stragglers should be taking them by surprise through the night.

    ¡°Atticus and I will do a quick patrol around the barn.¡± Veros announces. ¡°You all can start unsaddling your horses and eat dinner. Remember not to gorge yourself; we have limited provisions.¡±

    Royd heaves a sigh. ¡°If only we had another horse to at least carry some non-perishables.¡± He complains, not very eager to start cutting the size of his meals down.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Atticus and Veros temporarily exit the barn and begin their search for potential hostiles in the immediate area. They walk in a large circle around the building, with their shields on their arms and swords at their hips. Ultimately finding no threats, they return inside to unsaddle their own horses and rejoin the others.

    After everyone has settled in and the double doors they came through have been shut and chained together tightly, the six Mistwalkers are sitting in a circle in the aisle between the two rows of stalls, huddled around the dim light of a latern they found hanging from a support beam. With no need to set up their tents, their bedrolls are laid out in the open around them. A sullen atmosphere shrouds them, as they''re used to a bit more security than this thanks to the Legion checkpoints and Terrance.

    ¡°Boy, am I gonna miss meat for a while.¡± Royd laments as he bites into a peach.

    ¡°You''ll live, you glutton.¡± Kellar responds with a barbed tone. ¡°Do you have a second stomach where your brain should be, or what?¡±

    Royd swallows his bite and scowls. ¡°Sorry I''m not as used to being frugal with food as you, Mr. I-Used-To-Be-A-Traveling-Mercenary.¡± He then takes another bite of the peach while maintaining an annoyed expression.

    Zyra is curled up into a ball with her knees against her chest. She curiously watches Atticus''s horse, Annaliese, poke her head over the short wall of her stall while listlessly chewing on leftover hay.

    ¡°Atticus.¡± The young mage speaks up to the knight, who is sitting next to her. ¡°How long have you had her?¡± She points to Annaliese.

    ¡°Since the day I joined the royal guard.¡± He answers honestly. ¡°She was a gift. She''s been the only horse I''ve ridden ever since. She''s like family to me.¡± He then turns to the others. ¡°Speaking of which, how did everyone here get their horses?¡±

    ¡°My horse has always been mine.¡± Royd is the first to answer. ¡°His name is Lexen. Had him since the day he was born, because his mother lives with us, too.¡±

    ¡°The rest of us had to buy our horses before leaving Evatica.¡± Veros chimes in. ¡°Luckily, they were going for quite cheap, because wild horses from the north ¨C around here ¨C ran down south when the mist showed up, making them easier to catch and bring to Evatica stables. Owned horses from around here continue to become orphaned thanks to the mist as well.¡±

    Atticus remembers the conversation he had with the young woman, Edith, working at the stable back at Zenith Gate. She had lamented the rate at which horses were being orphaned, as well. Due to the high rate of Mistwalker deaths, many horses soon find themselves without owners after being taken across the barrier, and they usually make it back to the gates on their own, only to be sold off again there, or taken to Evatica. The knight quietly wonders if there are any horses who have been taken into the misted region multiple times by different riders.

    ¡°It''s good they were so cheap.¡± Kellar comments. ¡°I had only a limited amount of coin for this trip.¡±

    ¡°I have a question.¡± Royd interjects, leaning forward with inquisitive eyes. ¡°Why did you not just spend that money on whatever it is that''s forcing you to be so desperate for loot?¡±

    ¡°Because it ain''t enough.¡± The roguish man answers bluntly. ¡°I considered it an investment towards the potentially high amount of valuable items I thought I could discover while here.¡±

    ¡°What exactly is it that you need so much coin for, man?¡± The woodcutter, somewhat fed up with his comrade''s dire financial straits, burns with curiosity. ¡°You keep mentioning how much you need it, but you''ve never said why. What''s the problem? You got shady folks after you for not paying a debt or something?¡±

    ¡°No, you oaf.¡± Kellar sighs and shakes his head. After a pause, he ultimately decides to reveal his motives. ¡°Well, I own a house ¨C a big one. I was able to pay for it for a while with my old mercenary work and odd jobs that were... beyond the law.¡±

    ¡°Are you the only one in that house?¡± Royd asks.

    The former mercenary shakes his head. ¡°No. My wife is there.¡±

    ¡°You''re married?!¡± The brawny man throws his head back in surprise. The others are caught off guard, as well.

    ¡°What the hell''s so surprisin'' about that?!¡± Kellar yells, annoyed at the implication of Royd''s shock. ¡°You want me to tell my story or not, you big bastard?¡±

    Royd lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. ¡°Okay, okay.¡± He says. ¡°I apologize. Please, continue.¡±

    ¡°As I was sayin''...¡± The irate rogue resumes. ¡°Since givin'' up the mercenary and illegal work at the behest of my wife, I haven''t been able to pay for the house as well. Almost every penny I make goes towards it. We practically have no coin left for food.¡±

    ¡°I can''t imagine there are many lucrative careers for someone whose past experiences stayed in the shadows.¡± Royd remarks. ¡°You can''t just move into a smaller home? It''s only you two, isn''t it?¡±

    ¡°We considered it, but...¡± Kellar''s solemn gaze moves down, toward the lantern. ¡°She became pregnant. Her belly swelled up like a balloon in record time, and a physician said she''s probably carryin'' twins.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Royd narrows his eyes. ¡°She''s still pregnant? How far along is she right now?¡±

    ¡°Almost eight months.¡±

    ¡°Galliford''s beard, man!¡± The musclebound man reels his head back again. ¡°Your wife''s about to pop any day now and you''re out here?¡±

    ¡°I know how bad it is, alright?¡± Kellar scowls again. ¡°Her parents volunteered to help pay for the house, but they''re not very well-off, themselves.¡±

    ¡°Can she not work? After she gives birth, I mean.¡±

    ¡°She''s...¡± The somber ex-mercenary heaves another sigh. ¡°She''s not very employable.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡±

    ¡°She''s deaf and blind in her right ear and eye. And she''s a bit slow ¨C it takes a while for her to learn how to do things.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Royd nods, understanding his comrade''s situation. ¡°Yes, it does seem very difficult for a man in your position to maintain a hold on any sort of upper class property. But why come out here? Why not return to your underground or mercenary work again?¡±

    ¡°I''m tired of jobs that associate me with crime and criminals.¡± Kellar answers resolutely with a shake of his head. ¡°I''m sick of meetin'' shitty people and either havin'' to work with them or work for them. I spent my whole life around dirtbags, and now that I''m a grown man, I want to take the initiative to avoid them. It''s why I''m desperate to keep a nice house in a nice part of the city ¨C so my future kids don''t grow up like I did. By signin'' up to be a Mistwalker, I expose myself to more danger, yes, but I avoid the grime that''s been coverin'' me for years, and also don''t risk gettin'' arrested.¡±

 XVII. Past Lives (Section 3)

    Royd nods his head slowly, feeling empathy for his traveling companion. As another husband and father, he also understands how it feels to make a hard decision for the good of the family.

    ¡°Well...¡± The brawny man speaks up, placing a hand on his ex-criminal comrade''s shoulder. ¡°I understand how it feels to come out here with your wife and child in mind. You think of them as both the reason you signed up, and the reason you want to go back home. But we''re here to give them good lives in a Yhordran where this mist doesn''t exist anymore.¡±

    Kellar nods in agreement. ¡°Ain''t that the fuckin'' truth. If I make it back home, my next issue will be bein'' a good dad.¡±

    ¡°I think you''ll be a good dad.¡± Zyra suddenly speaks up. ¡°You''ve been really dependable while we''ve been out here. So I think you''d be a dependable parent, too.¡± She smiles warmly and encouragingly.

    The rogue laughs, feeling a bit bashful at the sudden praise. ¡°Well, if you think so, then I''ll take your word for it.¡±

    ¡°You''ve mostly just complained about things.¡± Royds interjects to tease his teammate. ¡°But despite your whining, you''ve managed to pull your weight.¡± He pats Kellar''s back an audible thump.

    ¡°You''re too kind.¡± Kellar replies sarcastically with an annoyed frown.

    Upon hearing his comrade''s story, Atticus quietly feels relieved that he found the ring and offered it to Kellar. He ruminates on the fact that the two men who have seemed to get along the least through the journey have found common ground on the revelation that they both have loved ones waiting for them to return. At first, the knight felt a tiny prick of envy, but soon realized that despite his self-exile, he still has friends and family in Threcia who almost certainly wonder about him on a regular basis.

    ¡°I must say, Kellar...¡± Veros''s authoritative voice is suddenly heard. ¡°I was a little bit skeptical of you when you first approached me back at the tavern in Evatica. You really did strike me as the type who would want to sign up for Mistwalker duty just to loot corpses. But, you''re here, way past the point you would be at if that really were all you wanted. I''m sorry for doubting you.¡±

    Kellar shakes his head. ¡°Nah, I don''t blame you for assuming I''d be like that. If this mist showed up five years ago, I''d have done exactly as you thought I would. I was one hell of an opportunist then. How about you? You were once a part of the Legion, right? Have you changed much since being discharged?¡±

    Veros''s face becomes stern as he considers his past. ¡°Yeah, I''d say so. I was quite eager to become part of a military as legendary as the Yhordran Legion, but...¡± He leans forward and stares at the slowly dimming latern. ¡°The Kudura war changed all that, though.¡±

    ¡°You were a part of that fuckin'' mess, huh?¡± Kellar asks, recalling the political discord of the time due to Yhordran''s participation.

    ¡°More than I wished.¡± The veteran becomes visibly bitter as he remembers his experiences during the conflict. ¡°I came out of that war a changed man, and not for the better.¡±

    ¡°At least you came out of it alive, right?¡± Royd comments, trying to offer some sort of a silver lining to the topic.

    Veros pauses for a moment to gaze at the dying flame in the lantern. His face grows more sullen. ¡°I have three younger siblings ¨C two brothers and one sister. My brothers were in the Legion at the time, too. Both of them. They were part of the Kudura war, as well. Neither of them made it.¡±

    ¡°Goodness...¡± The woodcutter utters in a softened voice, his attempt of reassurance brutally shot down. ¡°I''m sorry to hear that, friend. I truly am.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Veros replies with a small, somber nod. ¡°As the oldest child, I always blamed myself for not looking after them, thinking that I could''ve done something to prevent their deaths, but that would''ve been impossible, as we were in different regiments. And my parents...¡± He shakes his head. ¡°I also can''t overstate how devastated my parents were, and still are. Losing my brothers is why I lost faith in the crown and also stopped going to monastery sermons. It all felt so pointless.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Were you able to pick yourself up afterward?¡± Royd asks.

    ¡°It took some time, but I eventually realized that even though I had a grudge against the ones who rule over our country, I still wanted to be part of something that helped the people. So, I chose the best option available to me and joined the city guard.¡±

    ¡°You''re a city guardsman?¡± Kellar asks, surprised. ¡°You never mentioned that. Guess I should be glad I''m no longer doing any criminal work. How''d your superiors respond when you told them you were coming here?¡±

    ¡°They knew me well enough to not really be so surprised.¡± Veros admits with a shrug. ¡°Same with my parents, though they weren''t as accepting.¡±

    ¡°I''d imagine not.¡± Royd comments. ¡°They''re probably not keen on the idea of potentially losing their last son.¡±

    ¡°And I know that.¡± The veteran narrows his contemplative eyes as he reflects on his decision. ¡°But the idea of sitting around and waiting for someone else to save us when I''m ready and willing to do it myself just bothers me. I was never the kind of person to relinquish myself to complete inaction. Sometimes that stubborn attitude got me into trouble, honestly.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± the brawny man leans forward with a smile, ¡°I, for one, am glad you''re here to fight with us. You''ve been a very valuable asset to our team, and we might be lost without you.¡±

    ¡°Hell, this team might not exist without you.¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°If I hadn''t overheard you at the tavern, talkin'' about forming a group to travel with, then I wouldn''t have approached you. I probably would''ve wandered in here by my damn self and gotten killed by now.¡±

    Veros smiles, grateful of his comrades'' feelings. ¡°Thank you. I really appreciate your words.¡±

    After an evening of heart-to-heart discussions and self-reflective reminiscing on past lives, most of the Mistwalkers call it a night and finally decide to tuck themselves into their bedrolls, out of reach from the lantern''s almost totally faded glow. Atticus and Zyra are the last ones awake, watching the tiny flame dance daintily in the heavy air.

    ¡°Everyone really has their plates full in their normal lives, don''t they?¡± The mage remarks at a softened volume to not disturb her teammates'' sleep. ¡°But they took it upon themselves to still come out here. They''re all really strong people.¡±

    ¡°If we were to complete our mission,¡± Atticus responds, also keeping his voice lowered, ¡°and actually be able to find the source of the mist and destroy it, how do you think your parents would react?¡±

    Zyra smiles while imagining the scenario. ¡°Well, they''d be ecstatic ¨C especially after they''ve finished yelling at me for coming here in the first place. I appreciate how much they try to look after me, but it''s a little overbearing sometimes. It''s why I didn''t even tell them that I was becoming a Mistwalker. How about you?¡± She turns to look Atticus in the eyes. ¡°If you saved Yhordran, is there anyone in Threcia you''d be eager to tell?¡±

    ¡°A few people.¡± The knight answers. ¡°I''d want to tell my old commander, but he''d probably act as if that was something expected of me to begin with.¡±

    ¡°A commander like that must''ve been a real slave driver.¡±

    ¡°He was.¡± Atticus nods as a small smirk appears on his face. ¡°But he''s the type who just wants his men to be the best versions of themselves.¡±

    ¡°If you don''t mind me asking,¡± Zyra becomes slightly meek as she steers the conversation in a more personal direction, ¡°how did he react to you leaving?¡±

    A dejected expression washes over the knight''s face. ¡°He didn''t really try to dissuade me. But I knew he understood why I wanted to go.¡± He lets out a small sigh. ¡°I regret not taking the time to write a letter or something before taking part in this mission. But since we left Terrance, I''ve begun to seriously think about returning. Maybe it would give me a better sense of closure than wandering around for the rest of my life.¡±

    ¡°Don''t forget to take me with you.¡± Zyra playfully nudges him with her elbow.

    Another smile crosses Atticus''s face. ¡°I guess I did promise, huh? You sure it won''t interfere with your studies?¡±

    ¡°If anything, it''ll bolster them.¡± She responds with confidence.

    ¡°In that case, I''ll introduce you to my old pyromancy teacher ¨C the one who smacked me on the head every time it took longer than five seconds for me to cast a spell.¡±

    ¡°I can appreciate a challenge.¡± The mage responds, the end of her sentence trailing off into a yawn.

    ¡°Are you going to sleep now?¡±

    ¡°In a bit.¡± Zyra answers amidst a subtle, sleepy sigh. ¡°You?¡±

    ¡°In a bit.¡± The knight echos.

    After a pause, Zyra leans to the side to rest her head on Atticus''s shoulder. He doesn''t move or say anything to suggest discomfort. The two continue to quietly bask in the dim glow of the small lantern flame.

 XVIII. Pincer (Section 1)

    The Mistwalkers'' first night sleeping in an area that''s not fortified or protected by the Legion thankfully goes without disruption, both for them and their horses. In the following morning, they rise early enough to catch the beginning of sunlight illuminating the land. They all eat a small but serviceable breakfast of foods they brought with them from Terrance before collecting their bedrolls, reequipping their weapons and armor, and re-saddling their horses.

    ¡°So, how far are we going today?¡± Kellar asks while tightening his thick leather armor chest piece. ¡°There''s a couple small villages on our way for the next forty or so miles.¡±

    ¡°I checked the map a few minutes ago.¡± Veros answers, strapping his scabbard around his waist. ¡°The first is only about sixteen miles north, which is too close for us to stay at. The second is about twenty-two miles after that ¨C Kildare. That''s where we''ll stay.¡±

    ¡°So by the end of the day,¡± Royd chimes in after swallowing a bite of his morning apple, ¡°we''ll be less than one hundred miles from Armasstadt. What an unbelievable thought. I feel like we''ve had a somewhat easy journey so far.¡±

    ¡°Well, don''t fuckin'' jinx it, genius.¡± Kellar snaps at the woodcutter. ¡°And ''easy''? Are you nuts? Did you forget Levinburg? Or the big bastard we fought before Rosemont?¡±

    ¡°I''m just saying I expected a few more closes calls, is all.¡± Royd responds with a shrug. ¡°I''m glad we made it this far unscathed, and I hope this pattern continues.¡±

    ¡°I think the fact that we''re traveling in a larger-than-average party helps a bit.¡± Veros comments on the subject. ¡°From what I''ve heard, teams usually stay at round three or four, occasionally five. Though it''s usually the looters who stay in such small numbers so findings are split in fewer ways.¡±

    Kellar scoffs. ¡°Then they fall into the trap of convincin'' themselves to travel further north when they find nothin'' of value closer to the barrier, like I was sayin'' to myself not too long ago. Either way, let''s not count our chickens before they hatch, alright? Things could still get messy in these last couple days.¡±

    ¡°Fair point.¡± Veros concedes as he slings his bow across his back. ¡°We shouldn''t get complacent just because we''re getting close to our goal.¡±

    Before they depart, Atticus undoes the chains keeping the front double doors shut and opens them just enough for him to walk through, peering out into the foggy open of the northern section of Arrenstead. Standing a few steps out into the grey wilderness, he turns around to examine the entire perimeter, eyeing the misty wall surrounding the barn. He notices no shady figures, threatening shapes, or advancing silhouettes. However, before he returns to the interior of the barn, a faint sound is heard ¨C echoes of distant stomps similar to the sound of horse hooves slamming against the ground at a regular pace. It grows more and more imperceptible until it''s gone entirely. Perplexed, and with little reason or method to pursue the source of the eerie noise, he returns inside the barn.

    ¡°Anything out there?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°No, nothing.¡± The knight shakes his head, but a tinge of confusion is still clear on his face. ¡°But I heard a sound off in the distance.¡±

    ¡°Of what?¡±

    ¡°Sounded like a horse sprinting away.¡± Atticus explains, but he isn''t positive if that really was the cause of the noise.

    ¡°I heard a sound like that yesterday.¡± Zyra adds suddenly. ¡°While we were still on our way to Arrenstead, I could''ve sworn I heard the sound of a horse running somewhere in the distance, but I couldn''t see anything behind the mist.¡±

    ¡°That''s odd.¡± Veros furrows his brow and considers the statements of his two teammates. ¡°I highly doubt any wild horses would still be around, and if it were another Mistwalker, I can''t imagine why they wouldn''t be on the road.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Hey.¡± Kellar chimes in with a worried frown. ¡°If Zyra heard it yesterday, and Atticus heard it just now, then wouldn''t it mean it''s following us? That Misha girl from Terrance mentioned encountering an undead rider.¡±

    ¡°The little evidence we have right now does support that theory, unfortunately.¡± The veteran admits with a frustrated sigh. ¡°But we shouldn''t jump to conclusions, or go out of our way to search for a fight. We''ll stick to making our way north like usual, but we''ll keep our eyes and ears open.¡±

    ¡°You sure it''s okay to let whatever it is keep skulkin'' along in the mist, stalkin'' us?¡± The rogue inquires with increasing paranoia.

    ¡°If we wander off the road to look for it, we''d only make things more difficult for ourselves.¡± Veros sternly orders. ¡°In fact, that could be what it wants. We''d be sitting ducks caught in a panic without the guidance of the road. We need to stay patient and aware.¡±

    Kellar sighs and concedes with a shrug, quietly agreeing that being passive is ultimately the best idea for now.

    Veros continues. ¡°Now, if everyone''s all set to leave, then we can continue north before we burn more daylight.¡±

    With everyone requipped and all the horses resaddled, the Mistwalkers finally decide to depart Arrenstead and proceed with their journey to Armasstadt, which grows closer by the day. Now, with a potential threat looming over them ¨C the source of the ominous horse gallops, which has yet to reveal itself ¨C the group isn''t granted any respite from the possibility of more dangerous encounters.

    Traveling in the same formation they''ve established yesterday, the first few miles of the day''s ride is tame and uneventful, but trees have started to become more common, becoming taller and thicker as they progress northward.

    ¡°Are we coming upon another forest?¡± Atticus, unfamiliar with the land, asks Veros.

    ¡°We are.¡± The veteran answers. ¡°It''s not terribly dense, but the treeline doesn''t help our visibility much for trying to see things beyond the roadside.¡±

    The knight furrows his brow, contemplative of the potential consequences that riding through a forest might bear for them. ¡°You know,¡± he begins, ¡°if we were to be ambushed, then some distance into the forest would be the best place to do it.¡±

    ¡°I''m aware.¡± Veros responds bluntly. ¡°But it''s not like we have much of a choice. We can''t abandon the road and wander into the trees.¡±

    Atticus quietly acknowledges the truth in the statement. The last time the group traveled through a forest was around Levinburg, which had treelines that were nigh impenetrable. However, it was also some days ago, when the mist wasn''t as thick, either. With no alternative way to avoid any dangers on the road, the group stays the path.

    A few more hours of quiet, alert riding passes, and they''ve long since entered the forest proper. Trees of varying size line the side of the road, with even more trees beyond them. As usual, no sounds or signs of life can be heard from the foliage despite the density. The total lack of any encounters with hostiles since leaving Arrenstead strikes the group as an oddity which could be a blessing that has fallen upon them due to traveling at the right time, or an ill omen. They soon come across a wooden sign on the road, reading ''RODARE, TWO MILES''. Veros holds his hand up to stop the group.

    ¡°We''re approaching the first village of the two we''ll be coming across today.¡± He announces. ¡°When we get there, we''ll do the usual clearing procedure.¡±

    ¡°Hold on a second.¡± Kellar interrupts. ¡°We haven''t seen a single undead all morning. Doesn''t this strike you as a bit weird? Aren''t they supposed to be more common up here?¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I''ve noticed.¡± Veros responds with a matter-of-fact tone. ¡°It''s a bit ominous, but we can''t afford to deviate from our usual process because we''ve grown anxious. Our options are limited. I don''t know how many more times I can word that.¡±

    ¡°Look, all I''m sayin'' is that I think we''re walkin'' into somethin'' bad.¡± The rogue tries to clarify his position. ¡°I just want us to discuss what we''re gonna do when it happens. I don''t want to walk into that village without some sense of solidarity, here.¡±

    The veteran sighs. ¡°Well, there''s not much we can do aside from stick to our formation. I''m very aware that this forest would be an ideal spot for some sort of ambush, but I can''t begin to know when and where it would happen.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Kellar nods, content with acknowledgement that an ambush is likely to happen. ¡°So, when an ambush occurs, what then? How do we stand our ground?¡±

    ¡°Atticus and I cover the front of the party, and you and Royd cover the rear, as usual.¡± Veros answers with the speculative knowledge he has of this hypothetical battle. ¡°Depending on the enemy''s numbers, we might need to force our way forward rather than risk a prolonged fight.¡±

    ¡°How do we push forward if we don''t want to risk injuring the horses?¡±

    ¡°I think I know a spell that can help with that.¡± Atticus interjects with his own suggestion. ¡°It won''t necessarily clear a path, but it will make it easier to escape.¡±

    ¡°Well, alright.¡± Kellar nods, now much calmer than he was when the discussion happened. He takes a deep breath to steel his nerves. ¡°Okay, let''s go.¡± He urges the team forward.

 XVIII. Pincer (Section 2)

    Veros leads the way, resuming their approach to Rodare. In the back of their minds, all six Mistwalkers expect some sort of fight at the village, with nothing to support their hypothesis except the strange galloping sounds they''ve heard twice before, and the fact that no walking corpses have been encountered since departing Arrenstead. Their instincts simply scream at them that something strange is afoot, and they''ve grown inclined to believe it.

    When the first buildings of Rodare come into sight in the middle of a clearing, the four men at the front and back of the group dismount their horses and they slowly make their way to the village center. Atticus and Veros go out of their way to inspect the small homes that reside along the path, finding no traces of active undead. The process is slightly hurried here compared to Arrenstead, as they only seek to pass through instead of rest for the night, and they''ve grown anxious at the self-imposed fear of an ambush.

    Before long, they come upon intersecting roads that cut across the middle of the village, leading towards all four cardinal directions. Atticus looks at the dirt beneath his feet and stops walking.

    ¡°Veros.¡± He calls to his comrade.

    ¡°Yes? What''s wrong?¡± The veteran responds.

    ¡°Look.¡± The knight points toward the ground at the center of the intersection. Veros turns his head to see a vast collection of footprints coming from the east, west, and south, merging together and heading north.

    ¡°What on earth?¡± The veteran utters as he leers at the dirt. ¡°There must be about, I don''t know, forty or fifty sets of footprints heading north out of the village.¡±

    Atticus walks forward, approaching the northern road, and kneels to inspect the prints further. ¡°Here,¡± he announces, ¡°a set of horse footprints, too.¡± He points out hoof-shaped prints, barely perceptible underneath the gathering of human-shaped ones.

    ¡°I guess this explains the absence of undead in the area.¡± Veros guesses. ¡°They do seem somewhat fresh, considering they''re all going in one direction.¡±

    ¡°Where the hell would they go?¡± Kellar asks, both puzzled and frustrated. ¡°I''m tired of wonderin'' when these bastards are gonna pop out and attack me.¡±

    ¡°Either way, it doesn''t seem that any fights will be happening here in Rodare.¡± Veros replies. ¡°We might as well just mount and continue ahead. But now that we know they''ve all moved north, we should be careful, because we could still run into them while we''re on the road.¡±

    ¡°Fuckin'' hell.¡± Kellar curses under his breath, sick of being anxious and constantly looking over his shoulder.

    ¡°Let''s go.¡± The team leader announces as he mounts his horse. The group proceeds forward, no longer interested in clearing out Rodare with the usual, slow procedure after seeing the footprints.

    After leaving the village, the group keeps their eyes on the cluster of footprints leading down the road for an unknown distance. It''s hard to gauge the exact number of individuals that make up the collection, but it''s obvious that it''s made of a few dozen separate sets. With this in mind, the Mistwalkers cautiously anticipate a possible run-in with the alleged horde.

    Another few miles pass, and they still haven''t encountered any undead. Veros, however, notices something odd with the footprints below them.

    ¡°Is it just me,¡± he begins, ¡°or are some of the prints starting to veer off the road? Like that.¡± He points to an upcoming, isolated trail that turns and steps off to the roadside, where the rocks and grass conceal them.

    ¡°I think I noticed a few of them do the same thing earlier.¡± Atticus remarks. ¡°What are they planning?¡±

    Veros turns his head to examine the tree line, but notices no movement among the foliage. The plant life is completely still ¨C at least what he can see before the wall of fog covers everything. ¡°I have no idea.¡± He answers, unsure of where the deviated undead could possibly be. ¡°I haven''t seen or heard a single sign of undead off the road. Everything''s been still. Eerily so.¡±

    Rather than continue speculating the reasons, they decide to continue following the road. Slowly but surely, more and more sets of footprints begin to fall off the trail and turn from the path, thinning the cluster of prints significantly in only another few miles. They silently begin to doubt the existence of an ambush, as even though the prints go off the road, no movement has even been noticed behind the tree line, suggesting they''ve all simply spread out and probably aren''t in the area anymore. As they began to suspect, the trail eventually thins enough that only the horse prints remain.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°They''ve all left the road.¡± Veros comments. ¡°I don''t understand. An undead veers off the path every several hundred feet for no discernible reason, but I haven''t seen activity along the roadside. Did something distract them?¡±

    Atticus furrows his brow in bewilderment, as equally perplexed by the development as his companion. He second-guesses any idea that enemies lie in wait for the group somewhere ahead and begins to entertain the thought that this was all some sort of strange coincidence. Otherwise, what sort of advantage would be given to the undead horde by splitting up in such a way? After a deeply pensive moment of deliberating, the knight is struck by a thought. He quickly turns his shoulders and head to look behind the team, into the nigh impenetrable grey mist at their south.

    ¡°Did you see something?¡± Veros asks, distracted by the knight''s sudden movement.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Atticus responds, holding his hand up. ¡°We need to stop for a moment.¡± He announces to the others, and they all halt their horses.

    ¡°What''s wrong?¡± The veteran asks again, puzzled at the sudden sense of urgency.

    ¡°I think we''re being followed.¡± The knight answers, gazing with extreme intensity at the road back south.

    Veros looks at the southern fog, as well. ¡°Followed? You think they sneaked around to our backs?¡±

    ¡°Just a hunch.¡± Atticus gives a short, vague answer without turning to look at his comrade''s face. ¡°Let''s just wait a minute.¡±

    The others, unsure of the knight''s intuition but with no other leads, decide to stop and quietly watch the nebulous, constantly-shifting fog to the south. An uncomfortable silence shrouds them as they all refuse to take theirs eyes off the road leading back to Rodare. The leaves of the trees are unstirred, and due to their stillness, even the usual sound of their horses'' hooves thumping against the dirt are gone. Moment after moment passes, and the group begins to develop a sense of unease and vulnerability by simply standing there and doing nothing.

    ¡°I really don''t think anythin''s behind us.¡± Kellar comments nervously. ¡°How could all those undead¨C¡±

    ¡°Just wait another moment.¡± Atticus uncharacteristically cuts him off with a firm demand to stay patient. Not willing to argue with the tense knight, Kellar returns to anxiously watching the mist at their south.

    More suspenseful seconds pass, and Atticus starts to become agitated. His fists tightly grasp the reins of his horse and his jaw clenches with anticipation. Isolated beads of sweat slide down the side of his face as he leers at the grey abyss without a single blink. He knows that he could probably speed this process up by riding back south a ways, but if his hunch is true, then that could be extremely dangerous. The only option he has is to sit and wait. Just as the group begins to turn impatient, Erik lifts his hand and points.

    ¡°There.¡± The noble says, directing everyone''s attention into the colorless mist.

    Atticus narrows his eyes and finally sees what he had hoped not to: an armed undead with its shield raised, slowly pacing forward, advancing towards the group. However, a second shadowy figure emerges from the fog right after the first: another armed undead. Then a third, then a fourth, then a fifth.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Veros asks, shocked at the presence of the hostile corpses. ¡°They fuckin'' did sneak up on us!¡±

    ¡°The footprints.¡± The knight answers. ¡°They knew the footprints would keep our attention ahead of us, and used it to get to our backs. They must''ve stayed hidden behind the treeline and waited for us to pass them, and followed us by staying behind the fog.¡±

    ¡°Cheeky fuckin'' bastards.¡± Kellar curses.

    More necrotic foes appear from the veil; a sixth, then a seventh, then an eighth; there''s seemingly no end to them. Just as their vast numbers start to become apparent, they suddenly break into a run, charging at the dumbfounded Mistwalkers who were successfully caught off guard despite acknowledging the likelihood of an ambush earlier.

    ¡°The fuck do we do?!¡± Kellar yells in a panic.

    ¡°We run!¡± The knight orders, turning his horse to face north and breaking off into a sprint with the others following him. As his horse gallops with great speed towards the north, Atticus turns to watch the charging undead fall behind and once again become lost to the mist. To ensure their safety, they don''t stop there, and continue to rush forward to put as much distance between themselves and horde as possible. However, after only about a half mile''s dash, a tall silhouette impedes their path.

    ¡°Wait!¡± Atticus, who is at the front of the retreating group, commands everyone to stop.

    Their horses come to a halt and they stare ahead at the approaching shadow. It steps forward, revealing itself to be not only another undead, but Legion cavalry sitting atop a necrotic, near-completely skeletal steed. Unfortunately, it''s not alone. Accompanying it is its own platoon of armed corpses wielding bows and swords.

    ¡°Fuck...¡± Kellar utters, the color practically draining from his face at the seemingly hopeless situation they''ve caught themselves in. He turns around, expecting the horde to catch up, but they haven''t just yet.

    ¡°We need to clear a path, Atticus.¡± Vero calls to the knight with urgency. ¡°I hope you can perform that spell you mentioned earlier.¡±

    ¡°We need to get rid of that rider, first.¡± The knight responds. ¡°Quickly.¡±

    ¡°Dismount!¡± The team leader yells. He, Atticus, Royd, and Kellar immediately climb down from their horses. ¡°Royd! Kellar! Keep an eye on the rear!¡±

    ¡°Aye!¡± Royd yells in acknowledgment. The woodcutter and rogue turtle behind their shields, their eyes keenly but anxiously watching the southern side of the road.

 XVIII. Pincer (Section 3)

    Atticus takes several steps forward and lifts his left hand, his palm turned to the right, index and middle fingers extended, his ring finger and pinky folded, and his thumb pressed flat against the side.

    The undead rider, knowing that the knight is preparing a spell, unsheathes its rusted sword and lifts it, pointing it toward the Mistwalkers. It unleashes a hideous, ghastly warcry, which incites the other troops around it to rush the group of living fighters, weapons drawn. The rider urges his decomposed horse to sprint ahead too, passing the hostiles on foot and fastly approaching the knight, who stands his ground. The handful of reanimated bowmen begin to loose their arrows.

    ¡°Erik!¡± Veros, lifting his shield to defend himself against the ranged attacks, desperately calls out to the noble to give more commands. ¡°Get rid of the archers!¡±

    The noble complies without a word, and begins to nock and loose arrows with as much speed as his highly trained arms can muster. One by one, he manages to eliminate the enemy bowmen before they can overwhelm the group at range.

    The rotted cavalry lifts its sword, descending upon the knight with intimidating speed, but before the Legion soldier is close enough to strike, a flash of white bursts from Atticus''s fingertips, and the reanimated horse''s head explodes into a gory mess. Its body crumbles and slides due to the momentum, and the armored corpse hits the ground with a loud thud, rolling like a ragdoll before being stopped by the knight''s foot. The undead looks up helplessly in time to witness Atticus drive the end of his sword into its neck, piercing its flesh and severing its brain stem. Sadly, the loss of their leader does not stop the remainder of the rotted pack from continuing their charge.

    ¡°Spherus Infernum!¡± Zyra''s voice is heard, and a sudden fiery explosion catches three rushing undead in one spell.

    ¡°Keep that up, Zyra!¡± Atticus yells to the mage. ¡°Cover me while I try to cast!¡±

    The pyromancer continues to lob fireball after fireball at the rushing horde, engulfing multiple targets in one blasts, and Erik continues sniping with amazing speed and accuracy. The occasional undead that manages to nearly reach the Mistwalkers is stopped and killed by Veros. However, more and more hostile cadavers continue to pour out from behind the grey wall of fog, becoming greater in number and denser in formation. At this rate, they''ll be overwhelmed in a few moments.

    Atticus tries to concentrate under the constant pressure. He holds his left hand up, palm facing to the right. His pinky and ring finger are folded, and his index and middle fingers are extended. Unlike Air Cutter, now his thumb is extended too, perpendicular to the side of his hand. He attempts to channel his focus by taking some deep breaths despite the chaos around him.

    ¡°Oh, fuck!¡± Kellar''s frightened voice is heard. ¡°Hey!¡± He yells to get the attention of those fighting to oncoming forces at the front. ¡°They''re here!¡±

    Erik whips his head around to the group''s rear, and the undead horde they ran away from mere moments ago have already caught up, emerging from the cover of the mist, one by one, in increasing volume.

    ¡°Shit.¡± Erik curses, realizing he''s unable to cover both the northern and southern side of the team''s position. Ultimately, he decides to aid Royd and Kellar defend the south, while Zyra continues to lob more fireballs to the north, where their numbers proceed to steadily increase.

    ¡°Atticus!¡± Veros yells in desperation between short encounters with enemies that manage to avoid the fiery explosions and approach them. ¡°Hurry and cast!¡±

    The knight silently acknowledges the urgency of the situation, still trying to gain the focus to conjure the powerful magic he mentioned that would help them escape an ambush. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and takes a deep breath. He can hear his teammates strain themselves ¨C Veros bashing away foes, Zyra grunting as she flings flaming orbs, Erik uncharacteristically yelling in frustration, his arms and shoulders burning from the volume of arrows he''s firing. The knight exhales.

    ¡°Aeza Infernum.¡± He whispers underneath his breath and turns his hand to face his palm forward while still maintaining the gesture. A long breath of fire spews from his hand continuously, scorching the charging undead up to thirty feet in front of him. As the inferno rages from his palm, he steps forward and slowly swings his arm from side to side to catch more enemies in its range.

    ¡°Good Gods.¡± Veros utters, stepping back to escape the spell''s heat, amazed at the spectacle.

    ¡°Whoa...¡± Zyra, pausing from her attacks as well, stares in instinctive admiration.

    Atticus continues to maintain the fire, setting dozens of oncoming necrotic foes aflame. They begin to drop and flail around in desperate attempts to free themselves from the infernal embrace, but to very little success. Finally, the northern horde''s numbers begin to slow, and only stragglers begin to show up, but the knight still doesn''t wish to let the spell go. Overwhelmed by the mental strain, he starts to become dizzy. He blinks erratically and shakes his head to overcome it.

    ¡°Atticus!¡± Zyra yells to him, noticing his behavior. ¡°Release the spell!¡±

    Barely hearing his comrade, the knight finally stops conjuring the fire from his palm and stumbles forward, falling to one knee. No longer used to the mental effort, he suffers a moment of deliriousness.Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Zyra!¡± Erik calls to the pyromancer. ¡°Behind us!¡±

    She turns her head to see a number of undead charging at them from the south. She begins to throw more fireballs, but at a decreased speed, clearly feeling the effects of mental strain, herself.

    ¡°Atticus...¡± Veros walks up the knight. ¡°Come on, we need to leave!¡± The veteran grabs his teammate''s arm and hoists him up. ¡°Can you stand?¡±

    ¡°I can.¡± Atticus quickly responds. ¡°Let''s go.¡± He wastes no time exerting his last bit of strength to walk back to his horse and mount her.

    ¡°Mount your horses!¡± Veros yells to Royd and Kellar, who are trying to fight off undead who escape the ranged attacks of the archer and mage. They quickly comply once they receive a moment''s respite from the onslaught. They climb atop their steeds as Erik and Zyra continue to hold off some of the approaching forces.

    Noticing that everyone''s mounted again, Veros quickly orders everyone to retreat to the north. ¡°We''re leaving! Now!¡±

    The six horses break off into another sprint, bashing into or trampling on some of the fiery undead that were lit aflame by the knight''s spell. The enemies from the south slowly fall behind, but before they become totally obscured by the thick fog, a single reanimated archer looses an arrow that manages to catch up to the rear-most Mistwalker, Royd, and lodges itself in the back of his left shoulder.

    ¡°Agh!¡± The bulky man lets out a cry.

    ¡°Royd!¡± Kellar, who is slightly ahead of him, hears the scream and turns. ¡°Are you okay?!¡±

    ¡°My shoulder!¡± The woodcutter replies, leaning forward in his saddle in pain.

    ¡°We''ll take a look at it soon!¡± The rogue offers some reassurance as the retreat persists. ¡°Just hold on!¡±

    After riding for about three miles, Veros finally holds his hand up to stop the retreat. ¡°Hold!¡± He commands, halting himself and the others behind him. ¡°How is everyone?¡±

    ¡°My shoulder''s feeling a bit itchy, Veros.¡± Royd''s facetious but pained voice is heard. The veteran notices the arrow sticking out of his comrade''s back.

    ¡°Damn.¡± Veros curses in frustration. ¡°We''re still a ways from Kildare ¨C about ten miles. We should probably take a look at it while we have a moment to take a breath. I brought some medical supplies with me, and we''re lucky to have not needed them until now.¡± He climbs off his horse while retrieving a tied up small sack full of medical materials, and approaches his injured teammate. ¡°Come. Climb down.¡± He holds his hand out to assist Royd in dismounting.

    ¡°You sure it''s okay stop now?¡± Kellar asks, eyeing the southern path, expecting more undead to emerge from it despite the distance.

    ¡°Only for a moment to assess Royd''s wound.¡± Veros answers, examining the brawny man''s back.

    ¡°It keeps shaking around while I''m riding.¡± Royd complains about the arrow. ¡°It stings like a real bastard. Can you pull it out?¡±

    ¡°I think I can without worrying about much blood loss.¡± The veteran answers, closely inspecting the injury. Royd''s leather armor and the fact he was riding with the direction of the arrow had prevented it from going particularly deep. ¡°It''s quite loose, so it''ll probably fall out in a bit, anyway. It''ll hurt, though. Are you ready?¡±

    ¡°As I''ll ever be.¡± The bulky warrior responds, already clenching his jaw.

    ¡°Here it goes.¡± Veros clasps the shaft the arrow and tugs it out in one swift movement. Royd lets out a muffled groan of pain, and the veteran tosses the bloody arrow off to the roadside. ¡°We''ll need to take your armor off so I can get a good look at it, okay?¡±

    Royd nods sheepishly, trying to overcome the sharp stinging. ¡°Okay...¡± he musters.

    As Veros assists Royd in removing his chest piece, Zyra approaches Atticus, who is hanging his head and rubbing his temples.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± The mage asks, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I saw you strain yourself to maintain the spell. If you held on to it any longer, you probably would''ve passed out.¡±

    ¡°I''m fine now.¡± The knight responds, still softly pressing his fingertips against the sides of his head. ¡°I''m not used to the focus needed to keep such a strong spell up for so long.¡± His mouth curves into a half-smile and he turns his head enough to look her in the eyes. ¡°Told you I was out of practice.¡±

    ¡°Well, you did what you had to do to get us out of there safely.¡± Zyra continues to comfort him with a smile. ¡°And you looked... really amazing doing it.¡± She bashfully compliments him. ¡°I''ve actually never seen Fire Breath used in person before.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Atticus graciously accepts her kind words. ¡°I look forward to seeing you do that spell some day, as well.¡±

    Zyra smiles, quietly accepting his encouragement. Meanwhile, Veros has managed to removed Royd''s armor and rip open his cotton shirt underneath it to examine his wound better.

    ¡°I think you''ll need to be stitched up, friend.¡± The veteran comments. ¡°Unfortunately, we''re not in a suitable environment for that right now, but I''ll disinfect it and give you some cloth to apply pressure with.¡±

    ¡°Stitches...¡± Royd laments his fate with a shake of his head. ¡°I''ve gotten stitches a few times in my life, and I can''t describe a more excruciating experience.¡±

    Kellar''s scoff is heard suddenly. ¡°Big fella like you is afraid of needles?¡±

    ¡°Oh, leave me alone, you sniveling twerp.¡± The big man fires back.

    Veros retrieves a corked bottle of disinfectant from his sack of medical supplies. ¡°Alright, stand still. This is going to sting.¡± He removes the cork and slowly pours the burning liquid into Royd''s wound. The painful sensation causes the brawny fellow to wince and muffle his groans. After that, Veros presses a square piece of cloth against the wound. ¡°Think you can hold it like this for a while?¡±

    Royd nods. ¡°I think so.¡± He brings his right hand over his left shoulder to hold the cloth in place by himself.

    ¡°If you''re lucky,¡± the team leader continues, ¡°the wound will stop bleeding before we reach Kildare and you won''t need those stitches.¡±

    ¡°Gods willing.¡± The woodcutter remarks with dread in his eyes.

    ¡°I can''t believe we expected an ambush of some sort and they still caught us by surprise.¡± Kellar gripes.

    ¡°This is just my guess, but I think they acted under order of that undead rider.¡± Atticus gives his thoughts on the matter. ¡°He seemed to be in charge of the plan. Either way, we underestimated their ability to strategize. It''s a bit embarrassing we allowed them to trail us for so long, but the mist also made it extremely easy for them.¡±

    ¡°We should keep going. Kildare''s still about a three hour ride away.¡± Veros states as he assists Royd back onto his horse before mounting his own again. ¡°If we''re all set, then let''s go.¡±

    After collecting themselves following the short but intense battle, the six Mistwalkers finally proceed north at a calmer pace, though every once in a while, they find themselves turning around to ensure nothing is behind them.

 XIX. Heroism (Section 1)

    The group has finally managed to catch their breath after the horrific run-in with yet another massive horde of violent undead, and are now proceeding to the village of Kildare, which is still a few hours'' ride away. Still not totally cured of his headache, Atticus continues to rub his temples in an attempt to alleviate the pain. Veros, riding next to him, notices.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± The veteran asks. ¡°Casting that spell seems to have done quite a number on you.¡±

    ¡°I''ll probably have this headache for the rest of the day.¡± The knight responds with his head hanging and eyes closed. ¡°This is what happens when you strain your mind too much when casting a high level spell. Mental preparation is important when it comes to magic.¡±

    ¡°I imagine that was another four-stone spell?¡±

    Atticus nods. ¡°Yes, it was. One of the strongest ¨C probably the last one the university teaches to their pyromancy students before they graduate, if I were to wager a guess. It''s called ''Fire Breath''.¡±

    ¡°An apt name. It was quite fascinating to see.¡± Veros comments, recalling the awe-striking spectacle of the raging fire emerging from his comrade''s hand and lighting numerous hostiles aflame. ¡°And it did indeed help us escape, like you said it would.¡±

    ¡°If I had been able to cast it faster, we could''ve escaped sooner, and Royd probably wouldn''t have gotten hit by that arrow.¡± The knight doubts himself while still keeping his head low to try and quell the dull pain in his skull.

    ¡°You can''t blame yourself for that.¡± The veteran tries to ease the Threcian''s mind. ¡°If you hadn''t cast that spell at all we almost certainly would have gotten overwhelmed and killed by now. You did your part, and you did it well. We''re all alive thanks to you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Atticus replies, appreciating the reassurance. He takes a deep breath and finally picks up his head. ¡°So, what do we do when we reach Kildare? The usual?¡±

    ¡°Well, it''s not like we have a choice. Why? Do you think the leftovers from the ambush might still bother following us?¡±

    ¡°Hard to say. They lost their leader, and their numbers have been cut down by half, if I''m being somewhat generous. Plus, they''re at least a few miles behind us as it is, assuming they are trying to follow. Those are reasons enough for them to give up.¡± The knight heaves a sigh, considering possible courses of action the enemy might take. ¡°But if I were them, it''d probably still be worth it to try and attack us in the middle of the night, while we try to sleep. Probably.¡±

    Veros shakes his head. ¡°So, we might need someone to be a lookout, after all. I was hoping to avoid that.¡±

    ¡°Well, once we find a building to hole up in, you and I can take one quick patrol back down south a mile or two to catch any pursuers. If we don''t come across any, then maybe a lookout won''t be needed, after all. With the thickness of the fog, they wouldn''t see much, anyway.¡±

    ¡°That sounds doable.¡± The veteran nods in agreement with the idea. ¡°We should be able to finish that just before it becomes too dark out.¡±

    ¡°We should also try and find a building that isn''t directly along the main road ¨C something that''s a bit out of the way.¡± Atticus offers another precautious idea.

    ¡°Agreed. We''ll do that.¡±

    With their plan set in stone, the Mistwalkers continue to Kildare, reaching it after another three hours of calm riding, free of any other violent encounters. Before entering the village proper, they take the opportunity to discuss their approach, as they''ve grown used to doing.

    ¡°Royd, you switch places with Erik.¡± Veros orders the injured woodcutter to take a more secure position at the middle of the group. ¡°Guarding the rear is too much to ask when you can''t even lift your shield at the moment.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd responds and nods with little energyTaken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°And also, Erik, how are you on arrows? I know you used up quite a few and we didn''t have the time to pick them up again, obviously.¡±

    ¡°I used up a little more than half of them.¡± The noble responds, showing his nearly empty quiver. ¡°But I''m sure it''s enough for now.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Veros nods, more or less ready to continue with the daily village-clearing procedure. ¡°Before we start, we should look for a house or something that isn''t directly along the main road, just in case. So, if everyone''s ready, let''s dismount.¡±

    Veros, Atticus, Kellar, and Erik climb down their horses, the former two guiding the group from the front and the latter two guiding from behind. Zyra stays on her horse in the middle of the formation like usual, while Royd joins her thanks to his injury. They all begin to cautiously walk into Kildare, mindful of their surroundings. The two men on point inspect the smaller homes that line either side of the road, never discovering any hostile undead in hiding or locked away.

    When they approach the approximate center of the village, they decide to turn and venture to the eastern side of Kildare to find a suitable building that''s away from the main road, just as they planned. They soon come across a respectably large home that has a fenced-in back yard behind it, perfect for the horses.

    ¡°I think this house should be fine.¡± Veros comments, content with the size and the the sturdy waist-high fence protecting the yard. ¡°Let''s see what the interior is like.¡±

    The two men enter the abandoned home from the front door, and are greeted with the usual sight of leftovers from a hasty exit by the home''s previous owners. The living room is large and open, with a big fire pit in the center. A table and chairs are nearby, along with mostly empty shelves and cupboards. Atticus walks into the short hallway leading to two bedrooms, which are also mostly empty aside from beds, some small furniture, and various articles of clothing left behind.

    ¡°Everything looks clear.¡± The knight announces, walking back to the living room.

    ¡°Seems so.¡± Veros replies while looking over the remaining pieces of eating utensils and cloths. ¡°What do you think? Will this do for the night?¡±

    ¡°I''d say so.¡± Atticus answers with a nod.

    The six Mistwalkers decide on their home until the morning and all except Veros and Atticus guide their horses into the backyard. Inside the house, they discuss their momentary living conditions and plans for the remainder of the night, with Royd throwing himself down onto the first seat he sees.

    ¡°A cozy place.¡± Kellar comments. ¡°How many beds are in here?¡±

    ¡°Two.¡± Veros answers. ¡°A single in one bedroom, and a wide one in the other.¡±

    Kellar rubs his chin. ¡°I''ll probably look for some cots in the surrounding homes and try to bring them in.¡±

    The veteran shrugs. ¡°If you want. But the single should probably go to Royd.¡± He approaches the bulky woodcutter, who is still clutching the back of his shoulder. ¡°Let''s take a look at your back, friend.¡±

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd gives an unenthused response and leans forward. Veros pulls the cloth off the wound, and a few drops of blood slide down the brawny warrior''s back.

    ¡°Still bleeding a bit. I guess you''ll need stitches, after all.¡± The team leader remarks with pity in his voice.

    ¡°Gods help me...¡± Royd utters with a sigh.

    ¡°I need to go out with Atticus and see if any undead pursued us, though. Think you can wait?¡±

    ¡°I can stitch him up.¡± Kellar suddenly volunteers. ¡°I''ve done it several times before.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Veros is surprised at the thought. ¡°Well, if you''re comfortable with it, go right ahead. Here.¡± He hands his teammate the sack of medical supplies. ¡°The suture kit, scissors, disinfectant, and adhesive are in there.¡±

    ¡°Got it.¡± The rogue nods affirmatively as he accepts the sack. ¡°It''ll be quick and clean.¡±

    ¡°Ugh.¡± Royd groans audibly with reluctance.

    ¡°Well, Atticus and I are leaving for a bit. Don''t forget to unsaddle your horses and bring all of your equipment in, okay?¡± Veros reminds everyone of their duties before exiting the house with the knight.

    ¡°Guess we should go do that now.¡± Zyra states aloud.

    ¡°Can you two unsaddle our horses for us?¡± Kellar asks the mage and archer. ¡°I''m gonna start sewin'' up this big lug.¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± The pyromancer answers with a nod, and she and Erik exit the house through the back door.

    ¡°Alright, big guy.¡± The rogue picks up a stool and places it behind Royd, seating himself to prepare for the suturing. ¡°Take off that shirt and we can get this out of the way.¡±

    ¡°Don''t get too excited about stabbing me over and over again, you hear?¡± The woodcutter gripes as he carefully removes his cotton shirt.

    Kellar prepares by readying the suture needle and silk stitching. He disinfects the needle and then the wound once more before finally starting. Royd, despite his size and usual disposition before the injury, doesn''t handle the procedure very well, wincing and groaning in pain at every instance of either the needle piercing his skin or the sensation of the silk thread being pulled behind it. After several complete stitches, Kellar cuts the thread and rubs the viscous, quick-drying adhesive over the wound to ensure it stays closed.

    ¡°Alright, it''s done.¡± The ex-mercenary announces. ¡°You can stop your cryin'' now and put your shirt back on, okay?¡±

    ¡°Gods, what an awful experience.¡± Royd replies with pain in his voice. ¡°If I ever receive another stitch while I still breathe air and my heart still beats, then it''ll be too sodding soon.¡±

 XIX. Heroism (Section 2)

    Meanwhile, Veros and Atticus have ridden back south by about two miles to see if any members of the undead horde continued to follow them. They gaze into the grey curtain, which is beginning to grow darker by the minute due to the disappearing sunlight. However, nothing emerges from it.

    ¡°Looks like we''ll be in the clear for the night.¡± Veros comments. ¡°They seem to have given up.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully.¡± Atticus responds, examining the roadside and treeline for movement. ¡°My head is still throbbing. I''m eager to eat and go to sleep.¡±

    ¡°I don''t blame you. That battle had my heart going a mile a minute.¡± The veteran lets out a sigh, still exhausted from the life-threatening encounter despite the fight lasting only a few minutes. ¡°Let''s not waste any time, then. We should go back before it becomes pitch black out here.¡±

    Satisfied with the lack of any noticeable undead presence, the two men turn and ride back to Kildare hurriedly in order to beat the setting sun.

    After night finally arrives and darkness engulfs the area, the six Mistwalkers have shed their heavy equipment and made themselves as comfortable as possible in the abandoned home they''ve decided to inhabit until morning. They surround the fire pit, where a healthy flame dances and illuminates the room. The front and back doors leading outside have been blocked with furniture for extra security, and everyone''s taking the opportunity to finally eat a small, rationed dinner.

    ¡°Royd.¡± Veros speaks up. ¡°How''s your back? Does it still hurt?¡±

    The bulky man shakes his head, looking significantly less pained now that his wound has been properly attended to. ¡°No, I''m fine. Moving my arm around is a bit of an irritance, but I don''t think it''ll make me any less useful.¡±

    ¡°You should''ve seen this big fella wince and moan while I was patchin'' him up.¡± Kellar teases his comrade yet again. ¡°He sounded like a giant child with a bad tummy ache.¡±

    ¡°Well, sorry for not being used to being shot at!¡± Royd responds with a scowl.

    ¡°This is the kind of thing you signed up for when you crossed the barrier.¡± The rogue lectures with a wag of his finger. ¡°Heroics have a price, you know. Trying to save the world may be admirable, but it''s fundamentally dumb. That''s why most people don''t try to do it.¡±

    ¡°I''m well aware.¡± The irate woodcutter bluntly responds as he bites into an apple he pulled from his sack of provisions. ¡°I prefer the term ''brave'' instead of ''dumb'', however.¡± He finishes his thought while chewing.

    ¡°It''s a bit of both, really.¡±

    ¡°What do you guys mean?¡± Zyra suddenly asks, puzzled at the nature of the conversation. ¡°Is heroism a bad thing?¡±

    ¡°Naw, that''s not what I''m gettin'' at.¡± The ex-mercenary corrects her. ¡°I mean being a hero is stupid on an essential level because it involves throwin'' yourself into danger. That''s the whole basis of it.¡±

    The mage tilts her head, still unsure of the philosophy behind Kellar''s statement.

    ¡°What he''s trying to say,¡± Atticus chimes him to articulate the idea better, ¡°is that the definition of heroism is more or less sacrificing your own well-being for the benefit of others, which is something most can''t do, not because they''re selfish, but because their self-preservation instincts win over their desire to help. Thus, if your desire to help wins, you fundamentally decide to throw yourself into danger for another person, which he feels is stupid on an existential level.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Zyra lifts her head, now understanding the statement.

    ¡°But someone needs to do it.¡± Royd interjects. ¡°If a heroic act didn''t have risks, then everyone would be willing to do it, which means it wouldn''t be an act of heroism at all because it would be expected of everyone.¡±

    She contemplates the thought. ¡°So a heroic act needs that sense of danger, and the hero needs to choose to throw themselves into that danger, with likely little personal reward, otherwise it''s not a heroic act. I guess that makes sense. Sitting around and waiting for someone else to save Yhordran would be easy to do.¡± The pyromancer sighs, realizing that while it''s a somewhat cynical way of viewing heroism, the specifics aren''t necessarily wrong. ¡°I guess we''re all pretty dumb for being here, then.¡± She says with a self-deprecating smirk.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    The brawny fellow laughs. ¡°Indeed we are, but we''re also here because our convictions matter more than our lives. Not everyone experiences a situation where they feel that way. Depending on how you look at it, they''re probably lucky that they don''t.¡±

    ¡°That''s true.¡± Zyra nods, agreeing with Royd''s sentiment. ¡°Throwing yourself into danger is a stupid thing to do in general, but you don''t really care or think that way if you feel so strongly of why you''re doing it.¡± She states, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she does want to save Yhordran and help her comrades. ¡°But maybe we''re not so dumb after all if we managed to make it so far without losing anyone.¡±

    ¡°Well, we could also just be exceedingly lucky. Things like that ambush earlier today ¨C and my injury ¨C they''re all just the price we have to pay for trying to do the right thing.¡±

    ¡°Why is it that you think we''ve made it so far? Has no one else tried to actually venture all the way to Armasstadt?¡±

    ¡°Lena mentioned that there''s usually weeks between Mistwalkers making it all the way to Terrance.¡± Veros interjects. ¡°Most Mistwalkers die on their first outing, either by incompetence, ill-preparation, being overly adventurous, or more. But then how many die on their second outing? Or third? Or perhaps never go back into the mist after their first? Most make it a point to never go past the Rosemont line to begin with. There could''ve been dozens of Mistwalkers capable of reaching Armasstadt and quelling the mist by now, but none of them chose to continue. But we''ll never know for sure.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Royd agrees. ¡°They knew the risk of continuing and chose to heed warnings. Doesn''t mean they''re bad people for not trying.¡±

    ¡°Speakin'' of risks,¡± Kellar chimes in, ¡°are we going to have a lookout for the night?¡±

    ¡°I don''t think that''ll be necessary.¡± Veros answers while standing and approaching a window next to the front door. He peers out into the village, and though the combination of darkness and mist makes visibility extremely difficult, he can see no sign of any undead presence ¨C no movement amid the abyss. ¡°If they were following us, they almost certainly would''ve reached us by now. Plus, I''m sure the horses would raise a racket if they tried to circle around the house.¡±

    ¡°I know I said this before, but I still can''t fuckin'' believe they managed to surprise us even though we expected an ambush of some sort.¡± The rogue, once again, complains of the enemy''s tenacity. ¡°These undead bastards really are somethin''.¡±

    ¡°I think we all expected them to just impede our path north judging from the footprints.¡± Veros responds while sitting back down. ¡°We didn''t expect them to go through the trouble of sneaking up on us so closely for so long. It''s good that Atticus had the sense to stop and turn around, or we really would''ve been in trouble. Everyone did a good job at holding their own when the fight started; it went as well as it possibly could have.¡±

    ¡°I have a question.¡± Zyra interjects. ¡°I hope this isn''t a dumb one, and I realize this is late, but I was wondering why we travel in the formation that we do? Why are Erik and I in the center of the group and still on horses while everyone else is on foot? I sort of just went along with it, but after the encounter we had earlier today, I was pondering the reasoning behind it?¡±

    Veros shakes his head. ¡°It''s not a dumb question.¡± The veteran leans forward, preparing for a long-winded explanation of the strategy behind their travel formation. ¡°First off, Atticus and I are on point because we have the most close-combat experience, so we should be the ones to take the brunt of an attack when we run into an enemy. Royd and Kellar are at the rear because they''re also experienced, but to a lesser extent. Or, at least Kellar is; Royd has the raw strength to make up for the lack of fighting expertise.¡±

    Zyra nods, studiously absorbing the new information. ¡°And why are you off your horses? I know we want to protect them because they''re are transportation and such, but isn''t that some sort of disadvantage?¡±

    ¡°Not necessarily. When you fight on a horse, the only real advantage you gain is mass and speed in one direction, and it''s at the sacrifice of maneuverability. If one person on foot and another on a horse ¨C both with equal skill and the same equipment ¨C were to fight, the person on foot would actually have the advantage because they can make smaller, precise body movements quicker and easier. All they have to do is wait for an opening because the person on the horse will have a harder time covering themselves.¡±

    ¡°So Erik and I are usually on horses in case we need to make distance quickly?¡± Zyra asks for further clarification, but is continuing to grasp the idea.

    Veros nods. ¡°Exactly. You and Erik are at your best when at range, so staying on your horses for when you need to create that distance is better for you than it is for us. It''s alright for you to sacrifice mobility for speed because unless we''re crammed inside a small building, you''ll only be using magic in the first place.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± The mage nods, now in full understanding of the necessity of their strategy. ¡°I never really thought about it like that. I''ve never seen a battle before, so I simply assumed it was always better to stay mounted.¡±

    ¡°In extremely small-scale battles like the ones we usually have out here, it''s better to fight on foot. If we had a large cavalry and the horses had armor for themselves, then we could just charge through everything, generally speaking.¡±

    ¡°That makes sense.¡± Zyra comments, seeming more enlightened on the topic of combat strategy.

 XIX. Heroism (Section 3)

    Atticus, still looking lethargic from the result of his over-exertion, stands up. ¡°I think I''ll call it for the night. Did anyone claim the wide bed in the bedroom on the left?¡± He asks, pointing down the hallway.

    ¡°I figured you and Zyra could share it.¡± Veros casually answers.

    ¡°Huh?¡± The mage straightens to attention, surprised at the idea. ¡°Why us?¡±

    ¡°Well, I figured if any two people would be comfortable with that, it would be you two.¡± The veteran explains with a shrug, considering the reasoning to be obvious. ¡°You two bathed together back at Rosemont, didn''t you?¡±

    The knight and pyromancer glance at each other for a brief moment, showing expressions of slight apprehension, but neither raise their voice to disagree.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Atticus responds with a small nod. ¡°I''m fine with it.¡±

    ¡°Alright then.¡± Veros nods back, a half-smile slowly crossing his face. ¡°Rest well. You don''t want your headache to still bother you when we continue our journey tomorrow.¡±

    The knight walks into the hall and turns into the bedroom, closing the door behind him to block out any distracting sounds of conversation from his comrades. He approaches the bed, and brushes the palm of his hand over the surface of it. A thin layer of dust had collected on top of the long unstirred blankets, which had been unused and uncleaned in months. To avoid any further irritation while he sleeps, he begins to pick up and lightly beat them with his open hand to clear the dust. Afterward, he repeats the process with the feather-filled pillows, making sure to dust off both of them for when Zyra comes in.

    Once satisfied with his humble attempt to make the bed more suitable for sleeping in again, he''s finally able to lie down and rest his weary head, which is still plagued by a throbbing sensation, though duller than it was earlier in the day. His heavy eyelids shut, and he begins to drift in and out of consciousness for short bursts, fighting the hazy pain in his skull in order to stay asleep and resisting the urge to toss and turn in desperation for a comfortable position.

    After about an extra hour or so of shallow rest, the bedroom door slowly creaks open, causing Atticus to lazily lift his head in time to see Zyra try and a timidly approach the bed.

    ¡°Did I wake you?¡± She asks softly, closing the door behind her. ¡°I''m sorry.¡± The mage bashfully apologizes.

    ¡°No, you didn''t.¡± The knight responds somewhat groggily. ¡°Falling asleep is a bit difficult for me right now.¡±

    Zyra walks around to the other side of the bed and meekly lets herself under the covers, as if trying not to bother her companion with her very existence. He takes notice.

    ¡°If you''re uncomfortable with this, I can grab my bedroll and sleep on the floor.¡± Atticus comments, wondering if this arrangement is a good idea.

    ¡°No, no!¡± The pyromancer waves her hands to diffuse the awkward situation. ¡°It''s fine. I wouldn''t want to trouble you to get up despite your headache. It''s fine. I''m more than willing to sleep with you.¡±

    Atticus furrows his brow and stares at her in confusion, curious of whether she realizes what she said, but she doesn''t seem to. She proceeds to shuffle herself underneath the cover of the blankets until she finally finds a comfortable position on the bed. The two lie next to each other in silence, though neither of them are necessarily ready or able to fall asleep just yet. They simply stare at the ceiling, partially expecting the other to start talking.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°Atticus?¡± Zyra speaks up first in a softened voice. ¡°Do you mind if I talk to you about something?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡± He responds, also in a near-whisper.

    ¡°I''ve been thinking about the conversation we all had about heroism earlier, about how people throw themselves into danger because their conviction for something matters more than their life.¡± She turns her head to look at Atticus''s face. ¡°The Mistwalkers who have made as far as we have ¨C or close to it ¨C they probably wanted to save Yhordran too. But they obviously failed. Would it have been better for them to not try at all?¡±

    ¡°It''s easy to look on at the failures of others and think that they were better off not trying.¡± The knight responds soberly. ¡°But the point is that it didn''t feel useless to them when they did it. That''s why they''re still heroes in their own right, even if they didn''t succeed. They still chose the lives of others ahead of their own. That kind of selfless decision isn''t an easy one to make. How were they supposed to know that they would fail when they took that first step? That''s the risk we all take when we try to save people.¡± He becomes dejected as he finishes his response, realizing he''s speaking from experience.

    ¡°We never know the outcomes of our efforts until we make those efforts, I guess.¡± Zyra summarizes the short exchange concisely. ¡°Otherwise, the only people who would be out here are the ones who know they''d succeed, which would likely be no one. Not even us.¡±

    Atticus nods. ¡°Yeah. Most heroes you hear about aren''t really chosen ones, but just people who were at the right place at the right time. In fact, some of the greatest heroes probably aren''t even known because the world kept spinning normally due of their heroism, and we never noticed their act.¡±

    ¡°That''s a somewhat comforting thought, I think.¡± She comments with a small smile. ¡°The idea that there are more heroes in history than we realize. Sometimes it feels like there are too few.¡± The mage turns her head again to look him in the face once more. ¡°If we succeed, do you think you''d consider yourself a hero?¡±

    The knight turns his head as well to meet her gaze. ¡°Quietly, sure. After all, we saved Yhordran. But hero or not, no one likes a person who boasts all the time.¡±

    ¡°It''d be hard for me to not brag, I''ll admit. What about if we fail? Not if we die, but if we had to turn around for some reason and not come back?¡±

    ¡°Well, it''s hard to feel like a hero when you fail in the attempt. But I''d still feel content with the effort. I made it pretty far, and I met some interesting people on the way.¡±

    ¡°So, you''re glad you met us?¡± She asks with a flattered smile.

    ¡°I''d say so.¡± He answers with a nod. ¡°You''ve all been really dependable.¡±

    ¡°And you''re glad you met me?¡± Zyra asks, her voice turning more inquisitive, but also a tinge more serious, and her eyes grow more intense.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Atticus nods, his voice becoming a bit more serious, as well. ¡°I am.¡±

    Though somewhat difficult in the veiled moonlight coming in from the window, the two gaze at each other for a moment. Zyra''s striking blue eyes are only subtly noticeable, but alluring all the same. However, his admiration is cut short as he is struck with a pang of guilt that forces him to slowly turn away.

    ¡°W-what''s wrong?¡± Zyra asks, somewhat hurt at the gesture. After the question leaves her mouth, she realizes what she''s asking and what the answer might be, causing her to feel a stab of guilt, herself.

    ¡°I...¡± He begins to speak, but pauses for a brief moment, trying to find the right words to say. ¡°I''ve spent a long time mourning someone, so part of me feels like it would be wrong to move on now.¡± Hearing this, Zyra furrows her brow slightly, thinking this is leading into some sort of rejection. He turns his head to look her in the eyes again. ¡°But you do captivate me, Zyra. Truly.¡±

    Zyra lets out a long exhale that she had clearly been holding in. ¡°And you captivate me too, Atticus.¡± She punctuates her mutual feelings by curling her lips up into a small smile.

    Underneath the blanket they''re sharing, she seeks out and grasps Atticus''s hand and turns her body to press herself against him, tucking her chin in and resting her forehead against his shoulder. Soon after, they both drift to sleep.

 XX. Remnant of the Clergy (Section 1)

    Morning comes, and dulled sunlight pours into the bedroom where Atticus and Zyra are beginning to stir awake in the same positions they fell asleep in. The knight is the first open his eyes and slowly recollect his memories of the previous night. He turns his head to notice the young pyromancer still pressed up against him, and also feels the tight grip on his forearm. Without sitting up, he tries to wake her.

    ¡°Zyra.¡± He softly calls to her, gently shaking her shoulder. ¡°Wake up. It''s morning.¡±

    The mage''s eye flutter open as she regains consciousness. Still dazed, she rubs her eyes and checks her surroundings, looking around the room and eventually up at Atticus''s face.

    ¡°It''s morning already?¡± She asks sleepily. ¡°I feel like I blinked and now it''s daylight.¡±

    ¡°Same here.¡± The knight''s lips curve into a small smile as he nods in agreement. ¡°We should get up, it''s quite bright out. We might be the last ones awake.¡±

    ¡°Alright.¡± Zyra sighs and extends her arms and legs to stretch and loosen up her body for the journey ahead.

    After the two have woken up enough to be alert, they exit the room to see their comrades, who are already in the midst of eating their small breakfasts.

    ¡°Good morning, you two.¡± Veros greets them. ¡°Don''t waste too much time getting ready, the sun''s already past the point at which we usually depart.¡±

    ¡°Where are we headed today?¡± Royd asks before taking a large bite out of a raw potato.

    ¡°I rechecked the map right after I woke up.¡± The veteran answers. ¡°There''s another two villages on our route for the day: Adderland, which is about thirteen miles north, and then Surling, about twenty-four miles after that. If my math is correct, once we reach Surling, we''ll be only about fifty miles from Armasstadt.¡±

    ¡°I take it we won''t try to reach it tomorrow?¡± Kellar asks while plucking a grape from a cluster of about a hundred or so and placing it in his mouth.

    Veros shakes his head. ¡°There''s no way we''ll be in Armasstadt by tomorrow night. If we try that, it''ll be dark when we do, and Gods know what sort of dangers lurk there. It certainly wouldn''t be the best conditions. We''re better off getting as close as we can the night before, and then reaching it in the morning. At the very least, we''d have daylight on our side then.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡± The rogue responds, listlessly plucking another grape and eating it.

    ¡°How are the horses this morning?¡± Atticus asks no one in particular.

    ¡°They''re fine.¡± Veros answers. ¡°I checked on them a few minutes ago. They had some hay lying around for them to eat, but I imagine they''re thirsty.¡±

    ¡°They''re not the only ones.¡± Royd comments before fitting the last bit of potato into his cheeks, but also can''t help but lick his dry, slightly cracked lips.

    ¡°There''s actually a stream after Adderland.¡± The leader responds, alleviating any worries pertaining to the group''s water supply. ¡°I''ve heard the mist doesn''t affect water, so we can collect some there and boil it clean when we stop at Surling, as a precaution.¡± He stands up and walks over to Royd. ¡°Here, lean forward. I should check up on your wound.¡±

    The woodcutter complies. ¡°It still feels quite tender, particularly when I bring my shoulder forward.¡± He comments as Veros pulls the head hole of Royd''s shirt down enough to catch a glimpse of the stitched injury.

    ¡°It still looks a bit red, but I don''t see any sign of infection.¡± The veteran remarks, satisfied at the treatment of the wound. ¡°You''ll be alright soon enough. Think you can still hold your shield up?¡±

    The brawny warrior nods with confidence. ¡°I believe I can. It might be a tad troublesome in some cases, but for the most part I think it''ll be alright.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now, let''s all hurry and get ready to leave. We still have to saddle the horses before we go.¡± Veros dutifully reminds his allies and encourages a hasty morning procedure.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Later, once the six Mistwalkers have eaten their fill, donned their armor and weapons, and saddled their horses yet again, they continue their journey by riding back to the main road cutting through Kildare, carefully examining the foggy boundary around them for hostiles.

    ¡°I don''t see any undead.¡± Royd comments. ¡°I guess they really did give up on following us. I suppose it''s safe to stop worrying about enemies that might be behind us and go back to worrying about ones that might be ahead.¡±

    ¡°This far north, we might still need to do both.¡± Veros responds, still remembering the fact that the horde successfully snuck up on them yesterday. He isn''t looking forward to the group accidentally placing themselves in the same compromising position. They almost certainly would''ve met their end if Atticus hadn''t caught on to their plan before they initiated the ambush.

    ¡°How''s your head feeling?¡± Veros asks Atticus as they exit Kildare.

    ¡°It''s better.¡± The knight answers firmly. ¡°I had a good night''s sleep, so the throbbing pain is gone. Though it might show up once more if I have to use fire breath again so soon.¡± He explains, hesitant of casting more high-level magic for an extended period of time, but ultimately, he''d still do it when it''s necessary.

    Kellar and Royd are riding at the rear of the group like usual, but the musclebound woodcutter keeps his left arm tucked against his stomach and on his lap to help minimize any sort of force on his shoulder.

    ¡°So, Kellar,¡± Royd begins speaking, ¡°you said yesterday that you''ve stitched up wounds several times before. Were they your own?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± The ex-mercenary answers plainly. ¡°I stitched my own scrapes up a few times. It took a few attempts before I could do it cleanly, though.¡±

    ¡°So you have scars to show for your time as a mercenary, eh?¡± The bulky man inquires, as his comrade''s clothes and armor don''t allow any room to show even the slightest bit of skin aside from his hands, head, and neck.

    Kellar nods. ¡°Yup. The biggest one is along the side of my thigh. Needed over thirty stitches for that one.¡±

    ¡°How in the world did you get that?¡±

    ¡°Not in a fight, if that''s what you''re wonderin''.¡± The rogue reluctantly admits before pushing out a sigh.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Royd pushes for details.

    Kellar twists his face into a mild scowl before he concedes and tells the tale. ¡°We were tryin'' to climb over the iron fence of some noble''s estate to grab his son, who was avoidin'' a trial. It was more of a bounty hunt job than a normal mercenary gig. So, while trying to make my way over the fence, I lost balance and fell over. The skin of my thigh caught a sharp edge on the fence and tore it open. I had to climb back over and get fixed.¡±

    ¡°Ha ha! Are you serious?¡± Royd lets out a belly laugh in amusement at his companion''s humiliating retelling of his injury. ¡°You got your biggest scar because you couldn''t climb over a fence properly? Ha ha ha!¡± He slaps his thigh in delight.

    ¡°Hey, shut your fuckin'' yap, will you?¡± Kellar snaps at him. ¡°It''s embarrassin'', you big goon. The only other people who know of that are my wife and the people who were on my team at the time. I got enough shit from them about it to last a damned lifetime.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright.¡± The woodcutter concedes while wiping away his tears of laughter between muffled giggles. ¡°I expected someone who looked as roguish as you to have a reputation of having more... finesse.¡±

    ¡°It was just one accident.¡± Kellar retorts in an irate tone. ¡°It wasn''t something that happened all the damn time.¡±

    ¡°Tell me, friend.¡± Royd finally straightens his face to segue into a different topic. ¡°Were your days in your mercenary band the days when you decided heroism is dumb?¡± He asks, calling back to the conversation they had last night. ¡°Or was that a viewpoint you''ve always had?¡±

    Kellar lifts an eyebrow, unsure of why his teammate was asking such a question, but humors him anyway. ¡°Well, when I joined, it was just beaten into my head that the life of the individual isn''t as important as the life of the group. We were told over and over again to never play hero if we found ourself in a dangerous situation.¡±

    ¡°Meaning what, exactly? Never running into danger to save a teammate?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much.¡± The ex-mercenary answers candidly with a nod. ¡°Those are the breaks in the sword-for-hire world. Every time someone in the team runs into a life-threatenin'' situation to save someone else, they''re now riskin'' two people instead of one. The group I was with can''t survive on sentiment like that. You always cut your losses so long as doing so doesn''t directly stop the mission''s success. Some of the best groups need to keep their numbers high to ensure regular employment.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± A sullen expression washes over Royd''s face. ¡°I can see why such rules would enforce a more... self-reliant attitude.¡±

    ¡°It was fuckin'' miserable.¡± Kellar immediately remarks. ¡°It was supposed to make sure we don''t take unnecessary risks, but it just gave everyone an excuse to be shitheads to each other. There was no use in playin'' nice outside of the mission, because anyone could be left to die at any day. It turned everyone selfish ¨C made us all look out for ourselves.¡±

    ¡°I can understand why you would be so eager to leave such a lifestyle behind.¡±

    ¡°I sure as hell don''t miss it.¡± Kellar continues his griping with clear disgust in his voice. ¡°It''s why I''m desperate to find something valuable here to loot and sell. I really don''t want to back to that sort of work, but I might need to if I leave here empty-handed.¡±

    Royd silently sympathizes, realizing that Kellar''s constant apprehensiveness of fighting or taking risks during the journey must have been born from the habits he had developed during his mercenary days that made self-preservation paramount.

 XX. Remnant of the Clergy (Section 2)

    The team continues to press forward towards Adderland, the first village they''ll be passing through on the day''s ride. On the way there, they still encounter the occasional lone, wandering undead, but Atticus and Veros manage to quickly and efficiently eliminate each with ease, having already grown very accustomed to the overly aggressive fighting style of their reanimated enemies. The hostile corpses have been a varied mix of normal inhabitants of the northern Yhordran countryside, Legion soldiers who met an untimely death, and armed Mistwalkers who strayed too far north for their own good. The group soon reaches the southern entrance of their first destination, and as per their normal procedure, they cut through slowly and steadily with Veros and Atticus at the front, and Kellar and Erik at the rear.

    The two men on point split up to enter the first set of houses they approach. Atticus passes through the open door of the first home in his path, coming across the extremely familiar sight of household furniture turned over and everyday items messily scattered around in obvious attempts to flee. He turns his attention to the entrance of a bedroom, concealed by curtains. He pushes the dusty cloth aside and is caught off guard by the sudden sight of an unmoving corpse spread across the floor. It seems to be a female villager, simply judging by the pale dress it''s wearing, but its flesh is so decomposed, it''s hard to make out any further detail. Cautiously, he approaches it, tapping his feet against the wooden floor to try and bait out some sort of reaction from it, assuming it''s still capable of movement. When it doesn''t react, he lightly kicks its arm, which limply slides away from the force. Upon a closer examination, he notices a gaping stab wound at the base of its neck, leading to its spine.

    After confirming that the body is indeed truly dead, he steps over it to inspect the rest of the room, particularly a tall set of five drawers near the bed. Compelled by the desire to find valuables to further assist his teammate, Kellar, in his goal, he pulls them out one by one to check their contents. It''s mostly just various clothing and quilts, until he pushes aside a stack of cotton shirts in the bottom drawer to reveal a sheathed dagger that bears incredibly detailed engravings on the heavily polished wooden hilt. He pulls the weapon out of its leather scabbard to reveal further engravings along the flat side of the blade. Satisfied with this finding, Atticus finally leaves the house.

    Meanwhile, Veros is also greeted by the sight of an unmoving corpse immediately upon entering the house he chose to inspect ¨C a male that lies near the fire pit in the living room, a small bearded axe rests inches away from his right hand, seemingly dropped after whatever struggle he had lost. To ensure it''s truly dead, the veteran kicks its foot and waits a moment for it to stir, but it doesn''t. He walks around the body to investigate it further, and its simple clothing and lack of armor suggest, along with its resting place, that it''s a normal villager instead of a Mistwalker. He notices the wound that likely finished it off for good: a stab in its neck that''s angled toward its brain stem.

    The veteran walks down a short hallway leading to two bedrooms and a back door leading outside. He turns to the west bedroom, and sees nothing of note ¨C just more dusty furniture. He backs out and peers into the east bedroom, and is startled by the presence of another still corpse lying on the dry floor, but this one is unlike the first he found. This one was a child, probably about ten to twelve years of age, and equally as rotted as the adult in the living room. Veros''s initial reaction is of equal revulsion and sadness, his eyebrows furrowed upward and mouth slightly curved down in a frowning scowl. Though reluctant, he walks up to the small corpse to ensure it''s also truly dead. Again, he finds another obvious stab wound in the base of the neck. Noticing it, he becomes curious. However, with nothing else of note in the home, he exits.

    Outside, Atticus approaches Kellar with the ornate dagger in hand. ¡°Kellar,¡± he calls out. ¡°Here, another finding that you could sell.¡± The knight holds out the sheathed weapon.

    ¡°A dagger?¡± Kellar asks while reaching out and accepting it. He slides it out of its scabbard to inspect the craftsmanship. ¡°It''s very fancy, definitely made by a skilled engraver.¡± He turns the dagger to inspect the blade. ¡°Not very sharp, though. Probably made more for decorative purposes than to be used as a real weapon. Still, it''s quite nice.¡± He looks up at Atticus. ¡°You''re sure you don''t want to keep this?¡± The rogue asks the same question he did when he received the ring from the other day.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The knight nods, firmly reiterating his feelings on the subject of giving his findings away. ¡°I''m sure. I have no use for a decorative dagger.¡±

    ¡°Well, alright.¡± Kellar places the sheathed weapon in the waist of the trousers. ¡°Thanks again, friend. I really do appreciate you helping me out.¡±

    ¡°No problem.¡± Atticus casually responds.

    ¡°Have you found anything?¡± Veros asks, approaching the knight. ¡°Any undead?¡±

    ¡°Just one corpse that was already taken care of.¡±

    ¡°Did it have a stab wound in its neck?¡±

    ¡°It did.¡± The knight answers, curious as to how Veros was able to guess. ¡°How''d you know? Were there bodies in there with the same injury?¡± He asks, pointing to the house his comrade just came from.

    Veros nods. ¡°There were. Two of them. I was wondering if they were done by the same person.¡± He turns back to the house and rubs his chin in contemplation. ¡°I know that a lone Mistwalker making it out here is unlikely, but something strikes me as a bit odd about it.¡±

    ¡°The wound didn''t look particularly fresh.¡± Atticus adds. ¡°It seemed like the body was there for a very long time. Whoever did it, they''re probably long gone, anyway.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± The veteran concedes. ¡°I guess there''s no point in being bothered by it. Let''s continue making our way through the village.¡±

    Ultimately deciding against wasting any precious time, the two point men proceed with their usual village-clearing procedure.

    In the next home he enters, Atticus discovers a male corpse sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the front door, with a sword resting in its limp hand. Yet again, a stab wound in the neck is seen. Across the road, Veros doesn''t see a body in the interior of the house, but he notices various signs of a struggle, such as broken furniture and traces of blood leading out of a back door. He follows it, and it does eventually lead him to another body ¨C a woman with a shield and axe. Once more, a stab wound is seen at the base of the neck.

    The two men grow more and more curious, but stay quiet as they continue towards the center of the village. As they do so, the mist clears the way to the sight of additional bodies scattered around the round, some in front of homes and a few in the middle of the road. They approach the unmoving corpses, and as they''ve begun to expect, they all have clear stab wounds in the neck, angled towards the brain stem.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Veros speaks up. ¡°This is strange. It''s definitely starting to look as though this was all done by one person, or at least by a group who was very coordinated.¡±

    ¡°If it means there''s no more undead for us to deal with, then I don''t mind.¡± Kellar remarks. ¡°We might as well just cut through without bothering with anymore houses.¡±

    The veteran heaves a short sigh. ¡°I suppose. But still, stay on your toes.¡±

    The Mistwalkers continue northward through the village, still dismounted just in case they encounter undead that haven''t been eliminated. Soon, the road leads to an open lot that widens into large village square, but before they reach the center of it, they''re stopped by the sudden appearance of an odd shape thinly covered by the grey fog.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Veros asks aloud, pointing at the vague silhouette. It''s some sort of black mass resting horizontally across the ground. ¡°There seems to be more behind it.¡± He squints his eyes, and other strange black masses are barely visible beyond the first one. Suspicious of the mysterious shape, Veros draws his sword and slowly approaches, the others following him.

    The mist gradually clears and the finer details of the black silhouettes begin to show. The odd masses are scorched bodies, with the ground surrounding them covered in traces of ash. There''s thirteen in total scattered around the empty square.

    ¡°Oh, no...¡± Veros utters. ¡°Everyone, stand back! These might be dangerous!¡± He suddenly commands, immediately remembering their last encounter with charred undead back at Legarthat. He and Atticus raise their shields defensively, expecting the burned remains to stand and attack. They pause, frozen where they stand, trying to decide how they can approach.

    ¡°I don''t think we have much of a choice here.¡± The knights says without peeling his eyes away from the bodies. ¡°Let''s go up to them. Carefully.¡±

    ¡°Erik, Zyra.¡± The veteran calls out to his teammates. ¡°If you see any movement, attack. Okay?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The young mage responds immediately. Erik nocks an arrow into his bowstring preemptively, prepared to react to any threat.

 XX. Remnant of the Clergy (Section 3)

    Veros and Atticus begin to inch their way closer to the presumed ritual victims, gradually stepping forward at a measured pace in their extremely cautious approach. Despite closing the distance with each second, no semblance of movement is observed from the blackened corpses. Soon, Atticus finds himself right next to the first of many. He looks down at the awkwardly positioned body, its limbs twisted in ways that suggest this person died in unwilling agony, likely thrashing and flailing in desperate attempts to quell the flames that engulfed them.

    With no sign of activity coming from the remains, the knight decides to make the first move. In one motion, he lifts one of his feet, places it over the corpse''s head, and stomps it down with great force. The brittle, ashen skull is immediately pulverized under the pressure with little resistance. The two fighters look at each other, curious if they should take it as a sign of safety from potential danger. Ultimately, they decide against becoming complacent too soon, and approach the next body with maintained attentiveness.

    Like as before, the second cadaver is far too charred to make out any real detail other than size, and it rests in the same haphazard, twisted way, encircled by scorched dirt and ashes that had simply chipped off. Atticus, with his shield still in front of his chest, lifts his foot and stomps on the body''s head, and it''s crushed with ease in a loud crunch. The men become visibly perplexed, and finally ¨C slightly ¨C let their guard down, considering that all of the burned corpses might be harmless after all.

    Veros, still not yet totally convinced, walks up to a third body, and instead of stomping on its head, he takes his sword and stabs it directly into its chest, which wouldn''t finish it off if it were indeed reanimated. However, there''s still no response. The remains still don''t move from its prone position and agonized pose.

    ¡°I think these bodies are actually dead this time.¡± The veteran finally breaks the silence to voice his thoughts. ¡°Perhaps this is a different type of ritual? Erik? Do you have any idea?¡± Veros turns to the noble.

    ¡°I haven''t read about other types of sacrificial rituals.¡± Erik responds, easing his posture now that the corpses have been confirmed to be non-hostile. ¡°I can''t imagine the mist would discriminate against how a person died, but maybe I''m wrong. There''s a lot we still don''t know.¡±

    ¡°True enough.¡± Veros nods. ¡°I guess we can pass through without worrying about them.¡± He looks around at the remaining corpses scattered around the square, all of which still totally frozen in their blackened, ashy forms. He turns to rejoin the others, but Zyra''s panicked voice is suddenly heard.

    ¡°Ahead!¡± She yells, pointing northward down the road.

    Veros and Atticus turn and immediately take a defensive stance. A dark silhouette shrouded by the mist is seen in the distance, appoaching at a deliberate pace. As it advances and the mist clears away, it become obvious that the unknown being is wielding no weapons, as both hands are empty and at its sides. It draws closer, and the finer details of its clothing begin to appear ¨C ornate blue robes. The attire instantly strikes the attention of the group.

    ¡°Another monk?¡± Veros asks aloud to no one in particular.

    ¡°Seems to be.¡± Atticus responds. Neither of them take their eyes off the approaching foe.

    The supposed monk stops in its tracks as abruptly as it showed up. It stands neutrally near at the northern side of the square, showing no intent of attacking. It''s pale, slightly-rotted face maintains a blank, stoic expression. No one among the Mistwalkers makes the first move, opting instead to wait and see how the monk responds to their presence. The silent standoff draws out for several moments before some of them begin to get anxious.

    ¡°What the fuck do we do?¡± Kellar asks. ¡°Why aren''t we attacking him? He''s clearly undead.¡±

    ¡°He doesn''t seem hostile.¡± Veros responds while still looking at the unknown monk. ¡°We''ve yet to see any sort of docile behavior from any undead before.¡±

    The undead monk ever-so-slightly furrows its brow, as if reacting to what the Mistwalkers are saying. It seems puzzled at their very existence. Finally, after another long moment of more silence, it speaks.

    ¡°You... are real?¡± The decayed man speaks clearly, loud enough for the group to hear.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Veros reacts with understandable shock, as do the others.

    ¡°He can fuckin'' talk?¡± Kellar asks, his mouth slightly agape.

    Silence covers the team once again as they pause to think of how to respond. Veros decides to take initiative.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°Who are you?¡± He asks with an authoritative tone.

    ¡°My name... is Lias Normand.¡± The monk responds with a timid, bewildered demeanor. ¡°I am a monk of the Monastery of Idrid... in Evatica.¡± His odd, strained form of speech makes it seem like he almost gasps for breath after every few words.

    ¡°Good Gods, he''s still fully aware.¡± Veros continues to express his disbelief.

    ¡°How''s that possible?¡± Royd inquires. ¡°Look at him. He''s clearly undead.¡± He points out the monk''s partially decomposed, necrotic face and tiny patches of hair that had yet to fall out of his scalp.

    The veteran shakes his head. ¡°I have no idea.¡± Many questions begin to swirl inside his head; he''s unable to clasp onto one long enough to put it to words. ¡°What the hell do we say?¡± Veros wonders aloud.

    ¡°How long have you been here?¡± Atticus takes over, opting to slowly gain crucial information.

    ¡°Since the beginning...¡± Lias answers. ¡°When the mist swept the land... I was already here, in Adderland.¡±

    ¡°He''s been here since before the mist?¡± Kellar repeats. ¡°Shit, man, he''s been here for months, then.¡±

    ¡°He might know more about the other monks we''ve seen.¡± Erik chimes in. ¡°He might finally give us some answers about them and the sacrificial rituals being conducted.¡±

    Veros considers the idea heavily. He can''t lie to himself by saying he hasn''t been curious about those things since discovering the two wandering undead monks some days ago. It''s been prodding him from the back of his mind ever since. He''d be betraying himself if he refused an opportunity to find an explanation.

    ¡°Fine.¡± The veteran concedes. ¡°Let''s try and talk to him.¡±

    ¡°Can we trust him?¡± Kellar interjects, as wary as ever. ¡°He might have a weapon on him. If he''s been here since the start, then he might''ve been the one to kill all these villagers.¡±

    ¡°That could be true, but this could be the only chance anyone has to find out what the hell''s been going on.¡± Veros presses for a dialogue.

    Kellar shakes his head, willing to play along, but still apprehensive. ¡°Alright.¡± He replies with a shrug.

    Veros turns his attention back to the monk. ¡°Are you armed?¡± He asks.

    ¡°I''m not.¡± Lias answers. ¡°I''ve given up on fighting.¡±

    ¡°So if we approach you, you won''t attack?¡±

    ¡°I will not.¡±

    Veros releases a small sigh, still slightly unsure of how seriously to take the undead man. At the end of day, however, he has no choice but to approach and talk if we wants the answers he seeks. He lowers his shield and sword, but doesn''t slide it back into its scabbard. He looks to Atticus, who seems equally uncertain, but has clear determination in his eyes to go along with whatever the team''s leader wishes to do. Thus, they approach.

    The team advances closer the monk. His yellowish eyes hold mystery and a strange sense of hollowness that''s hard to put into words, but also no ill intent or aggression. However, something interesting becomes apparent when they''re close: a long slit along his neck, presumably the injury that ''killed'' him.

    ¡°You''ve really been here for months?¡± Veros asks again, for clarification''s sake. ¡°Since before the mist showed up?¡±

    ¡°Yes, when everyone here... was still alive.¡± Lias answers, a subtle wheeze separating every few words.

    ¡°Has anyone been here recently?¡±

    ¡°No. I haven''t seen another person in many weeks... At least no one... who still had their wits about them.¡±

    ¡°And you never bothered to venture south? To seek out others?¡±

    ¡°How could I... when I look like this?¡± The monk gestures to his own, decayed face. ¡°Any sensible person would likely... just kill me before I could explain anything.¡±

    Veros looks around to the bodies decorating the roads of Adderland. ¡°So, is all of this your doing?¡±

    Lias turns his head to sullenly look at the bodies, as well. After a pensive moment, he nods. ¡°Yes. All of this... was me.¡±

    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Kellar exclaims. ¡°You single-handedly took out every person in this village? Seriously? When?¡±

    ¡°It was early on... when the mist first arrived.¡± Lias''s face changes, showing the first hint of emotion since appearing before the group. His lips curve into a slight frown, and a pained expression overtakes him. ¡°They... were still human then.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Veros asks, not so much confused as he is beginning to turn angry at the implication of the monk''s words. ¡°Are you saying to killed all of these people before they had even turned? It wasn''t the mist that killed them?¡±

    Refusing to look at Veros''s face, the undead monk nods timidly. ¡°Yes...¡± He utters.

    Another pause of disbelief washes over the group. Even more so than a moment ago, they question the sincerity of Lias''s words. Veros, however, grows furious at the confession, true or not. He suddenly seizes the monk by his robes, clenching the cloth in his large, rough hands, and pushes him back.

    ¡°What are you talking about, monk?!¡± The veteran screams, overpowering Lias and shoving him with ease, as if he were made of cotton. He soon pins the decayed man against the wall of a nearby house.

    ¡°Veros, hold on!¡± Atticus yells, following his livid companion and grabbing him by the shoulder. ¡°We''ll interrogate him further, but we should do so calmly.¡±

    ¡°Please...¡± Lias begins to plea, stricken with fear of the ex-soldier''s wrath. ¡°I have no intention of running or fighting... I want to talk... I want to confess...¡±

    Veros, still annoyed, ultimately concedes and lets the monk go. ¡°I want answers, holy man. All of them.¡± He brings his hand to Lias''s face, and points at him in a very threatening manner. ¡°Every answer you can possibly give about why you''re here, why you killed people, your connection to other undead monks we''ve seen, and your connection to the appearance of this mist ¨C if any. Understand?¡±

    Lias meekly nods. ¡°Yes... I understand.¡± He turns and starts to walk down the road. ¡°Follow me.¡±

    ¡°To where?¡± The veteran asks, still highly suspicious of the decomposing clergyman.

    ¡°To my home... for the past six months.¡± He bluntly answers and continues walking. With no real other option, the Mistwalkers follow him.

 XXI. Judgement (Section 1)

    Lias leads the Mistwalkers to the northern section of Adderland, to a specific home along the main road with boarded up windows. Lias pushes the door open with a loud creak and beckons the others to walk in; they leave their horses behind and do so.

    Once inside, they notice that the interior side of front door is decorated with several padlocks hastily attached to it for extra security from other undead who haven''t maintained any sapience. The inside of the home is lit by multiple small candles scattered around on whatever will hold them ¨C some in proper candle holders, some in metal cups, a few wider ones sitting in bowls. Every piece of furniture is coated in a thick layer of dust except for a cot in the corner of the room, which is disheveled from recent use. Even plates for meals look untouched. On a stool near the cot rests a quill, bottle of ink, and many sheets of paper covered in hasty scribbles. At the feet of it rests even more stacks of used paper featuring whatever tales, knowledge, or confessions the monk had written on them.

    ¡°You''ve been holed up in here this whole time?¡± Kellar asks.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Lias answers plainly.

    ¡°What about food?¡±

    The monk shakes his head. ¡°I don''t eat anymore. Not since I became... this.¡± He looks at his dry, necrotic hand with lament. ¡°Please... sit wherever.¡± He welcomes them properly as he walks to his cot to sit.

    ¡°We can stand just fine.¡± Veros dismisses the invitation. ¡°Now, let''s start talking about why you and your monk friends are here, shall we?¡±

    ¡°I''ll answer whatever I know about...¡± The decaying clergyman responds.

    ¡°First thing''s first: why are you all here?¡± The veteran cuts to the chase. ¡°Why are there undead monks walking around here, in the north? In the mist?¡±

    ¡°About a year ago,¡± Lias begins to recall the events leading up the mist''s appearance, ¡°the monastery in Evatica... received a letter from the church in Armasstadt. They claimed to have discovered... a possible method to communicate with the Gods.¡±

    ¡°What on earth?¡± Veros utters, taken aback by the claim. ¡°What did they mean by that?¡±

    ¡°We weren''t sure, but it gained the attention of... Grand Monk Selick at Evatica. So he decided to visit... without telling Pontiff Reticus.¡±

    The Pontiff Reticus he speaks of is the man who is the current leader of the Idrid clergy, and currently resides at the monastery in Evatica in the fifteenth year of his papacy. He''s proved to be a particularly popular holy man for being outgoing, merciful, and providing a unique perspective on the Gods and their teachings and scriptures.

    ¡°Why did Selick keep quiet about such a thing?¡± Veros continues his questions. ¡°Shouldn''t such a claim be brought to the attention of the Pontiff, of all people?¡±

    Lias slowly shakes his head. ¡°Grand Monk Selick did not get along with the Pontiff... He didn''t agree with Reticus''s approach to spreading the word of Idrid... Said he was being too broad with the scriptures and their meaning. Selick... is a zealous man who still believes... in the Gods of old.¡±

    ¡°So,¡± Veros tries to piece together the next step, ¡°he decided to use the news of this method to communicate with the Gods to... overthrow Reticus or something?¡±

    ¡°Yes...¡± The monk nods. ¡°He figured that if he could communicate with the Gods... he could prove that Reticus''s teachings... go against their intended word. So he departed for Armasstadt... by himself. Several weeks later, he returned to Evatica... a far more excited, ambitious man. I don''t know what he saw there... but it had him convinced, and he''s usually quite skeptical... when it comes to seemingly unbelievable claims relating to the pantheon.¡±

    ¡°He didn''t give any details whatsoever about this way of communicating with the Gods?¡±

    ¡°Not at that time. He only said... that Armasstadtian miners uncovered a holy relic, buried in the mountain... resting against the city.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°A holy relic buried in Mount Armas?¡± Veros repeats to himself. ¡°I''ve never heard of any such rumor.¡±

    ¡°It didn''t take very long for Selick to convince other monks at the monastery to join him. Even if we didn''t know what this relic was... if it was legitimate enough to make Selick believe... then we were willing to believe, too.¡±

    The veteran shakes his head and his face subtly twists with disdain. ¡°How foolish.¡± He condemns the monks and their blind trust in their superior.

    ¡°Indeed. It was extremely foolish, looking back on it now... But we had a problem ¨C Pontiff Reticus... If a large group of us would leave without his knowledge... it would be only a matter of time before he''d notice, and begin questioning us once we return... Thus, we resolved ourselves to staying in Armasstadt once we had left. We would leave our lives in Evatica behind... Selick took about a dozen of the younger monks... those who were close to him, admired him... and even a few monastery knights.¡±

    ¡°How did news never break out about monks and knights abandoning their post in the monastery?¡± Atticus wonders aloud.

    ¡°The clergy cares about how the public perceives them, much like the crown.¡± Kellar answers. ¡°They probably kept it secret to prevent rumors of unrest or infightin'' or some other shite. Can''t have the commonfolk thinkin'' they''re disorganized or what-have-you.¡±

    ¡°So what happened once you reached Armasstadt?¡± Veros asks the undead man.

    ¡°Us monks who accompanied Selick... finally had an opportunity to the see relic with our own two eyes.¡± Lias lifts his hands to cup a large, imaginary object. ¡°A massive, beautiful egg... made of ivory... decorated with gold and sapphires... We could sense an overwhelming, magical energy radiating from it... far stronger than any arcane orb.¡±

    Veros narrows his eyes in suspicion of this alleged relic. Behind him is Zyra, with an expression of sudden realization followed by subtle dread washing over her face.

    Lias continues. ¡°The energy was dark... It was a horrible, threatening power. Some of us were hesitant to come near it... But Zellen Hayne ¨C the archduke''s advisor ¨C was certain... that it was a relic from Zerruth, the old God of Death.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Veros utters, remembering Erik mentioning that Aldrua ¨C the sacrificial ritual ¨C and its ties to Zerruth. ¡°Why Zerruth? What does he have to do with the relic?¡±

    ¡°Because of the clergy''s denouncement of him so many years ago... Selick had believed him to have grown angry, resentful of his abandonment... Mount Armas was said to have been... the site where he would offer sacrifices... to please his love, the Goddess Arcturia, so the relic''s appearance there... must not have been a coincidence. Or so we were told.¡±

    Veros sighs and brings his palm to his forehead in exasperation. ¡°Oh, no... You can''t be serious. You just believed that? You believed that tale without questioning it?¡±

    Ashamed of his naivete, Lias shakes his head. ¡°We had no other hypotheses as to what else the relic could be... So we believed Hayne. We believed Selick...¡±

    ¡°And then what happened?¡±

    ¡°With the blessing of Archduke Westshire, we experimented with it... tried to find a way to activate it, so to speak. But days passed, then weeks passed; we didn''t know how to do it... Until Hayne approached the younger monks, and told us he might have discovered the secret... He gave us the mission of traveling to nearby villages to prepare to spread the word... of Zerruth''s return.¡±

    ¡°Spread the word how?¡±

    ¡°By instilling the fear of the God into them...¡± Lias answers while looking at Veros with a regretful gaze. ¡°We were told that we would know when they were successful... and we were given designated villages to visit. As you can see, I was told to come to Adderland. The people were hesitant to heed my warnings... They didn''t believe me, and convincing them was an uphill battle... Until the mist finally arrived, and shrouded the region. Then, they came to me, and I did as I was told... I had pushed them to decide, mostly out of fear and confusion, myself... which among them would be offered as sacrifices to appease the furious Zerruth... and rid us of the mist.¡±

    ¡°And they believed you?¡± Veros asks, growing more baffled and disgusted. ¡°Why would you want a God of death to communicate with you, of all things? Let alone an angry one? What''s the purpose of summoning such a being, even if you could? What good could come of it?¡±

    ¡°Selick seemed so sure that by gaining the favor of Zerruth, he could find a faster way to godly power... Of course Zerruth would lash out at the humans who denounced him... but if we could please him with enough sacrifices, then perhaps he could have mercy and listen to our needs... If Selick could achieve that, then he was fine with sacrificing as many as he needed.¡±

    ¡°What a bunch of fuckin'' nutjob zealots.¡± Kellar can''t contain his disgust. ¡°Even if the Gods would really speak to us, you didn''t stop to think that this shit is why Zerruth was denounced to begin with? Why the fuckin'' hell would an angry God of death show mercy after being abandoned for hundreds of years? Sacrifices? To to gain godly power? Gimme a damn break.¡±

    Royd shakes his head and finally speaks up with a condemning tone and hateful leer. ¡°You unleashed this infection upon the land because Selick and Hayne were insane enough to try and communicate with Zerruth and use him after offering him lives? Such repulsive arrogance...¡±

    ¡°What happened at Armasstadt to cause to appearance of the mist?¡± Veros continues to interrogate. ¡°What exactly did Hayne do to the relic?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know...¡± Lias sullenly answers. ¡°I never found out... I''ve been afraid to go back to Armasstadt ever since...¡±

 XXI. Judgement (Section 2)

    ¡°So you stuck around Adderland and killed people? Is that it? Sacrificed them to appease a raging God of death?¡±

    ¡°We began by sacrificing five people at first... by lying them down and cutting their throats ceremoniously, the ancient way...¡± Lias makes a slow cutting motion with his finger against the side of neck, implying the villagers were killed by having their neck artery sliced. ¡°But the mist persisted, and they reanimated and attacked... That was when we truly realized how dire our situation was, and people started to become unhinged... Then we sacrificed several more, and then several more, and then several more... No matter how many lives we offered, they simply came back.¡±

    Veros sighs again, frustrated that the escalation of the situation doesn''t cease. ¡°I can''t believe this. You went straight to desperate ritual sacrifice? Did no one else just leave? Travel south?¡±

    ¡°Almost half of the people in the village did in fact leave... Others stayed, now convinced that the mist was the cause of angry Gods, who couldn''t be outran... But no matter how many lives were offered, the strange mist never went away... The villagers became desperate; they became hostile towards me, blaming me for bringing this curse to them... Then they began blaming each other. Infighting broke out among us, causing many to start lashing out... killing one another in their owns homes, which led to more reanimations who had to be put down.¡±

    ¡°I guess that explains all the corpses in the houses.¡± Kellar somberly remarks. ¡°But what about the bodies outside that were burned? What happened with them?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± Lias turns reluctant despite his straightforward explanation so far. He pauses nervously, and his gaze drops to the floor.

    ¡°Answer the question, monk!¡± Veros angrily seizes the clergyman''s by his robes again and lifts him from his seat.

    ¡°I think they... were people from other villages...¡± Lias concedes and frightfully starts to explain. ¡°I-I don''t know who they were, or why they came here... I just ambushed them, and knocked them unconscious and... and set them on fire. At the time, I still thought more sacrifices would be needed, but offered in a different manner.¡±

    ¡°You... You burned them while they were still alive?! Why?!¡± The furious veteran yells, throwing the monk back down onto the cot. ¡°Why did you burn them alive?!¡± He screams the question again.

    ¡°I thought it was the proper way to sacrifice them to Zerruth...¡± The monk continues his explanation, growing hasty along with his fear of the livid man''s wrath. ¡°I had learned of a sacrificial ritual associated with Zerruth... but wasn''t sure of how to do it, so I improvised in my desperation. They kept coming... more people, every few days, from surrounding villages and towns... And I kept ambushing and burning them...¡±

    ¡°Shit...¡± Kellar utters in pure disgust. ¡°You''ve lost your mind, holy man.¡±

    ¡°Then what?¡± Veros urges Lias to continue, maintaining a grasp on the little composure he has left despite being clearly furious beyond measure. ¡°What happened to you? Why are you dead?¡±

    ¡°I... finally had enough... I had offered so many to Zerruth, but the mist never went away... Sometimes other undead people would wander into Adderland... and I had to deal with them myself... I grew tired of waiting for salvation, so I tried to kill myself by cutting my own throat... But it didn''t work, and I came back, but somehow kept my mind intact.¡±

    ¡°Well, aren''t you a lucky one?¡± Royd bitterly remarks.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Lias shakes his head once more. ¡°No... Not lucky at all... Every second I''m undead, my flesh decays further... And I continually witness the outcome of my ignorant zealotry and senseless admiration of insane men... I''ve waited so long for others to come by so I can ask them to kill me. It must be by someone else''s hand... Please.¡± His voice shakes and breaks with obvious desperation.

    ¡°You want us to kill you?¡± Veros inquires, his eyes burning with spite. ¡°You deserve this fate, monk. You helped bring this hell upon the land, all because you followed a lunatic who wanted to control a God. You know, we discovered other undead monks before, and I was foolish enough to feel sorry for them. I assumed they were simply making a routine visit as they sometimes do. Now I know they were the cause of all this.¡± He turns away angrily, trying to collect his thoughts on all the new, horrifying information that was given to the group.

    ¡°Please...¡± Lias slowly pushes himself off of his cot and falls to his knees to beg for his end. ¡°I told you everything I know... I can''t wait for anyone else; I want to die... I want to be truly dead... I''ve confessed my sins, and I wish for judgement.¡±

    ¡°You''ve got a lot of fuckin'' nerve asking for a merciful death after forcin'' not-so-merciful ones on unsuspectin'' innocents.¡± Kellar spits venomous words at the disgraced clergyman. ¡°Why do you deserve it?¡±

    ¡°I don''t...¡± Lias admits, becoming more despairing, his voice almost turning into a wail. ¡°But I just don''t want to exist this way... I''ll accept whatever eternal damnation awaits me in the afterlife... But please... please don''t leave me like this.¡±

    The Mistwalkers leer at the pleading monk with a mixture of pity, disgust, and hatred. It''s clear that innumerable mixed feelings are contained between all six of them. They glance at each other, unsure of how to approach the predicament.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± Veros asks Atticus, who''s been quiet until this point. ¡°I''m too angry to think straight. I''ll let you decide what we do with him.¡±

    The knight glares at Lias''s decaying face, whose eyes contain an overpowering aura of desperation and self-loathing. His shoulders tremble under the weight of an impossibly heavy emotional burden ¨C of guilt that he knows he can never truly make up for. Atticus ponders the man''s nature. Was he ever evil at his core before this nightmare began? Or rather, was he driven to evil acts by circumstance, as a pawn to a greater scheme perpetuated by the insane ambitions of even more insane men? Even outside of that, would it simply be practical to kill him right now? The knight has many things to ponder before a choice can be made.

    ¡°...I say we execute him.¡± Atticus answers after the extended moment of deliberation.

    ¡°You sure that''s okay?¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°I don''t know if this bastard deserves an easy way out of his sufferin''. This is all his own doing.¡±

    ¡°He did terrible things, yes. But I believe he was just an accessory to a greater plan. I don''t think he would''ve done the things he''s admitted to if he simply decided to stay in Evatica.¡± The knight calmly explains his stance on the matter. ¡°And all that aside, leaving him here to rot slowly doesn''t help our mission to stop the mist. Worst case, he may even truly lose his last bit of sanity and become violent at the next people who come to Adderland, should we fail. If he wants judgement, then we might as well give it to him and move on.¡±

    ¡°Thank you...¡± Lias prostrates in gratitude. ¡°Thank you, sir knight...¡±

    Veros sighs. ¡°Very well.¡± He speaks, now much calmer thanks to Atticus''s diffusion of the situation. ¡°We''ll do this in a... somewhat official way. We need a chopping block.¡±

    ¡°There''s one behind the house...¡± The monk answers.

    ¡°Kellar, fetch the block while we take our clergy friend outside.¡± The veteran commands, and bends over to grab Lias by the arm and pull him up. Maintaining his angry glare, he speaks in a low, threatening tone to the decaying clergyman. ¡°I don''t know how a small group of people could cause so much irreparable damage to their own home country, and for something as insane as communicating with Gods with the intent of using them to their own ends. I''d ask you if it was worth it, but I already know the answer.¡±

    He leads the rotting holy man outside, with the others following, except Kellar, who walks to the back yard to fetch the block. They return to the village square, where the charred bodies still lie. Lias gets one last somber look at his horrific handiwork ¨C leftovers of his crazed zealotry. Soon, Kellar arrives with the chopping block in his hands, and sets it down in front of the monk.

 XXI. Judgement (Section 3)

    ¡°On your knees.¡± Veros orders, pushing Lias down by the shoulders and forcing him to his knees, where he bends forward and places his chest against the block, his hand hanging off the opposite edge.

    The other five Mistwalkers watch with bated breath as the clergyman soon receives the punishment he asked for. While he awaits the next step, he closes his eyes momentarily for a last chance of reflection on his actions, and to savor the relief he feels that his cursed existence will finally end. Veros unsheathes his sword and turns it over, standing the weapon on its tapered point and clasping the hilt with both hands to begin giving the monk his last rites.

    ¡°Lias Normand, you''ve been sentenced to death for your confessed crimes of ritualistic murder, torture, manipulating others to commit murder, and being an accessory to a conspiracy to overthrow the clergy.¡± Veros''s judgmental speech condemns the disgraced monk. ¡°Do you have any last words before the sentence is carried out?¡±

    ¡°I do...¡± Lias answers. ¡°I assume you all will... continue north?¡±

    ¡°We will. Why?¡±

    ¡°The papers next to my cot... I''ve spent much of my free time writing down my story, my thoughts... as the lonely months passed. Please... collect them and place them next to my body... for others to find later. I want people to know of how the mist came about, and that in my final days, I became regretful of my actions...¡±

    The veteran sighs softly. ¡°Very well. We can do that. Anything else?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± Lias lifts his head slightly to look at the Mistwalkers who are silently bearing witness to his execution. ¡°I''m truly sorry... about everything. I know my apology comes far too late... and is far too little... but please believe me when I say it. I had no idea things would turn out this way.¡±

    The onlookers don''t respond, unsure of whether they should offer their forgiveness, or even if it''s in their right to do so. All they can offer at the moment is the quiet guarantee that his final words have fallen upon living ears. Content with this, Lias lowers his head again.

    ¡°Please... Go on.¡± The decomposing clergyman utters.

    Veros takes a sturdy stance, lifts his sword, and lines up the blade with the back of Lias''s neck to get his aim straight. The veteran brings his blade overhead, takes a deep breath, and swings it down in a vertical chopping arc with great force, slicing through the monk''s rotting flesh in one fluid motion. Lias''s head hits the ground with a thump, and his body lies motionless against the chopping block.

    A contemplative and deeply melancholic silence washes over the six Mistwalkers as they stand still, leering at the headless corpse with mixed emotions. Meeting Lias, hearing his story, immediately executing him ¨C it all happened extremely quickly and with little ceremony, and they don''t know how to feel. His crimes were too severe to feel sorry for him, but he was also too pitiful in his last moments for his death to be celebrated. He followed insane men on a journey to realize their demented ambitions, and paid the price for it, first with his own sanity, then with his body, and finally with his life.

    Even beyond that, the group have been given an incredible amount of new information regarding the mist that they had no clue about mere hours ago, and they don''t know what to make of it, or even where to begin doing so. What exactly is the relic? What happened to Grand Monk Selick? Advisor Zellen Hayne? Where was Archduke Westshire during all of this? They can''t help but feel that despite so much new intelligence, they''ll be leaving Adderland with as many questions as they entered with ¨C possibly more, in fact.

    ¡°I''ll grab those papers.¡± Atticus is the first to break the bleak silence, remembering to fulfill Lias''s last wish. He walks away to retrieve the monk''s writings. The others, however, still drown in the somber silence as they quietly collect their horses and prepare to leave the village soon.

    The knight enters Lias''s home, and instead of directly approaching the collection of paper on the stool near the cot, he decides to take the opportunity to give a quick look around. The only other place of note is the single bedroom that''s partially hidden behind a curtain. He walks up to the doorway and pushes the cloth aside to peer into the room. He finds a mess ¨C various religious items, statues, and cloths scattered around the room, likely previously owned by Adderland villagers before Lias killed them. It seems as though Lias constructed some sort of shrine for worship early on, but after he lost hope, he thrashed the room in frustration. A subtle glint of reflected light on the floor catches Atticus''s attention. He approaches the source, and finds a medallion, similar to the ones that were found on the two monks the group discovered outside of Levinburg. He kneels down to pick it up, and takes it with him back to the previous room.

    Back outside, after Atticus collects the papers into one neat stack, he walks over to Lias''s body, which is still resting against the chopping block, and sets the stack nearby. He grabs a few sizable stones to weigh the papers down, along with the medallion he picked up a minute prior.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°Are you finished?¡± Veros asks, standing next to his horse and obviously eager to finally leave.

    Atticus nods. ¡°I am.¡±

    ¡°Let''s continue, then.¡± The veteran brusquely commands while mounting his horse again. ¡°We''ve wasted more than enough daylight here. We still need to stop by the stream up north to refill our water pouches and allow the horses to drink.¡±

    Everyone else quietly mounts their horses, knowing that there is almost certainly no more undead to be wary of in the village. They opt to leave Adderland as quickly as possible, leaving Lias''s body in the execution position, his head some inches away, and his extensive journal nearby.

    After several miles of silent riding, shrouded in the pensive silence that persisted from Lias''s execution, the aforementioned clear water stream comes into sight, along with a slightly arcing wooden bridge offering safe passage over it. Before they deviate from the road to approach the water, they make sure to give one last examination of the grey curtain surrounding them. There hasn''t been any sighting of undead since departing Adderland, and after deeming the area safe, they begin to dismount and guide their horses to the water.

    Veros dips his bare hand into the stream, cups it, and brings it back up to give a closer look at the water. Thankfully, it seems as clean as it likely always has been, even before the mist. They all begin to dip their water pouches into the stream to collect some water for themselves, too.

    ¡°I don''t know if I can wait until we reach Surling to finally drink this water.¡± Royd finally speaks up, gazing at his pouch with clear longing. He licks his dry lips in anticipation.

    ¡°It may be clear water, but it could still contain something that might make you sick.¡± Veros suggests his companion stays patient. ¡°I don''t think you''d want a stomach bug on top of your shoulder injury.¡±

    Royd sighs in defeat. ¡°Fair point.¡± He laments as he seals his now-full water pouch.

    ¡°So...¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°Are we goin'' to talk about all that shit Lias told us?¡± He looks around at group, somewhat annoyed at their silence about the topic.

    ¡°I don''t think there''s much to discuss.¡± Veros responds, reaching into one of his saddlebags and pulling out the two medallions he took from the bodies of the undead monks. ¡°He didn''t really give us any kind of information that would change the approach of our mission ¨C just that Selick and Hayne were lunatics, along with the other monks we found.¡± He stares at the medallions, reconsidering returning them to the monastery like he originally planned. He holds them out to Kellar. ¡°Do you still want these? To sell?¡±

    The rogue shakes his head. ¡°Hell no. That garbage might as well be covered in all kinds of curses as far as I''m concerned now. If I touch ''em, I might go insane, myself.¡±

    Veros retracts his arm and stares at them again. He doesn''t feel the need to do any sort of good deed in the memory of traitorous monks who abandoned the clergy to seek power from an unknown, ungodly source. Fed up with them, he cocks his arm back and throws them downstream, where they hit the water with a faint, distant splash.

    ¡°I still can''t believe the villagers in the area were so quick to just... sacrifice each other.¡± Kellar continues. ¡°Things must''ve escalated so damn quickly in these northern settlements, after the mist swept across the land in the blink of an eye.¡±

    ¡°The mist showed up and suddenly the dead begin to come alive with ferocious intent.¡± The veteran responds. ¡°How can such a thing be explained to the common man? It''d be enough to drive most normal people to desperation.¡±

    ¡°Does this all mean,¡± Zyra talks for the first time since Lias''s lengthy confession while staring into the transparent water, ¡°that the first undead who showed up after the mist''s appearance were likely sacrificed by other frightened villagers? Or even the monks themselves?¡±

    ¡°It''s likely.¡± Atticus answers. ¡°Lias said he was unsure of how to perform Aldrua properly, so he just killed people. It''s reasonable to assume the other monks didn''t know, either.¡±

    ¡°So the charred undead we saw at Legarthat were caused by monks who did know how to do it?¡± Zyra asks.

    The knight nods. ¡°Seems so.¡±

    ¡°Wait a second.¡± Kellar chimes in. ¡°Lena said that there were Aldrua victims in Terrance when she first arrived there, and they reanimated and attacked her and her party. But the unresponsive bodies in Adderland didn''t, even though they were burned too ¨C just not in a proper Aldrua manner.¡±

    ¡°So you''re suggesting that bodies that are burned outside of Aldrua don''t come back?¡± Zyra responds.

    The ex-mercenary shrugs. ¡°Well, it seems that way, doesn''t it?¡±

    ¡°That''s odd.¡± The mage comments. ¡°If that''s true, then it''s good we have two people here capable of pyromancy. But you''d think it would be the other way around. People burned in Aldrua would have successfully been sacrificed to Zerruth, wouldn''t they? Isn''t that the whole idea of the ritual?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know if we''ll ever find out answers about things that concern the Gods.¡± Veros interjects. ¡°It''s odd, as you say, but this probably isn''t something we''d get a definitive answer for.¡±

    ¡°Unless we reach Armasstadt.¡± Kellar responds. ¡°If Selick or Hayne are somehow still there, controlling that relic, maybe we can ask them directly.¡±

    ¡°We have to get there first.¡± The team leader remarks. ¡°In two days, we might know ¨C as long as nothing goes wrong.¡± He suddenly lets out a sigh. ¡°You know, up until now, I wasn''t sure of what caused the mist to come into being. But now that I know, I almost wish it was a cause that wasn''t so... selfish and avoidable. So... human.¡±

    ¡°I understand how you feel.¡± Atticus agrees. ¡°I think everyone in Yhordran expected the mist to be the result of some catastrophe beyond our comprehension or control. Yet it turned out to be the result of... zealous meddling.¡± He shakes his head judgementally as he finishes his sentence. ¡°But is there any ''right'' way to bring about a plague that kills so many?¡±

    ¡°I suppose not.¡± Veros looks down at the water once more, eyeing his reflection, quietly surprised at himself for being somewhat disappointed in such a thing.

    After several minutes of continued quiet deliberation on Lias''s claims and allowing the horses to drink clear water from the stream, the six Mistwalkers mount once again and proceed to Surling.

 XXII. Crystals (Section 1)

    Some time after crossing the stream, the group is steadily approaching the village of Surling at a decent pace, with only a few isolated run-ins with hostile undead stepping into their path. Atticus and Veros are at the front, as usual.

    ¡°I''m unsure of what to expect when we reach Armasstadt.¡± The knight breaks the silence to air his thoughts. ¡°I never really thought that much about it ¨C partially because I didn''t think we''d make it ¨C until we met Lias.¡±

    ¡°I understand what you mean.¡± Veros sullenly replies. ¡°I never once considered any sort of clergy involvement with the creation with the mist, myself.¡±

    ¡°You did seem quite angry as Lias was explaining things.¡±

    ¡°I just can''t stand the thought of overly-zealous monks doing such a terrible thing.¡± The veteran shakes his head in frustration. ¡°It feels like they''ve committed treason, but a form of it that exceeds the severity of treason against your country. It feels like they''ve decided to betray every living thing in the known world. I''m shocked Selick managed to seem well-adjusted enough to become a Grand Monk if he''s capable of doing such a thing.¡±

    ¡°What has Pontiff Reticus been doing since the mist appeared?¡± Atticus asks as the unknowing foreigner.

    ¡°He''s been trying his best to keep the people calm, but as you can guess, it''s extremely difficult. Trying to keep order in the midst of catastrophe is not easy. I would know.¡± Veros can remember the various mayhem that he''s had to endure as a city guard before the barrier was erected, and the Kudura war before that. ¡°For the first few months of the mist''s existence, crime rate at Evatica had skyrocketed. Particularly theft.¡±

    ¡°I''ve been considering the supposed strained relationship between Selick and Reticus, as Lias mentioned. Do you think it''s possible Reticus has made the connection between the mist and Selick by now?¡±

    Veros shrugs. ¡°I can''t really say. Selick and his followers left about a six months prior. It''d be difficult to simply guess the connection without any evidence. But if he did, then he''s a smart man.¡±

    ¡°I''m a bit curious as to why a search for Selick didn''t start after he left.¡± The knight ponders aloud. ¡°Since you''re part of the city guard, was there anything that could''ve been done about that?¡±

    ¡°Well, there''s nothing necessarily illegal about monks leaving the monastery. It''s ultimately a relationship between a man and his religion, not between a man and the law. Even if he and Reticus hated each other, that wouldn''t be enough to make us look for him to arrest him. We''d need definitive proof that he departed with the intent of committing a crime. And we never received such a thing, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    After a few more hours of riding, the Mistwalkers finally reach Surling. They begin their usual clearing procedure with Atticus and Veros entering and inspecting homes lining the main road cutting through the village.

    One by one, they enter different houses in hopes of finding the ideal one to stay the night in. There are a handful of straggling undead scattered throughout the area, but outside of those encounters, nothing of note is discovered among the leftovers of the past lives that inhabited the ghost town.

    They eventually come across a large house with fenced-in stables behind it. It''s unlikely they''ll come across a more appropriate home to stay in, and so they decide to rest here. Inside is similar to Lena''s manor back at Terrance, featuring a long main hall with a fire pit, massive table in the center, a high ceiling, and a single, large bedroom at the back.

    After the group leads their horses into the stables to unsaddle them and bring their belongings inside the house, one last patrol is done by Atticus and Veros around the immediate perimeter to guarantee that surrounding homes are clear of threats, as well. Once they deem the area safe, they return to the house and everyone finally begins eating their rationed dinners just as the sunlight begins to fade away and the impenetrable darkness of misty night shrouds the land. Their paltry meals of fruit and vegetables have begun to tire them, and they''ve started to crave real dishes again.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    The group is sitting at the end of the long table closest to the lit fire pit near the front door, which they''ve barricaded with another, smaller table for extra security through the night. The lively flame in the pit is heating a pot they found and wiped clean, then filled with the water they collected from the stream earlier to purify it. Veros, content with the length at which the water had been heated, lifts the pot and places it on the table, on top of a thick layers of cloths to not scorch the wooden surface.

    ¡°Let''s wait to allow the water to cool, and we can finally quench our thirst.¡± Veros says as the returns to his seat at the table. ¡°I know everyone''s feeling as dry as a bone, but stay patient for a little longer.¡±

    ¡°I feel like it''s been an eternity since the last time I ate meat.¡± Royd complains while biting out a massive chunk of an apple. ¡°If we accomplish our mission and make it back to Evatica, I''m eating an entire cow, maybe with a whole pig on the side.¡±

    ¡°Erik.¡± Veros gets the attention of the listless noble. ¡°I don''t suppose any of those religious history books you read before have mentioned anything about a holy relic in Mount Armas? Or possibly any relic related to Zerruth?¡±

    Erik narrows his eyes and racks his brain for a moment. ¡°No, I can''t say I''ve seen anything like that mentioned in any of those books. I''ve seen relics mentioned, but I don''t think any of them had ties to Zerruth.¡±

    ¡°I can''t stop thinking about that thing.¡± The veteran comments with a sigh. ¡°It sounds so mysterious. An ivory egg covered in jewels? Why would such a thing be buried in the mountain? And how in the world could it have caused the mist?¡±

    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡± The archer admits to ignorance on the topic.

    Zyra, who''s quietly listening to the conversation, furrows her brow and stares intensely at the surface of the table, completely lost in thought. Atticus, who''s sitting next to her, notices.

    ¡°Zyra,¡± he softly calls to her, ¡°is something wrong?¡±

    Without looking at him, she replies with a hint of reluctance in her voice. ¡°I... have an idea as to what that relic might be.¡±

    Veros perks up with interest. ¡°You do?¡± He asks.

    ¡°It''s just a guess.¡± Zyra clarifies before giving her explanation. ¡°But in the university, we''re taught about magic history. There''s a massive section of our curriculum dedicated to magic-based disasters, and most of it centers around the black arcane crystals.¡±

    ¡°Black arcane crystals?¡± Royd repeats. ¡°Sounds ominous.¡±

    ¡°They''re basically arcane stones with an insanely high amount of pure magic energy in them. They''re stuffed with so much power, that they''re completely unstable to the point of being both dangerous and useless, because tampering with them in any way can simply cause a catastrophe. However, it''s possible to destroy them with certain spells that have been crafted specifically for that purpose.¡±

    ¡°How common are these black arcane crystals?¡± Veros asks, intrigued by the subject. ¡°I don''t think I''ve ever heard of these things before.¡±

    ¡°They''re incredibly rare nowadays.¡± The mage answers with a slight shake of her head. ¡°According to the texts we have at school, the last one was discovered in Drangvus about a hundred years ago. They had the sense to immediately destroy it, thankfully.¡±

    Drangvus is Yhordran''s southern neighbor, a country that rests across approximately two hundred miles of ocean. In terms of size, it has about two-and-a-half times the land area of Yhordran.

    ¡°There was one discovered in Threcia about a hundred and fifty years before that, as well.¡± Atticus interjects with his own limited knowledge on the subject. ¡°I remember reading about it once. It was also destroyed soon after being found.¡±

    ¡°Are these crystals just found in the earth like normal arcane ore?¡± Veros asks.

    Zyra nods. ¡°They are. No one''s sure exactly how they form. There are some theories that they''re created when multiple arcane veins in the earth tangle and leak into each other for an extremely long time under the constant pressure of the ground above it. Other, more far-fetched and religiously-driven ideas suggests they''re here from higher beings or are connected to the unknown.¡±

    ¡°What sort of disasters have these things caused?¡± Royd chimes in with a question of his own.

    ¡°Sometimes they stay magically linked to the veins they were to close to at the time of being excavated and cause things like earthquakes, tsunamis, or even volcanic eruptions.¡± Her face suddenly grows more somber. ¡°But... mostly they just cause massive explosions that unleash all of their concentrated power ¨C explosions big enough to turn all of Evatica into a barren wasteland, for example.¡±

    ¡°That''s... incredibly bad news.¡± Royd becomes wide-eyed with fear at the thought of such a disaster striking his homeland.

 XXII. Crystals (Section 2)

    ¡°There were rumors that the mist isn''t magic-based, though, aren''t there?¡± Kellar interjects, his face twisted in bewilderment.

    ¡°True, but that could simply be due to the fact that no one''s been able to control a black crystal before, so we don''t know what they''re truly capable of. I can''t be sure that the relic really is one unless we see it.¡± Zyra clarifies. ¡°The fact that it did something other than explode or cause a natural disaster makes me question it. If it is a black crystal, then they''ve somehow managed to make more progress with manipulating it than any person in recorded history.¡±

    ¡°If it''s a black crystal, do you know how to get rid of it?¡± Veros asks with an intense gaze, hoping to hear a positive answer.

    The pyromancer sullenly shakes her head. ¡°No, I don''t know the gesture or incantation for the necessary spells. Even if I did, I couldn''t perform them anyway. They require a six-stone bracelet, and I... I would probably kill myself trying to cast it. The mental strain would be far too much for me to handle. I almost certainly wouldn''t even be able to finish it.¡± She glances down at her right wrist, and gives a dejected glance at the two red stones in her bracelet.

    ¡°Of course.¡± The veteran sighs in disappointment. ¡°Let''s cross our fingers and hope that it''s not one, then. I can''t imagine what else could cause such destruction on this scale, though.¡±

    ¡°If it''s a black crystal, the implications would be... hard to grasp.¡± Zyra adds, becoming more and more mesmerized at the idea that a source of so much power can be harnessed by a human. ¡°Hundreds of years of attempts to use them like normal arcane stones have gone by, but they all ended in total failure. Maybe it''s only a matter of time before it actually becomes possible to stabilize and control them.¡±

    ¡°I dread to think what any person would do with such power in their hands.¡± Veros responds with a deeply disapproving shake of his head. ¡°Can kingdoms and provinces truly trust each other to not simply... wipe one another out?¡± His idle thoughts send him into a spiral of doubt about the future of humanity, should they ever find ways to possess such immense arcane strength.

    ¡°Maybe it could really be a relic from Zerruth.¡± Kellar comments, humoring the theory that the source of the mist is truly godly in nature. ¡°I think that would frighten me more than a black crystal. Because how the hell would be deal with a real relic from a God? Burying it in the mountain again might be out of the question.¡±

    ¡°Let''s not make any defeatist assumptions when we''re barely under two days from finally reaching our goal.¡± Veros stops the doomsaying back and forth before the group becomes overly pessimistic. ¡°Whatever the source of the mist could be ¨C either a true relic or a manipulated black arcane crystal ¨C we''ll cross that bridge when we get there. Even if we don''t have the means to quell it ourselves, we''ll at least be able to know. And that''s more than what the entirety of Yhordran has been able to get so far.¡±

    Not long after the discussion on black crystals, the water in the large pot has finally cooled off enough to be consumed. Veros takes everyone''s water pouches ¨C and glasses taken with them from Torvus''s eatery at Zenith Gate ¨C and fills them up one by one before handing them back. Royd, unable to contain his thirst, takes several big gulps, immediately drinking almost a third of the water he has.

    ¡°Gods, it''s about time.¡± He savors the lukewarm but clean water, wiping the droplets that moisten his hairy chin. ¡°My mouth has been dryer than a desert all day.¡±

    ¡°Say, Atticus.¡± Erik speaks up after taking a small sip from his pouch. ¡°Mind if I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± The knight responds following a swig of his own.

    ¡°I''ve been keeping this myself since I wasn''t sure if you wanted to discuss it, but if it''s alright with you, could you tell me what Threcia is like?¡± The noble is unable to contain his curiosity. His eyes practically glint with interest. ¡°I''ve always wanted to travel to other continents, but my introverted nature ultimately keeps me tied to Evatica. I''ve read books about it, but I want to hear it described by someone who lived there.¡±

    Atticus pauses for a moment as he seals his pouch, then nods slightly. ¡°Sure, I can tell you about it.¡± Next to him, Zyra suddenly perks up with interest, too. ¡°What do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°Nothing in particular.¡± Erik responds. ¡°Just give any details that come to mind.¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± The knight starts with a small sigh, spending a moment to ponder what aspects of his homeland to describe first. ¡°As you may know, the city of Threcia proper is right up against the Northern Rhodam Ocean, in the northeastern section of Rhodanion. The land south of it is almost entirely flat, grassy land for many miles in all directions. It''s quite hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but it''s typically dry all year round.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°What sort of animals are wandering around the flatlands?¡± The mage suddenly interrupts with a question of her own, her eyes brimming with intrigue.

    ¡°There are several types of wild dogs around the region. The smaller brown coyotes can be seen immediately around Threcia, but during the winter, the larger white wolves come down from the northwest to hunt for food. There''s no shortage of rabbits and field mice, as they can be seen through all four seasons.¡±

    ¡°Is the scenery nice?¡± Zyra continues her eager inquiries. ¡°The flatlands around Threcia, I mean.¡±

    Atticus nods. ¡°In the spring, it''s gorgeous. There''s a lot of tall grass that sway gently in the breeze. There are patches of blue asters and white indigos scattered around the area.¡± The knight''s expression softens as he reminisces on the awe-striking beauty of his home. ¡°Leaving the walls of Threcia to just walk around and take in nature is extremely pleasant at times.¡±

    The young mage momentarily pauses from her enthusiastic questions to admire the peaceful eyes of her comrade. She realizes this is the most calm she''s seen him when talking about Threcia. He finally seems at ease on the subject and willing to talk about it in depth with little apprehension.

    ¡°How about the city itself?¡± Erik finally finds room to ask a question for himself. ¡°I''ve read that it''s quite dense.¡±

    ¡°It is somewhat crammed in certain places.¡± The knight resumes. ¡°It''s not unlike Evatica''s lower districts in that way. Some areas are almost maze-like ¨C it''s very easy for someone to get lost if they aren''t used to the layout. Thankfully, as you approach the center of the city, things begin to clear up, the streets become wider, and the architecture becomes more intricate. The streets are made of square limestone slabs, as opposed to many different sized cobblestones in Evatica.¡±

    ¡°What''s the royal family''s castle like?¡± The noble asks. ¡°Since you were a royal guard, you must''ve wandered the halls somewhat frequently.¡±

    Atticus''s face straightens for a brief moment, which Zyra notices. She worries that the discussion might have become a bit too personal for him, but suddenly, he nods as the corner of his lips curve into a small smile.

    ¡°I have.¡± The knight answers. ¡°It''s called the White Keep. It''s an amazing castle made entirely of pristine, white marble. It sits closer to the northern side of the city, and it has twenty bedrooms, a huge foyer, and massive ballroom.¡±

    ¡°Twenty?¡± Erik brings his head back in surprise. ¡°That''s impressive.¡±

    ¡°What are some Threcian foods you like to eat?¡± Zyra changes the topic to something more domestic.

    ¡°I, uh...¡± Atticus becomes a bit bashful all of a sudden. ¡°I really like Threcian desserts. They''re mostly baked foods.¡±

    ¡°You have a sweet tooth?¡± The mage reels back in playfully exaggerated shock. ¡°I never would''ve guessed.¡±

    ¡°Threcians really enjoy experimenting with pies, cakes, cookies, biscuits ¨C things like that. There''s so many baked dessert vendors on the street every day, it''s amazing that the average Threcian isn''t a rolling ball of fat.¡±

    ¡°Including you?¡± Zyra asks while poking Atticus''s waist. He lightly swats her hand away, and she muffles a giggle. ¡°I don''t blame you, I like baked desserts too. I''d probably gorge myself if I ever visit Threcia.¡±

    ¡°Are there any interesting landmarks in the city?¡± Erik interjects with another question relating more to high-class interests.

    The knight leans his head back and thinks of noteworthy monuments. ¡°Well, in front of the White Keep, there''s a forty-foot tall marble statue of King Xandus Ferum Threcia, the founder of the city. There''s also the Arthur Quelbyrne School of Pyromancy.¡±

    ¡°What''s the school like?¡± Zyra asks, as one would assume she would.

    ¡°It''s a large, four-floor building with many classrooms and a huge training groud. Half of the property is actually a massive library though, containing an unheard-of amount of texts dedicated to pyromancy, its history, and the biographies of the most famous pyromancers, particularly known warriors, explorers, and scholars who developed spells.¡±

    ¡°That''s so amazing...¡± The young mage''s mouth practically waters at the thought of visiting the school.

    ¡°Your homeland sounds incredibly fascinating, Atticus.¡± Erik comments with a smile. ¡°Though I''m not necessarily interested in being a mage, I''d love to visit that library just to be able to read those texts. Those books must contain the most comprehensive collection of pyromancy history and knowledge in the world.¡±

    ¡°I have a question.¡± Veros''s low voice suddenly interjects. ¡°What''s crime like in Threcia?¡± Being the man of virtue that he is, the former soldier wonders about the activity of ne''er-do-wells, hooligans, and shady figures of a city that''s comparable to Evatica.

    ¡°Well, there''s very minimal gang activity.¡± The knight answers matter-of-factly. ¡°Even the lower-class youths have access to various productive ways to spend their times thanks to the numerous guilds established all over the city. Hunter''s guild, archer''s guild, textiles, masonry, and carpentry schools ¨C they all have a rather low barrier of entry.¡±

    ¡°Interesting.¡± The veteran rubs his chin in intrigue. ¡°You almost make Threcia sound like a paradise.¡±

    ¡°In some ways, it can be.¡± Atticus tilts his head to the side slightly, unsure of how to manages his comrades'' expectations without speaking too ill of his home. ¡°But it''s bit of a high-pressure society, as well. It''s like everyone has high expectations of everyone else at all times. Threcia is also rather homogeneous in terms of lifestyle. They don''t like to offer citizenship to people who can''t live the way everyone else there lives. They view deviations from their norms as a sort of disruption, and if you act too inconsiderately, you might be exiled.¡±

    Veros shrugs, disappointed but understanding. ¡°I suppose being relatively closed-off is the only way to guarantee a society where people understand and know how to live with each other without devolving into conflict. For some people, it''s just better that way.¡±

    ¡°For what it''s worth, I feel like you would probably fit in the best out of everyone here.¡± The Threcian comments.

    ¡°I appreciate that.¡± The veteran says after a small chuckle.

 XXII. Crystals (Section 3)

    ¡°Say, I''ve been wondering something, myself.¡± Royd finally joins in. ¡°Do they smith weapons the same way they do in Threcia as they do here?¡± He asks, pointing to Atticus''s sword, which is nestled in its scabbard and leaning against the table.

    ¡°That''s a good question.¡± The knight responds, grabbing and unsheathing his weapon and letting its blade glisten in the fire light. ¡°For the most part, yes, they do. However, in special cases, such as swords for royal guardsmen ¨C like myself, weapons aren''t simply forged using furnaces. They''re made partly from extremely rare Threcium, which is commonly combined with iron for blades, including my own. Rather than melting Threcium in a furnace, they''re melted using powerful pyromancy spells. It''s common for master blacksmiths to also be master mages, too.¡± He proudly looks at his weapon, admiring it from its tapered point, down its unblemished blade, and to its polished handguard and ebony wood grip.

    ¡°Have you named it?¡± Zyra asks, her eyes lighting up with interest. ¡°I''ve heard it''s common for people to name their swords if they''re made from rare material, and especially if they''re heirlooms.¡±

    ¡°It''s a little embarrassing, but yes, I named it.¡± Atticus shyly admits while gazing at the reflective surface of the flat side of his sword. ¡°I call it ''Howler'', after its first kill: a wild wolf while I was guarding a member of the royal family outside of Threcia''s walls.¡±

    ¡°It seems like you''ve led a fascinating life, Atticus.¡± Veros remarks with a smile.

    ¡°Well, let''s just say I feel like I''ve learned a lot in my time on this earth.¡± The knight reciprocates with a smile of his own, though it seems a tad more forced than his teammates.

    For the first time in a long time, Atticus has finally allowed himself to really reminisce on his home in a positive light ¨C to treat it like the bastion he loved instead of the site of personal loss. Not only that, but he even discussed it in a way with his companions that made them desire to see it for themselves. The more he talked about Threcia, the more he realized he truly does miss the green sea of grass in the flat plains to the south, the vast blue ocean to the north, the unblemished marble architecture at the center of the city, and the white limestone streets under his feet.

    Above all else, however, he missed experiencing those things with Isabelle. He begins to wonder if his self-exile from his home was also an abandonment of his memories of her. A pang of regret strikes him as he ultimately notices the selfish nature of his running away. Now that he''s come to terms with his restrained attachment to his home, as well as with the fact that the loss of his love was truly something out of his control, he finally feels the need to return. However, he can''t do that before he accomplishes the mission he set out to do with his team.

    Atticus turns his head to look at Zyra, who is listlessly playing with the untied lace of her dark crimson hood. He wants to return to Threcia, and he also wishes to fulfill his promise and return with her. The knight recalls being drawn to the young mage before formally meeting her, and not knowing why. He still isn''t sure what made him so curious at first, but he''s glad he had the opportunity to be around her.

    Zyra suddenly turns her head in time to see Atticus gazing back at her, and she smiles. Without any hesitation, she slips her hand underneath the surface of the table, and grasps his, as if it were the most natural thing to do at the moment.

    Later that night, the Mistwalkers have decided to finally get their rest. Veros, Kellar, Royd, and Erik are sleeping on their bedrolls out in the hall. As expected, they allowed Atticus and Zyra to share the bed in the manor''s only bedroom. They lie on the feather mattress and blankets that have remained untouched for months, waiting to fall into slumber.

    ¡°Atticus?¡± Zyra speaks up in a near-whisper.

    ¡°Yes?¡± The knight responds.

    ¡°About Lias...¡± She prefaces her upcoming question. ¡°Why did you decide to execute him?¡±

    ¡°Did you not want me to?¡± Atticus asks, puzzled.

    She shakes her head. ¡°No, no. It''s not that. I was just wondering if you had any specific reason.¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± He pauses to let out a sigh, thinking of how to word his response. ¡°His eyes. They had this look ¨C one that I was familiar with. It was a look of deep, unshakable guilt, and burning hatred for himself and his actions. I''ll admit, I couldn''t help but sympathize for a moment, despite his horrific crimes. Did you think it was a bad decision?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    She shakes her head. ¡°No, I think you were right to allow it. Letting him live wouldn''t have helped us in any way, and it could''ve turned him dangerous again later. I think you made the right choice.¡± Atticus nods, quietly accepting her praise, and a momentary silence washes over them before she changes the subject. ¡°You talked a lot about Threcia tonight. You made it sound so alluring.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I''ve been avoiding the conversation about it for a while, but I''ve finally realized that I miss it. A lot. And I knew you all were probably curious about it, anyway.¡±

    ¡°So...¡± Zyra turns her head to face him with an eager smile. ¡°What kind of baked desserts are your favorite?¡±

    ¡°Are you really so surprised that I like sweets?¡± Atticus turns to look back at her, bewildered.

    She nods. ¡°Definitely. You look like the kind of person who doesn''t consider eating anything that isn''t a meat or a vegetable. So? What do you like the most?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± he begins his hesitant answer, ¡°I like cookies a lot. The more sugar, the better.¡±

    ¡°No kidding.¡± She remarks with a wide smile crossing her face. ¡°You should try my mother''s cinnamon and sugar cookies, then. It''s practically a holiday in our home when she decides to bake them.¡±

    ¡°I do like cinnamon.¡± The knight responds, clearly fantasizing about the dessert already. ¡°Does she... add butter to them? To make them soft?¡±

    Zyra suddenly bursts into a giggle fit. ¡°You like soft cookies, at that?¡±

    He heaves a drawn-out sigh. ¡°You''re really amused by this, aren''t you?¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry.¡± She forces an apology between laughs. ¡°You just keep dodging my expectations of you in ways I didn''t consider. But yes, sometimes she does add extra butter to them. I think you''d love them.¡±

    ¡°I look forward to trying them some time.¡±

    ¡°Since you''ve become more comfortable talking about Threcia, would you tell me what you were like as a child?¡±

    ¡°Well, to be honest,¡± a tinge of embarrassment hits Atticus all of a sudden, ¡°I was actually somewhat of a troublemaker when I was younger.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Once again, Zyra is shocked at a new detail about her partner''s life. ¡°How so? Did you get into fights?¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°No, nothing violent. I would sometimes steal things from street vendors.¡±

    The mage furrows her brow in curiosity. ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Like...¡± He lets out another sigh. ¡°...cookies.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my Gods.¡± She kicks up another giggle fit. ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    Atticus nods with a mischievous half-smile. ¡°I am. Sometimes I snatched cookies from street vendors.¡± He reiterates.

    ¡°I guess joining the royal guard really straightened you out then, huh?¡±

    ¡°I, uh...¡± The knight''s smile fades away as quickly as it came. ¡°About that... Joining the royal guard actually wasn''t a choice.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Zyra asks, her expression straightening to one more attentive.

    ¡°Joining the royal guard was... actually a punishment.¡± He admits with a hint of shame in his voice. ¡°You recall I said that I gave up pyromancy to learn swordsmanship, yes?¡±

    ¡°I remember.¡±

    ¡°Well, while I was learning pyromancy, I became obsessed with spells that were beyond my level. Eventually, I... I stole my teacher''s bracelet with the intent of using it to practicethem.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Atticus...¡± She utters, shocked that his younger self decided to go to such lengths.

    ¡°As punishment, I was banned from continuing any study on any school of magic. I was threatened with prison time and maybe even exile, but my teacher was kind enough to defend me despite my actions. He knew that I wasn''t intending to hurt anyone; I simply allowed my curiosity to overtake me. And Isabelle, she... She also interfered. Her family had some influence, and she was the one who suggested my punishment be mandatory enlistment with the royal guard, which is notorious for its... extremely rigorous training procedures.¡±

    ¡°I figured it was odd for a Threcian royal guardsman to not have a bracelet.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is odd for a royal guardsman to not have one. I was one of the very, very few who didn''t. I was mocked for being a ''dud,'' which is the name they give soldiers and guardsmen in Threcia for not being able to cast magic, even though I knew how, I just wasn''t allowed to.¡±

    ¡°Goodness...¡± Zyra utters, shaking her head in sympathy but also partial amusement. ¡°Why were you so desperate to learn stronger spells? Surely you would''ve known you couldn''t handle the strain?¡±

    ¡°I was just too impatient to wait for my own good.¡± He gives his honest, but poorly-reasoned motives. ¡°It was really stupid of me. Thankfully, my relationship with my teacher and Isabelle saved me from a harsher punishment. But I was able to make the best of it.¡± He says with a shrug. ¡°I can''t deny that their incredibly difficult guardsman training taught me discipline. I did miss pyromancy at first, but as I became better with the sword, I also became comfortable with the switch. But after Lena gave me this bracelet, I felt the rush of casting powerful magic again for the first time in years, and it renewed my interest a bit.¡±

    ¡°You seemed very pleased when you casted Air Cutter for the first time.¡±

    ¡°That one was actually my favorite spell back while I was studying.¡± Atticus makes the Air Cutter gesture with his left hand, pointing at the ceiling. ¡°I would spend hours in the school''s training grounds, just launching one after another.¡±

    ¡°After this is over, and we go visit Threcia, maybe you can make a case to be allowed to practice again?¡± Zyra suggests with a hopeful smile, as if their visit is a guarantee.

    ¡°That''d be nice.¡± The knight responds with a soft nod, hopeful of a second chance, as well.

    With the overpowering feeling of exhaustion finally starting to kick in, Zyra turns to her side and curls herself up into a ball against Atticus''s side. The two drift to sleep and a new day soon begins.

 XXIII. The Hand (Section 1)

    Dawn breaks, and the six Mistwalkers slowly awaken from their slumber to prepare for yet another day''s journey. Once their small morning meals are completed, they begin to reequip themselves with their armor and weapons and bundle up their bedrolls.

    ¡°Royd.¡± Veros calls out. ¡°Before you put on your chest piece, let me take another look at your wound, just in case.¡± He walks over to the brawny woodcutter and pulls down the head hole of his cotton shirt to inspect his stitched up injury. ¡°Still looks nice and clean. You should definitely be alright from here on ¨C no sign of infection at all.¡± He releases Royd''s shirt to allow him to strap his leather cuirass on.

    ¡°Looks like the only village left on our way to Armasstadt is a village called Ervine, about thirty-five miles north.¡± Kellar recites the information presented on the map he''s reading. He rubs his chin in curiosity while looking at it. ¡°I feel like I''ve heard of that place before.¡± He utters to himself before rolling the map back up. ¡°Anyway, since we''re stayin'' there for the night, we should have about sixteen miles left for tomorrow before reachin'' our destination.¡±

    ¡°As long as the sun is still out when we reach Armasstadt, then it''s alright.¡± Veros responds while putting on his own leather chest piece. ¡°Going at our usual pace, we''ll probably be there before midday.¡±

    ¡°How big is Armasstadt, anyway?¡± Royd asks. ¡°I''ve never been. By what I''ve heard, its size is comparable to Evatica. Is that true?¡±

    ¡°For the most part, yes.¡± The veteran answers. ¡°I''ve been there a few times in my life, and it is quite large, but thankfully the streets are very easy to navigate, as they''re laid out on a circular grid. They''re not as winding and confusing as certain districts in Evatica. In fact, the main road from the front gate leads straight to Armas Castle.¡±

    ¡°When was the last time you were up there?¡± Kellar interjects with a question of his own. ¡°Do you know anything about that Advisor Hayne fellow that the monk mentioned?¡±

    ¡°The last time was...¡± Veros narrows his eyes and pauses to recall the exact amount of time ago his last visit took place. ¡°Thirteen years? It was before I went to Kudura. I didn''t really pay attention to political figures during that stay, so I can''t say I know anything about him. Armasstadt is quite a large place ¨C almost as populated as Evatica. There''s a lot of people back south who are worried sick of the fates their friends and relatives might''ve suffered at the hands of the mist.¡±

    ¡°Say,¡± Kellar speaks up again, ¡°what do you think would happen after the mist disappears? So many villages and towns are going to be empty, and with the all the animals gone, what''s gonna happen with the landscape around here? Not to mention all of the corpses to identify and bury.¡±

    Veros shakes his head. ¡°I can''t even begin to speculate how the crown would approach just a vast clean-up. I assume they''d take control of the land, since technically no one owns it anymore. Legion platoons might be sent to villages to collect and bury ¨C or burn ¨C the dead. Then there''s the matter of repopulating those villages, and finding people to take over farms and such, which could take years, especially for Armasstadt. There''s too many factors to consider. If the mist were to disappear right this instant ¨C before we even reach Armasstadt ¨C the effects of it will still be felt for decades.¡±

    The rogue heaves a long, exasperated sigh. ¡°Fuckin'' hell. I know it''s a bit too late to be sayin'' this, but it feels like we''re in over our heads.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡± The veteran bluntly responds. ¡°But if it''s left alone, then decades will eventually become centuries.¡±

    ¡°Right...¡± Kellar utters as he continues to secure his sheathed sword at his waist.

    The Mistwalkers, after arming themselves and donning their armor, exit their one-night shelter through the back door leading to the yard where their horses stay, and begin to resaddle them for the upcoming journey.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°You know,¡± Royd speaks up, ¡°it''s a bit hard to notice when we don''t have the magic barrier to give us some perspective, but the fog has become much, much thicker in the last few days.¡± He turns his head around, taking note of the significant density of the grey wall surrounding them. Since leaving Rosemont, the last Legion checkpoint, the area of visibility has shrunk a daunting amount, going from approximately a three hundred foot radius, to just about two hundred.

    ¡°I''ve noticed.¡± Veros responds while tightening the saddle around his horse''s body. ¡°The rate at which it grows thicker may even increase as we approach Armasstadt. There''s no telling how low our visibility will be by this time tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°I suppose we don''t have any way to alleviate such an issue?¡± Kellar asks.

    ¡°Not if we don''t have an arcane barrier of our own, no.¡±

    ¡°Hey, Zyra.¡± The ex-mercenary turns to the mage. ¡°Anything you can do about it?¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°Nope. You need a resynthesizer, which we don''t have.¡±

    ¡°Good Gods.¡± Kellar groans. ¡°Magic has so many damn rules.¡± He gripes as he mounts his horse.

    Once they''ve readied their horses, the group mounts and proceeds northward, leaving Surling and making their way to Ervine. As they begin their final day before reaching their anticipated destination, some of them can''t help but silently theorize what awaits them at the forsaken valley city of Armasstadt. Is it a ghost town of withered remains ¨C countless unmoving corpses left behind by the initial rampage of the colorless miasma? Or are its citizens all wandering, reanimated undead ready to ambush and attack any foolhardy outsiders? What of the mist''s source? Does a mysterious holy relic wait for them? Or one of the dreaded black arcane crystals? Many possibilities swim around their minds, and it''s incredibly difficult to pinpoint the preferred outcome.

    The quiet riding is a typical tedium they''ve became very accustomed to, with the heavy silence punctuated with the muffled thumps of the feet of their own horses hitting the dirt underneath them with each step. As always, their keen eyes are peeled and alert to maintain attentiveness to their surroundings ¨C the shrinking boundary of the grey curtain at all sides.

    Before long, the first shadowy figure inside the mist appears for the day. Veros and Atticus wordlessly take notice of it without stopping or slowing their pace. The continue their advance, and the clearing mist reveals another undead villager in cotton clothing. The appearance of necrotic commonfolk has become significantly more frequent since passing the Rosemont line, as few Mistwalkers go far enough to eliminate them.

    ¡°I''ll handle this one.¡± Veros volunteers and dismounts. As soon as his feet touch the dirt, he draws his sword and grabs his shield.

    With no hesitation, the veteran walks a straight, threatening line to the undead, which matches his aggression with its own hostile approach despite being unarmed. The cadaver lunges forward with its arms extended ahead of its body. Veros lifts his shield with the intent to bash it against his foe, but the undead grabs the rim of it and begins to pull with surprising strength. The Mistwalker, with his sword hand still very free, reaches around and stabs the tapered point into the enemy''s side, forcing it to loosen its grip. He pulls his shield from the undead''s grip, cocks his arm back, and successfully connects a second bash, which knocks the corpse backwards into a stagger. Veros swings his sword in a horizontal arc at almost head level, and lodges the blade more than halfway into the nameless foe''s neck. It falls over limply, hitting the ground with a thud.

    The veteran slides his blade into his scabbard and turns to walk back to his horse and mounts again. Without a word, he presses forward and continues to lead the group north. However, after only a handful of steps, yet another shadow becomes visible behind the cloudy veil, approaching quickly. It looks significantly smaller, and its feet can be heard dashing across the dirt with a muffled patter. Soon, the figure emerges as a child ¨C an undead boy, heavily decomposed but with enough flesh on its face to still seem vaguely human. It ignores the Mistwalkers and approaches the motionless body of the adult undead Veros had just eliminated, standing with a blank expression and its eyes cast downward toward the unmoving corpse. Veros stares at the reanimated child with clear inner conflict showing on his face.

    ¡°What do you want to do?¡± Atticus asks.

    Veros doesn''t answer immediately, but continues to stare at the child for a moment before sighing. ¡°Let''s just go.¡± He utters with a clear indication of reluctance, but turns and urges his horse forward all the same, leaving the lonesome undead child behind in the clutches of the endless grey abyss.

 XXIII. The Hand (Section 2)

    ¡°You alright?¡± The knight asks his companion after the child''s figure is gone.

    ¡°Yes.¡± The veteran responds meekly as the group continues forward. ¡°It just...¡± He pauses to try and grasp the right words. ¡°It always hurts seeing children get caught up in such chaos. I''ve witnessed more than my fair share of it in Kudura, and I don''t think I''ll ever move past it.¡± He bitterly admits, with a sensation of shame enveloping over him.

    ¡°I see.¡± Atticus responds, uncertain if he should pursue the topic. ¡°You don''t have to talk about it if you don''t want to, but if you''d like to vent about it, I''ll listen.¡±

    Veros takes a deep breathe before recalling his experience in the Rhodish conflict in more detail. ¡°My platoon was sent to join with another that had been stationed in a village called Mazani, which was part of the eastern Kuduran rebellion. However, when we got there, most of the villagers had been murdered ¨C dozens of elders, women, and children ¨C by the other Yhordish platoon that was already staying there.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The knight reels back in shock, having never once heard of such an atrocity committed by the Yhordran forces before. ¡°The rebels were your allies, weren''t they? Why would they do such a thing?¡±

    ¡°Their story was that they had discovered evidence of some western Kuduran Republic spies being harbored in the village, and they tried to root them out, but no matter what they did, no one admitted to it.¡± The irritated ex-soldier''s face twists into a spiteful scowl. ¡°But I didn''t buy that terrible excuse. Most of the bodies we found were mutilated, almost as if done for fun.¡±

    ¡°Were they punished for it?¡± Atticus asks, his eyes narrowed and mouth curved into a repulsed frown. He hopes for a specific answer.

    ¡°I tried to push our commander to charge them with treason, as they slaughtered people who were considered protected allies. But...¡± Veros''s fists angrily clench his horse''s reins and he grits his teeth in frustration. ¡°He only had them stripped of their weapons and sent back to the capital, where they were placed under house arrest for some months before being discharged and sent home.¡±

    Atticus sighs, disappointed and disturbed that he didn''t receive the answer he had hoped for. ¡°What happened to the surviving villagers?¡± He asks, looking for some semblance of a positive outcome.

    ¡°My platoon relocated them to a nearby town, and we returned to bury the dead. It was the most we could do.¡± Veros slumps his shoulders, feeling nothing short of defeated at the fact that no further justice was taken after the atrocity.

    ¡°That''s... very unfortunate.¡± Atticus utters a minimal, somber response.

    ¡°It is.¡± Veros concurs with equal dejection. ¡°Being a part of that conflict was the worst period of my life, and it was an uphill battle to get my life back on the right path after I left the Legion, but I didn''t want the wickedness of others ¨C nor the loss of my brothers ¨C to change who I am, or why I joined the Legion in the first place.¡±

    The knight sympathizes deeply with his comrade. He''s a man who always seems to try and do the right thing whenever he''s able, yet since he touched upon Kudura soil, his altruistic nature seems to have been repaid by an up-close and personal view of humanity''s worst. He''s lost his brothers, his faith in the powers that be, and this has caused a fire of bottled up anger to burn within him, but ultimately, it still hasn''t crushed his sense of selflessness. So as to not possibly come off as condescending, Atticus quietly regards him with utmost respect for his perseverance under such harsh stresses.

    Later, as the Mistwalkers reach the halfway point between Surling and Ervine, the surrounding forest that lines the roadside begins to clear into another open, slightly hilly plain. The brown dirt on the road is a noticeable contrast to the thick grass off of it, which, although its color is partially sapped away due to the grey mist disrupting the natural light, is still noticeably lush. Compared to the first day of the journey, the air is slightly colder due to their northern location. Under normal circumstances, some ponds and the occasional small rock formation protruding from the ground would be visible, but the thick fog prevents nature''s tiny wonders from being seen.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    With only the infrequent run-in with undead villagers causing hiccups on their ride, the group eventually reaches the southern entrance to Ervine, welcomed by a tall wooden sign that hangs over the width of the road, held up by two tall poles at both sides, and bearing the village''s name in big, black letters.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± Veros turns his head around to his team, implicitly asking if they''re ready to proceed with the slow, tedious process of clearing out the area while they search for an adequate building to hole up in.

    ¡°This place is a bit larger than the other villages, isn''t it?¡± Atticus asks. ¡°The map suggested as much.¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± Veros answers with a nod, but isn''t particularly bothered by the fact. ¡°But I don''t think we''ll be using up that much more time than we usually do.¡± He dismounts, ready to begin the usual procedure, with Atticus and Erik following suit.

    Kellar pauses, staring at the sign standing over them, his eyes narrowed. ¡°I feel like I know somethin'' about this place.¡± He utters, quietly racking his mind to remember a crucial detail he feels like he''s forgotten.

    ¡°Kellar?¡± The team leader calls out. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±

    The rogue snaps out of his pensive daze. ¡°Oh... Nah, nothin''.¡± He dismisses the nagging feeling in the back of his head, and dismounts as well.

    With Veros and Atticus at the front and Erik and Kellar at the rear, the band advances through Ervine at a deliberate pace, with the two point men taking the initiative to inspect every building that lines the wide road that connects the southern and northern entrances of the village. As expected, their thorough search leads to several encounters with hostile undead still occupying their homes or wandering the street with no rhyme or reason.

    The only difference they notice when going from one village to the other is a steady increase of items being left behind per home, indicating that the closer villagers were to Armasstadt when the mist appeared, the less likely they had a successful evacuation. Here, in Ervine, there are far more clothes, weapons, and other household items being found, as well as more rotten food sitting on tables or fire pit grates. It''s as if the current condition of the village is a macabre still life portrait of what was happening the moment the miasma came into existence ¨C a stark before and after.

    Soon, the team comes across the first four-way intersection, where they turn to the east and west and see more buildings lining the road in either direction.

    ¡°Should we make a turn?¡± Atticus asks.

    ¡°No, it''s probably best not to.¡± Veros answers. ¡°Ervine actually stretches east and west significantly more than it stretches north and south. If we make a turn, our clearing process will take about three times longer, and that''s if we stay in that direction and don''t even turn around.¡±

    ¡°Ahead!¡± Zyra suddenly calls out, pointing north.

    Veros and Atticus immediately enter a defensive stance, anticipating another advancing hostile. While they do see an approaching figure emerging from the grey curtain, it doesn''t seem to be particularly quick in its advancement. Opting to stay patient, the two warriors on point keep still and wait for the unknown being to walk close enough to make their intentions clear. The mist soon gives way to a heavily decomposed man in a steel helmet and cuirass, which has a long cloth draped over it and secured at his waist with a thin black belt. The decorative quilt is black and bears an insignia that''s only a white hand with the fingers extended and splayed. He also wears plate armor leggings and boots. A longsword is clasped in his right hand, and a kite shield in his left. The Mistwalkers on point furrow their brows, puzzled by the undead''s armor.

    ¡°Oh, shit!¡± Kellar''s panicked voice is heard from behind.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Veros asks without turning around.

    ¡°Now I know why I''ve heard of Ervine before!¡± He exclaims as he stares at the threatening corpse in armor. ¡°This village is where the Hand of Armas is based!¡±

    ¡°And who exactly are they?¡± The veteran asks for more clarification, but accepts the clear implication whatever they are isn''t a good thing.

    ¡°The Hand of Armas is a mercenary company that operates around this side of Yhordran.¡± The rogue explains and points to the undead mercenary''s chest plate. ¡°That''s their sigil ¨C a white handprint on a black background. They''re a small team, but they''re fuckin'' good. And expensive. Or at least they were when they were alive.¡±

    ¡°If one of them is here, then maybe the rest of them are.¡± Veros remarks.

    ¡°Uh, guys?¡± Zyra''s nervous voice is heard once again. ¡°We''re surrounded.¡±

    Breaking their intense focus on the enemy in front of them, Veros and Atticus look down the east, west, and south roads of the intersection, where they spot two more undead members of The Hand of Armas at either side, and one at their back, making for a total of six. The five new appearances also have steel cuirasses, and still sport a cloth draped over them that displays the company''s sigil.

 XXIII. The Hand (Section 3)

    ¡°Think they''re still sapient?¡± Atticus asks without prying his eyes away from their decayed visitors.

    ¡°I doubt it; they''re exuding nothing but ill intent. You take the eastern side.¡± Veros urges to his comrade. ¡°I''ll take this one. Because we have two people dedicated to ranged fighting, a couple of us will have to deal with a bit of a two-on-one."

    ¡°I got it.¡± The knight immediately complies and takes position in front of Zyra''s horse, facing the eastern road, where two of the Hand members are slowly approaching, one wielding a sword and shield, and the other, a spear.

    ¡°Erik.¡± Royd calls out. ¡°Quick, get back on your horse. I''ll take this fellow.¡± Royd dismounts quickly and takes position at the rear of the group, standing his tall shield on the ground and preparing for a fight against the single undead mercenary approaching, which is armed with a sword.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± The archer asks as he reluctantly steps back. ¡°What about your shoulder?¡±

    ¡°I''ll be fine.¡± The brawny man answers confidently. ¡°Concentrate on helping Kellar.¡± Erik follows through with Royd''s command and mounts his horse, facing the western road.

    ¡°Shit.¡± Kellar curses under his breath, taking a protective stance and raising his shield as he stands a safe distance in front of Erik. Two other reanimated swordsmen slowly advance from the west. ¡°Make sure you help take the pressure off of me, you hear?¡± The ex-mercenary calls out to the noble.

    ¡°Don''t worry.¡± Erik responds with little fear in his voice as he nocks an arrow into his bowstring.

    Opting to stay on the defensive, the Mistwalkers remain planted on their current positions and wait for their enemies to approach and make their moves first. Veros, Royd, Atticus, and Kellar try to maintain a deliberate distance from the horses ¨C including Erik and Zyra ¨C to make sure they stay out of harm''s way. Due to the mounted fighters'' slight elevation, they''re hopefully given a slight advantage to assisting their melee companions, particularly the knight and rogue, who are tasked with fighting against two at a time.

    Atticus is the first to initiate a fight, with his foes charging in a single-file line; the one with a shield is in front to protect themselves from oncoming fireballs from Zyra. The knight slowly strafes to the left, trying to lead them to one side of the road so Zyra can have a clean shot.

    ¡°Spherus Infernum!¡± The mage recites, launching a fireball from her open palm. It flashes across the air, and hits the iron shield of the approaching first mercenary, who firmly plants his feet on the ground to withstand the force of the blast.

    Atticus''s first instinct is to step to the shielded undead''s vulnerable right side, but before he can capitalize, the second hostile corpse, armed with the spear, retaliates by covering his companion''s open side by shortly stepping out from the safety of shield cover and following through with a forceful thrust. Luckily, the knight notices in time to deflect the attack, but with limited options in such a short window, he steps to his right and tries a horizontal swipe at neck height, which is obviously met with a successful block by the shielded undead, who follows up with a thrust of his own, which Atticus is also is able to deflect.

    The knight takes a step back and all parties return to defensive stances. Atticus quietly considers potential ways to approach the enemy duo''s thorough defense and quick counters. He has to go too far to the side to deal with the sprearman, which would allow the swordsman a clear line to Zyra, who is essentially defenseless if he manages to rush her. The knight notices that the spearman''s chest is facing his companion''s right, meaning he''s focusing exclusively on protecting the swordsman''s unshielded side. Atticus thinks the best approach is to try and bait an attack out, but due to the swordsman''s dedication to defense unless countering and quick reflexes, the Threcian warrior won''t be able to do such a thing on his own.

    Atticus slowly strafes to his left ¨C his opponents'' right ¨C to make them believe he''s going for a repeat of his previous attack, slightly giving an open shot to Zyra, who understands his intention.

    ¡°Spherus...¡±the pyromancer begins the incantation of a second fireball. The knight halts his gradual strafe, mid-stride. ¡°Infernum!¡± She loudly recites again.

    Reacting instantly to the completed incantation, before the fireball fully conjures and is launched forward, Atticus switches the direction of his movement and takes a a very long, sudden offensive step to his right, completely crossing the trajectory of the oncoming fireball. The undead swordsman is forced to maintain his forward-facing stance, as the flaming orb follows the knight''s feint after a minuscule window of time. The fireball bursts into small explosion as Atticus successfully completes his switch to the opponents'' other side, keeping his own shield up so as to not be affected by his partner''s fiery attack.

    Once the knight''s stride is complete, and the necrotic swordsman''s left side is open due to blocking the fireball coming from his front, the Mistwalker follows up with a thrust of his sword directly into the undead''s neck. The spearman, after trying to switch the direction his body is facing, is unable to protect his teammate, and unleashes a powerful thrust aimed at Atticus''s head. The knight, knowing instinctively that he can''t turn his torso fast enough to block with his shield, instead opts to swing his head further to his right, narrowly escaping a killing blow, but the sharp edge of the spearhead still manages to cut the side of his neck, beneath his jaw.

    Atticus grimaces in pain, immediately feeling the burning sensation of a gash on his neck, but doesn''t waver in his readiness to fight. The undead spearman, now alone, becomes more aggressive, unleashing a flurry of short, quick thrusts that don''t allow the knight any time to retaliate.

    ¡°Spherus Infernum!¡± Zyra''s voice reciting an incantation is heard again.

    Noticing the oncoming attack, the spearman pauses his pressure to take a long step back and narrowly remove himself from the fireball''s trajectory. However, the short window of lessened offense proves to be its downfall, as after the fireball flashes across him, Atticus lunges forward, knocking the spear to the side using his shield, and thrusting the tapered end of his blade into the undead''s neck, killing it.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    After the second corpse falls over, the knight sheathes his sword with a sigh, and places his right hand on the left side of his neck. This irritates his wound, causing him to bring his hand back, and notices a line of fresh blood across his palm and parallel across his fingers.

    Meanwhile, the other Mistwalkers are all handling enemies of their own. Kellar, taking on two undead swordsmen with the assistance of Erik''s consistent barrage of arrows, is unable to initiate any offense of his own due to a lack of experience with a traditional sword and shield pairing of armaments. After finding a moment to breathe, the rogue steps back to adjust himself and reconsider his options.

    ¡°Fuck this.¡± Kellar utters, ultimately deciding that dawdling with weapons he isn''t used to isn''t going to do him any good.

    He drops his sword and shield and unsheathes his pair of double-edged, knuckle guarded daggers, adopting a forward grip for both. Feeling more confident in the fight, he allows the swordsmen to resume their offense, opting to respond with deft dodges and maintaining a safe distance. Erik is unable to line up a clean shot due to the two fighters'' constant side-to-side movement, making it possible to accidentally hit Kellar instead. Thus, he opts helps keep pressure off the rogue by continuing to loose arrows at the remaining foe, forcing them to stay hunched over behind their shield, several feet further back.

    The other reanimated mercenary that Kellar is focused on lunges forward, thrusting their blade out in an attempt to catch the dexterous rogue, who, after waiting for the attack, parries the sword with his left dagger, redirecting it to the right. He steps offensively forward and to his left, retracting his left arm and then stabbing the back of the undead''s right leg, effectively disabling it. The hostile corpse loses its balance and falls onto the injured knee, and the rogue follows through with a stab to the neck with his right dagger. Eliminated, the mercenary falls over.

    The second undead, losing patience against Erik''s arrows, decides to pursue Kellar and tries to catch him with a horizontal slash going from its left to right at chest level. However, being a very telegraphed motion, the rogue ducks and dodges underneath the blade, stepping against the direction of the arc instead of with it or backwards. As he rises again, he stabs his right dagger into the side of the corpse''s neck, but much to his surprise, an arrow pierces the opponent''s forehead at the seemingly exact same instant, and it too falls, hitting the ground with an unceremonious thud.

    ¡°That one counts as mine!¡± Kellar yells at the noble.

    At the southern road of the intersection, Royd is attempting to find an opportunity to strike as well, but his aggressive opponent is proving to be a nuisance ¨C constantly attacking the brawny man while he''s weighed down by heavy equipment and overcoming an injured shoulder. Due to his wound, he can''t stay mobile very long, as the tall shield he has with him is quite heavy and the muscle strain puts pressure on his shoulder. Thus, he opts to slouch over behind its protective cover.

    The oppressive offense of the undead mercenary is starting to make the woodcutter nervous, but he soon realizes that in order to begin his own offense, he''ll likely need to abandon his shield entirely. However, it''s crucial that he only does it at the right moment. In an attempt to gain some space back and reset the positions of himself and his opponent, Royd pushes his massive shield forward immediately after the aggressive corpse swings again, forcing it back with a strong bash, but not strong enough to knock it down.

    The muscular Mistwalker stands sturdily and attentive, waiting for the opportunity to perform a possible plan that can end the fight before he becomes overwhelmed. After a brief respite, the undead warrior takes a step forward, bringing its sword arm back with the intent of swinging again. Noticing this, Royd reacts as quickly as possible by not just lifting his shield, but throwing it entirely, directly at his foe. The mercenary is successfully caught off guard and hesitates to follow through with its attack, deciding instead to lift its own shield, which collides with the the face of the flying hunk of metal.

    Royd''s greatshield falls to the ground, and before the necrotic fighter can regain composure, the woodcutter''s giant axe comes from the side in a horizontal arc, hitting it in the neck with such force that its head is ripped off its shoulders before the blade of the axe even slices through the full diameter of it. The power even knocks the enemy off its feet, sending its lower body to kick up like a nigh-weightless ragdoll.

    With his potentially dangerous plan having succeeded, Royd takes a sigh of relief. ¡°Galliford''s beard...¡± He utters under his breath before wincing at the sting of his injury and trying to alleviate it by placing his right hand on it.

    At the northern road of the intersection, Veros and the undead swordman he''s facing seem to be at odds. They exchange blocked blows, slashes, and lunges with each other consistently, showing little sign of dwindling performance. The veteran quietly wonders if he''s fighting too predictably, but then realizes that perhaps being predictable is something he can use to his advantage.

    Veros takes a step back to stand at the very edge of his opponent''s reach, hoping to force it to resort to thrusts instead of the swings. Luckily, the decomposed mercenary unknowingly complies, and Veros redirects the attack to his left and responds with a thrust of his own ¨C though a deliberately easy one for his foe to deflect as well. He quickly regains composure and maintains the distance again. Once more, he waits for a thrust, deflects it to his left, and retaliates with his own, which is also deflected in turn. He repeats this process one more time afterward, and yet again steps back to stay just out of reach of the undead mercenary''s sword.

    The veteran stays patient, and waits for one more thrust. After a brief moment, his enemy brings its left foot forward and gives it to him. However, this time Veros counters differently. He redirects the unknown swordsman''s attack to his right this time, and steps to the left while spinning his body clockwise, swinging his sword arm around in a nearly full circle to gain momentum. The cadaver can''t respond in time before Veros completes his spin and slices the back of the enemy''s neck with enough force to almost totally behead it in one fluid motion.

    The undead''s head swings from the string of flesh still keeping it connected to its shoulders before peeling off and hitting the ground with a roll, and its body falls over with an audible clank of its armor. Thus, the six reanimated members of The Hand of Armas are defeated. Veros takes a deep breath and sheathes his sword, quietly wondering if the mercenaries were even better at fighting when they were still truly alive. He turns around with the intention of continuing the search for a building that the group can stay at for the night, but he notices Zyra dismount and run into the eastern road.

    ¡°Atticus!¡± The mage yells, approaching the knight, who is kneeling and clutching the deep cut on his neck.

    ¡°What''s wrong?!¡± Veros asks, following her.

    ¡°He got cut on the neck.¡± She answers, kneeling next to the wounded warrior.

    ¡°Let me see.¡± The team leader bends over and gently peels the knight''s hand off of his own neck to check the severity of the cut. It''s not a mortal wound, thankfully, but the blood is dripping at a high rate and dyeing the base of his neck and part of his shoulder red. ¡°It won''t kill you, but we should get you cleaned up as soon as we can. Come on. Keep pressure on it.¡±

    Veros assists Atticus to his feet, guides him back to his horse, and helps him mount. The group resumes looking for a place to hole up in for the remainder of the day.

 XXIV. The Last Night (Section 1)

    Immediately following the small battle with the undead members of the mercenary band, The Hand of Armas, the Mistwalkers are continuing the search for a building rest of the night, but the situation has become urgent due to Atticus suffering a cut to the neck. Fortunately, it''s not deep enough to kill him, but he''s bleeding at a somewhat high rate. Due to his mild incapacitation, he''s back on his horse for the duration of the search.

    ¡°Kellar.¡± Veros calls out from the front of the party. ¡°Do you know how many members there are in The Hand of Armas?¡± He asks, hoping to not encounter any more.

    ¡°I don''t, sadly.¡± Kellar answers, following with a small sigh. ¡°I do know that they''re not very big ¨C pretty damn small, in fact. Wouldn''t be surprised if those six were the only members. Even if they''re not, there can''t be more than a few left.¡±

    ¡°If they''re based here, then that means their headquarters should be here, too.¡± The veteran thinks aloud. ¡°That would be the perfect place to stay for the night, I''m sure.¡±

    They continue north, sticking to the main road that cuts through Ervine. Some minutes later, the group comes across a two-story, inn-like structure, with a wooden sign in front of the short staircase leading up to the front door: covered in black paint, except for a white handprint in the center. No words are present on it.

    ¡°Oh, shit.¡± Kellar exclaims. ¡°Here it is. It''s alongside the main road leadin'' to Armasstadt. Guess that makes sense.¡±

    ¡°Let''s take point.¡± Veros responds, readying his sword and shield and approaching the wooden steps that lead to the front door. Kellar follows, taking his own sword and shield, too. The others are left to wait for the results of their inspection, with Atticus clasping his neck, and Zyra worryingly watching him as blood slowly seeps between his fingers. Royd takes the opportunity to quickly secure the immediate vicinity and starts riding around the perimeter of the building.

    The team leader is first through the door, greeted by an interior reminiscent to taverns, but with a second floor of several rooms. The first floor is clear, containing only tables, chairs, stools, a fire pit, casks of aged drinks, and rotten food that''s decayed nearly into dust. The two men walk past the furniture and cautiously approach the stairs near the bar counter leading to the second floor. When they reach the top, they enter a hallway that leads to six rooms ¨C four along the western side of the building, their doors facing away from the street, and two on the eastern side, sandwiching the top of the staircase. Starting from the room that''s to the left of the top of the stairs, they''re numbered in order, going clockwise.

    Veros and Kellar look through each one, confirming that they''re filled with various gear belonging to the past members of the company, plus dust and unkempt beds that haven''t been used in months. With the knowledge that the building is indeed safe, the men return outside.

    ¡°It''s safe.¡± Veros announces. ¡°I''ll take Atticus in and tend to his injury.¡±

    ¡°There''re stables behind the building.¡± Royd comments. ¡°We''ll take your horses back there.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± The team leader expresses his gratitude as he grabs his bag of medical supplies and helps Atticus dismount from his horse.

    The two men enter the headquarters while the others take their horses to the stalls behind the building. Inside, Atticus is quick to take a seat and get off his feet.

    ¡°Take off your armor.¡± Veros commands as he lays out the supplies on the nearest table.

    The knight complies and slowly sheds his cuirass and gauntlets, making sure to not irritate his injury further in the process. The snug wool shirt he had been wearing under his armor is stained, as well as the skin on his neck and shoulder. With a small cloth in hand, Veros gently pushes the knight''s head to the right to clearly examine the cut. He wipes away to blood to check the condition of the skin.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°It''s a surprisingly clean cut.¡± The veteran remarks. ¡°No jagged, torn skin. I don''t think you''ll need stitches for this.¡± He grabs and uncorks the bottle of disinfectant. ¡°This''ll sting for a bit.¡±

    He brings the small bottle up to the cut, and slowly pours the clear, burning liquid onto it. Atticus doesn''t groan, but he does furrow his brow in reaction. Veros lets the disinfectant set for a moment before wiping the few emerging drops of blood.

    ¡°Bleeding''s already showing signs of slowing down.¡± He comments. ¡°I''ll just seal the cut with some adhesive.¡±

    Veros takes a second bottle, uncorks it, and slowly pours a tiny, pea-sized amount of the thick, viscous fluid with an almost honey-like consistency onto the tip of his middle finger, and begins to spread it over the entire area of Atticus''s cut. The feeling of the substance being rubbed on the wound somewhat irritates it at first, but the process is finished before it becomes annoying.

    ¡°There.¡± The veteran announces the completion of his treatment. ¡°That should be enough. Try not to stretch your neck or you might reopen it.¡±

    He corks the bottles of disinfectant and adhesive and places them back in his bag of medical items. The other four Mistwalkers enter the building after bringing the horses to the stalls in the backyard. Zyra is the first to rush in, making a bee line to Atticus to bend over and examine his neck.

    ¡°So was it bad?¡± The mage asks before even noticing that the cut has been cleaned and sealed already.

    ¡°No, it wasn''t.¡± Atticus answers, with a half-smile, amused at her frantic behavior. ¡°I won''t even need stitches.¡±

    Royd scoffs. ¡°Well, aren''t you lucky?¡± He asks facetiously.

    ¡°Other than that cut, did you have much trouble with those undead sellswords?¡± Veros asks as he sits in a nearby stool.

    ¡°A little.¡± Atticus confesses after a small sigh. ¡°They were shockingly coordinated for a pair of walking corpses. They knew exactly how to cover each other''s weaknesses.¡± He glances up at Zyra. ¡°I would''ve had a much harder time if it weren''t for Zyra''s assistance.¡±

    The pyromancer smiles bashfully, but quickly tries to hide her embarrassment. ¡°You almost got hit by my fireball, you know.¡± She feigns a complaint, referring to the risky maneuver he pulled to attack one of his enemy''s vulnerable sides while it blocked Zyra''s spells.

    ¡°Are these casks still full, you think?¡± Royd chimes in, approaching the wooden barrels behind the bar counter. His face is brimming with curiosity about the consumability of whatever''s inside them.

    ¡°Well, I don''t think anyone''s been around to drink from ''em.¡± Kellar responds, walking up to the kegs, as well. He grabs a stein from a shelf underneath the countertop and wipes the interior of it with the fabric of his cotton undershirt. ¡°Let''s try it out.¡±

    He holds the large mug underneath the tap of one of the barrels and twists it open. Ale begins to pour out. It still maintains a healthy amber color, and golden foam begins to collect at the surface. When the stein is full, Kellar holds it under his nose.

    ¡°Smells fine.¡± The rogue notices, and presses the rim of the stein to his lips and slowly tips it up. He drinks a tiny thimble-full of the brew and smacks his lips. After a moment of savoring, he looks at his brawny comrade and shrugs. ¡°Tastes fine, too.¡±

    Curious of the other barrels, Royd grabs a stein of his own, wipes it to get rid of any dust inside, and places it underneath the tap of the next keg, and twists it. This time, a dark purple liquid pours out.

    ¡°Oh, this one seems to be wine.¡± Royd announces. He continues to let the liquid fill the mug about three-quarters before closing the tap. As Kellar did, he smells the wine and slowly takes a meager sip. ¡°This tastes fine, as well.¡± The woodcutter confirms.

    ¡°Don''t guzzle that stuff down just yet.¡± Veros interrupts them. ¡°You''ll dehydrate yourselves. Check if one of those barrels has water in them first, just in case.¡±

    While paying to mind to making any mess, Royd reaches to the next tap and turns it. A very light amber liquid comes out. ¡°That one looks like mead.¡± He says, closing the tap. He reaches to the fourth one and turns it slightly. A transparent liquid drips out. ¡°Oh, this might be it.¡± He comments, putting his free hand under the tap, letting the fluid collect in his cupped palm. After a tiny puddle is created, he brings his hand to his mouth and drinks it. ¡°Yup, this one''s water.¡± He announces.

    ¡°Well, in that case, give me a mug of mead, then.¡± Veros retracts his authoritative tone and loosens up.

    ¡°Sure thing.¡± Kellar answers, prepping another drink. ¡°Anyone else want something?¡± He asks no one in particular.

    ¡°I''ll take a cup of wine.¡± Erik answers.

    ¡°Some ale.¡± Atticus responds.

    ¡°I''ll take mead.¡± Zyra replies.

    ¡°Two meads, wine, and ale, coming right up!¡± Royd announces as he and Kellar eagerly begin to grab additional steins, wipe them, and fill them with drinks to serve their teammates.

 XXIV. The Last Night (Section 2)

    Some time later, after the Mistwalkers have begun to down their beers and wine along with their tiny dinners consisting of their dwindling provisions, they''ve shed their armor and equipment and begun to huddle around a lively fire that''s lit inside the fire pit opposite the collection of tables in front of the bar counter. Their attitudes have become more loosened and merry now that their senses have been slightly dulled by the alcoholic beverages.

    ¡°I''m telling you,¡± Royd speaks, already in the middle of a discussion, ¡°my wife just doesn''t understand the importance of a little bit of pink in the meat. I keep telling her it adds a natural flavor and moistness to the meat, but she just doesn''t want it!¡± He throws his hands up in an exaggerated shrug.

    ¡°Is she afraid of blood?¡± Zyra asks innocently before taking another meager sip of her mead.

    ¡°She is, actually.¡± Royd concedes. ¡°But I don''t know how that stops her from just keeping the meat a little bit rare. Every time she''s the one cooking, we''re practically served leather for dinner. Other than that, she''s a fantastic cook. She bakes an amazing blueberry pie.¡±

    ¡°Man, a nice pie sounds fuckin'' delicious right now.¡± Kellar comments, closing his eyes to fantasize of the dessert. ¡°Meat, too. I''m so damn tired to eatin'' these fruits, and they''re not even fresh off the tree, either.¡± He gripes before taking a hesitant bite of an apple.

    ¡°How about you, Veros?¡± The brawny man asks. ¡°You have a woman back in Evatica? You''ve never mentioned one before.¡±

    The veteran narrows his eyes, hesitant to comment. ¡°Somewhat.¡± He says, reflecting on his relationship status. ¡°My relationship with her is a little bit... tumultuous.¡±

    ¡°Well, that sounds intriguing.¡± Kellar remarks while stroking the whiskers on his chin. ¡°Care to give some details? What''s shaky about it?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± Veros hows a tiny hint of nervousness ¨C a rare sight. ¡°She and I have conflicting viewpoints on how to continue our relationship.¡±

    ¡°What, are you afraid of tying the knot or something?¡±

    ¡°No, I''m...¡± The veteran sighs, realizing he''s going to need to be more blunt about the point of contention in his relationship if he''s to have a transparent conversation about it with his comrades. ¡°We''ve been together for some time now ¨C almost six years, in fact. I''m fine with marriage. I have no issues taking vows and sticking with them. The problem is...¡± He stares at the fire for a pause, but it seems as though his blank gaze goes through it entirely. ¡°She wants children, but I don''t. For reasons you can probably guess.¡±

    ¡°Something to do with the loss of your brothers, I imagine?¡± Royd, the only father in the group, asks for clarification.

    ¡°Mostly, yes. But the Kudura war in general has left me with a desire to simply... refuse the notion of continuing my bloodline.¡±

    ¡°Why''s that, friend?¡±

    ¡°Even though I still find fulfillment in helping others, I can''t help but feel only the deepest cynicism about the world and the people living in it. I''ve seen too many horrific things done by humans to wish to bring more into this world. Does that seem like... paranoia or something to you?¡± Veros asks, his eyes begging for some sort of validation of his worries, or at least the tiniest bit of understanding.

    ¡°Well, I don''t think your fears are... nonsensical, necessarily.¡± Royd straightens his back and start to caress his beard pensively. ¡°I understand that your terrible experiences in the war must have painted a very dark, dreary picture of your fellow man. And it''s true that you can never know how such things will affect your children once they''re born.¡±

    ¡°You two are parents, or are going to be.¡± Veros comments, referring to both Royd and Kellar. ¡°Tell me: what motivated you to have children?¡±

    Royd and Kellar, the father and soon-to-be-father, respectively, turn and glance at each other with uncertain expressions. They both take a moment to ponder their response, wanting to pick their words carefully, because they wouldn''t want to scare Veros away from the idea further, but also don''t want to try and pressure him into it.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Well,¡± the bald rogue answers first, ¡°judgin'' by my own experiences with other people, I probably should be on board with the same ship of thought you have. But, I guess the big thing that''s kept me open to the idea of havin'' kids is the fact that I just wanna give myself the opportunity to give a child the life I didn''t have for myself. As I mentioned before, the reason I''m here to begin with was to try and find loot to sell in order for my wife and I can keep our house in the nice part of the city. If I couldn''t keep that house, I wouldn''t want to have a child. And this isn''t limited to just my kids, per se. Chelsea and I are willing to adopt, too; we''ve discussed it ¨C getting kids off the streets in the slums.¡±

    ¡°For me,¡± Royd begins his own answer, ¡°I thought it was simply the next step in our relationship. Keep in mind, I was still an adolescent when my daughter was born, so this may come off as naive or idealistic, but Fia and I were ¨C and still are ¨C so terribly in love, we thought having a child would be a physical symbol of those feelings ¨C our feelings, for each other. We didn''t think about the world, because the world wasn''t part of our relationship, if that makes sense.¡±

    ¡°I think I understand what you mean.¡± Veros readily accepts both answers with a melancholic nod. ¡°It''s true that if I had to raise a child, I''d want to give them a life that was better than mine, and it''s true that our relationship is simply between the two of us, and not the entire world. But...¡± He shakes his head lightly. ¡°That tiny bit of uncertainty makes me deeply uncomfortable.¡±

    ¡°For what it''s worth, your fears aren''t unfounded.¡± Royd says in a reassuring, unwavering tone. ¡°Take it from me; as a father, I wish almost every damn day that I had the ability to see the future. It would''ve saved me a lot of headache while raising little Rebecka.¡±

    ¡°I''m not gonna pretend I don''t have worries of my own.¡± Kellar adds. ¡°But my fears aren''t as important as my desire to give my kid a better life than I had.¡± He announces with such confidence, you wouldn''t think he had spent the majority of this journey complaining and wanting to turn around.

    ¡°I appreciate your answers, both of you. It''ll give me a lot to think about.¡± Veros says with a small, grateful smile.

    Kellar waves his hand, as if to insist it was a simple courtesy not worthy of thanks. ¡°No problem. Now, back onto our original topic...¡± The ex-mercenary looks over to Erik and decides to bring to conversation over to the usually quiet archer. ¡°So, noble,¡± he calls out, ¡°how about you? You have someone waitin'' for you at home, keepin'' your bed warm in anticipation of your return?¡±

    Erik takes a deep, contemplative inhale. ¡°Not necessarily.¡± He says as he lets his breath out. ¡°As I''ve mentioned before, I usually keep to myself. I don''t have many opportunities to talk to other people. Even at my archery competitions, I tend to mind my own business.¡±

    ¡°Seriously?¡± Kellar narrows his eyes and reels back a bit, disappointed by such an answer. ¡°You''re of noble birth. Surely, your parents much throw parties or balls or whatever that you''re obligated to attend. Haven''t you seen anyone there?¡±

    ¡°Well, a couple years ago, I did meet someone at one of those parties.¡± Erik recalls, but keeps the details vague.

    Kellar leans forward, showing interest. ¡°Oh? What was she like?¡±

    The archer heaves a small sigh. ¡°He was the son of one of my father''s landlord friends.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± The rogue lifts his brow, surprised. ¡°I didn''t strike you as the type who preferred the company of men, but I can appreciate surprises.¡±

    ¡°No, no...¡± Erik shakes his head. ¡°I do like women, too. He was just the one who approached me first. We had a short relationship, and eventually we went our separate ways.¡±

    Kellar lifts his arms, expecting more than what was said. ¡°What, that''s it? How''d you split up?¡±

    ¡°He was four years older than me, and was getting pressured by his parents to start a family.¡± The noble admits bluntly, but with a subtle expression of regret washing over his face. ¡°He actually had a fiancee while we were together.¡±

    ¡°Well, that''s messy.¡± The rogue comments, feeling sympathetic. ¡°Did she ever find out?¡±

    ¡°No, she didn''t.¡± Erik answers honestly. ¡°It was a complicated situation, so I can''t say I miss it much. But I did like him. He''s still together with his now-wife, and they seem happy. So, in a way, things worked out for everyone.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Royd suddenly joins in on the discussion. ¡°You seem a little disappointed.¡± He astutely guesses.

    ¡°A drawback to being as quiet as I am,¡± the noble responds, ¡°is that sometimes you develop the bad habit of waiting for things to happen to you, instead of making things happen.¡± He guiltily admits to one of his greatest faults, or at least what he perceives to be one. ¡°I don''t really take the initiative when I''m interested in someone, and I end up letting my chances pass me by. Honestly, I can see why my father feels as though I lack ambition because of this attitude of mine. It''s why I never really argued with him over it.¡±

    ¡°Well, if we manage to quell the mist and make it back home, you''ll be a new man.¡± Royd tries to give some reassurance.

    Erik nods somberly. ¡°I hope so.¡±

 XXIV. The Last Night (Section 3)

    ¡°So...¡± Kellar turns to Atticus after taking another swig of his ale. ¡°How about you, knight? You''re from Threcia, as we know, but did you have a woman there at some point?¡±

    For a moment, Atticus can only reply with a stone-faced, blank stare. Zyra, who''s sitting next to him, looks up with silent, wide-eyed worry, anticipating some sort of unfavorable response ¨C possibly one that sweeps the discussion to the side. The knight takes another sip of his own ale, and speaks.

    ¡°I did.¡± He answers honestly. ¡°About a year and a half ago. She passed away due to disease.¡± Shockingly blunt, his reply catches everyone except Zyra off guard, who is instead surprised at the fact he revealed such a personal aspect of his past so easily.

    ¡°Oh, damn.¡± Kellar winces from the news. ¡°Sorry to hear that, friend. I had no idea.¡±

    Atticus timidly shakes his head. ¡°It''s okay. It took some time, but... I think I''m finally starting to move past it, at least a little bit. I spent a long while blaming myself for not being able to save her, and it ate at me. It wasn''t necessarily my responsibility to do it, but of course I tried anyway, and... I was unable to.¡± He pushes out a tiny sigh as he gazes at the small fire in the pit before him. ¡°Being exhausted all the time was... well, exhausting. I felt sluggish; I felt like I was always tired, no matter how much I slept. During the worst of it, I would barely eat for days on end.¡±

    ¡°Living under the weight of guilt over not being able to stop something that was out of your control is no way to live at all.¡± Veros interjects with his own bit of wisdom, as it''s a topic that he''s very familiar with. ¡°It took many months for me to figure that out, as well. It was hard to find someone to reasonably blame after the loss of my brothers, so I ended up blaming myself, even more than I blamed the crown.¡±

    Atticus nods. ¡°Exactly.¡± He says, relieved to hear the input of someone who''s also experienced grave loss. ¡°Plus, knowing her, she wouldn''t have wanted me to blame myself like that, anyway.¡±

    ¡°What was she like?¡± Kellar asks, immediately putting his hands up afterward to surrender the topic. ¡°I mean, you know, if you don''t mind me askin''.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine.¡± The knight replies, taking a deep breath to begin his reminiscence. ¡°I met her back when I started to attend the pyromancy school as a boy. She had been there for some time before me, but she was a little slow to pick it up due to being prone to sickness sometimes, and it would interfere with her studies. But when she wasn''t bedridden, she was quite hyperactive.¡±

    ¡°You knew each other as children, huh?¡± Veros asks. ¡°You must''ve been very close.¡±

    ¡°We were.¡± Atticus quickly confirms. ¡°She grew into such a beautiful young woman, and still maintained her determined spirit despite still being sickly on a regular basis. But then one time, she went to bed, and just... stayed there until she passed.¡± He sullenly recounts the beginnings of the disease that took Isabelle''s life.

    ¡°What was her name?¡± Veros delicately inquires.

    ¡°Isabelle Wallenstein.¡± The knight answers.

    ¡°Wallenstein?¡± The veteran repeats, perplexed. ¡°I feel like I heard that name before.¡±

    ¡°You probably heard it in passing while you were in Kudura.¡± Atticus responds, assisting with his comrade''s memory. ¡°Wallenstein is the the name of Threcia''s royal family.¡±

    Veros furrows his brow and leans forward intently. ¡°If you don''t mind me asking, what exactly was her position within the royal family?¡± He asks as gently as he can without seeming particularly nosy.

    ¡°She was the king''s niece.¡± Atticus answers with no hesitation.

    The other five Mistwalkers fall silent, especially Zyra, who becomes gobsmacked. A deafening silence envelops them for an extended moment as they slowly try to find their tongues again.

    ¡°You... were in a relationship with the king of Threcia''s niece?¡± Veros repeats, not just for his own understanding, but for the understanding of everyone huddled around the fire pit.

    Atticus nods. ¡°Yes.¡± He delivers confirmation so straightforwardly, it almost seems like a joke.

    ¡°Man...¡± Kellar utters. ¡°I''ve heard a lot of surprising things since we walked into this damned mist, but that''s pretty far up there.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it makes sense.¡± Royd thinks aloud. ¡°You met in pyromancy school, and then became a royal guard, which allowed you to be around her more often in the castle, right?¡±

    ¡°More or less.¡± The knight answers.

    ¡°Either way,¡± Veros interjects to try and delicately get the discussion back on the intial topic, ¡°it''s good that you''ve begun to overcome your guilt and start to move on. It''s extremely hard to do, but life gets better once you do it.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    Atticus''s lips curve upward into a small, humble smile. ¡°Someone once told me that the further you fall, the higher you can stand after.¡± Zyra, who is still listening, smiles bashfully and brings her cup of mead up to her mouth to cover her face.

    ¡°And you, Zyra?¡± Kellar directs the continuing discussion to the young mage who had been mostly minding her own business up until this point. ¡°You''re still young; I''m sure you''ve been beatin'' back the boys with a stick.¡±

    ¡°Hey now!¡± Royd interrupts. ¡°She''s a young lady, show some tact.¡±

    ¡°Oh, give me a break.¡± The rogue responds with a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°She''s an adult, and she can talk about such things with other adults. Who cares?¡±

    ¡°Uh, it''s fine.¡± Zyra replies, though her fidgety posture would suggest otherwise. ¡°I''m not offended or anything. It''s not like it''s a touchy subject for me. I, uh, used to be very tomboyish until somewhat recently. I grew up helping my father run his textiles shop, so I was very hands-on with things throughout my childhood.¡±

    ¡°I can''t quite put my finger on how, but you do kind of strike me as someone who was probably rambunctious as a child.¡± Veros teasingly surmises.

    ¡°I don''t think I was that bad.¡± The mage staunchly insists. ¡°But yeah, generally, I was quite a roughhouser, and rarely played with other girls in my neighborhood. Because of that, I don''t think I really I developed an interest in boys until rather late.¡± She admits with growing bashfulness.

    ¡°A late bloomer, huh?¡± Kellar nods with eyes filled with sympathy. ¡°I empathize, girl. I truly do. So what happened after that?¡±

    ¡°Well, I slowly became a bit more reserved. I stopped being so boisterous with friends and neighbors, but I did stay active thanks to my usual chores around the shop.¡±

    ¡°I have a question.¡± Royd interrupts with a modest raise of his hand. ¡°How did you decide to become a mage? If you were so interested in physical activity, why not become a shield-maiden or join a guild?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± she leans her head back to recall the moment she made the life-changing choice, ¡°several years ago, my father was hired to prepare a huge shipment of fabric to send to the university so they can sew more robes and capes from students. I accompanied him in the delivery of it, and as we walked through the campus area, I saw different classes of mages practicing their spells.¡± Her eyes practically glow with interest as she continues to remember her first encounter with the arcane. ¡°I saw electromancers create sparks from their fingertips, aeromancers create small tornadoes in the outdoor training grounds, and my favorite ¨C pyromancers who caused practice dummies to explode in fiery chaos.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you''re still a tomboy, alright.¡± Kellar teases as he brings his stein down from his lips after a sip of ale. ¡°Fascinated with explosions and such... Sounds like you stopped being rowdy physically because you discovered you could be rowdy magically instead.¡±

    ¡°I suppose.¡± Zyra accepts the lighthearted jape in stride with a bashful smile. ¡°I guess becoming a mage because it looked impressive isn''t a very interesting reason, but I still remain quite serious about it. I don''t want to give it up. If I did, then I wouldn''t be here as a way to improve myself ¨C I would''ve left after nearly failing my first year.¡±

    ¡°Coming the terms with the fact that you''re mediocre is the first ¨C and hardest ¨C step towards working to becoming better at something.¡± Veros relays a harsh truth, but with encouraging intent.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± The young mage nods with a somber expression. ¡°For the longest time, I didn''t know if I was improving or not. In fact, I still didn''t until I decided to come here with everyone. I felt like I always tripped over myself whenever I attempted to take the next step.¡±

    ¡°It''s hard to notice how far you''ve traveled when you''re too busy looking at your own feet instead of looking forward. Progress seems minuscule when you''re burdened with such tunnel vision. But everyone has to start somewhere. Even the university''s Grandmasters probably struggled with their studies at first.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes I feel jealous of other students who just seem to be born with a natural talent for it.¡± Zyra admits while looking down into her nearly empty mug of mead. ¡°It''s hard to not compare myself to them, especially when some of them are in my class.¡±

    ¡°Even if you might lack natural talent, you still have access to the next best thing: hard work.¡± Veros reassures the arcane pupil. ¡°But hard work isn''t something that''s given to you, it''s an opportunity that you must choose to take. You can''t reach your potential by just sitting on your hands.¡±

    ¡°You might not be as good as the people who have both natural talent and hard work.¡± Kellar throws a wet rag on the topic with a sudden statement loaded with cynicism. ¡°But you''ll definitely be better than the people with neither, and maybe some of the people with just one of those things.¡± He punctuates his remark with another sip of his ale.

    ¡°Well, that all depends on the individual''s personal limits.¡± Veros tries to bring the discussion back into a more positive light. ¡°Some people may have natural talent to guide them at first, but they may ultimately still have a shorter ceiling than others once they hit a certain point in the learning process.¡±

    ¡°So, you''re the type of person who believes everyone has different limits, huh?¡± Kellar replies to Veros''s sentiment with surprise. ¡°I pinned you for the type who''d say ''everyone''s capable of being the best at everything'' shite.¡±

    ¡°Well, I''ve seen enough in my time in the Legion to believe it. There are plenty of soldiers who grasp the basics of swordsmanship with immediacy, managing to become a good fighter quickly, yet fail to cross over into being a great one, no matter how much they practice. Regardless, they made it further than they would have if they had quit half-way, which is the point I''m trying to make.¡±

    ¡°Now I''m just going to worry about how low my ceiling is!¡± Zyra, half-jokingly, responds pessimistically. ¡°But I appreciate your advice, anyway. You''ve given me a lot to think about.¡± Her gaze falls to the flame dancing in the fire pit, and a slightly melancholic expression washes over her face. ¡°I hope I can maintain the new sense of focus I''ve gained once I return to the university... if I return.¡±

    A somber silence blankets the group. The sudden realization that they''re approaching the end of their journey sobers them up a bit, as they become quietly unsettled by the possibilities of what could await them at their destination. Kellar leans back in his seat to peer out of the nearest window, where he sees only the impenetrable blackness of night.

 XXIV. The Last Night (Section 4)

    ¡°This is it, huh?¡± The rogue remarks before turning back towards the fire. ¡°Tomorrow night, we make our way to Armasstadt. We''re about to do what thousands have failed at ¨C assuming they truly attempted to make it this far ¨C but...¡± He narrows his eyes as he tries to quietly grab at the right words to couple with his feelings. ¡°But it doesn''t feel like we''re any closer to success. Why is that, you think?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps it''s because of a lack of festivity.¡± Royd answers. ¡°No one besides us knows that we''re out this far to begin with. As far anyone else knows, we might have died days ago.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, we still might.¡± Veros remarks. ¡°Just because we''re closer to our destination than we''ve ever been doesn''t mean that we''re safe. If anything, this last stretch of our journey could be the most dangerous part. We don''t know.¡±

    ¡°If we are the ones who destroy the source of the mist,¡± Zyra asks, ¡°do you think it''s because we were destined to do it? Could it have happened if it were anyone else?¡±

    ¡°That''s...¡± The veteran shakes his head, unsure of how to even approach that train of thought. ¡°I don''t think that''s something we could ever truly know. Maybe it could''ve been all luck. Maybe another group of six equally competent people could''ve indeed done it if they had just traveled at the times we did, and took the same roads, stopped at the same checkpoints ¨C all of that. Maybe we narrowly escaped certain death in some ways that we aren''t aware of. Who knows what sort of small decision could''ve been made to prevent us from getting as far as we did?¡±

    ¡°If there is a specific person or group of people who are ''destined'' to get rid of the mist,¡± Kellar speaks up, ¡°and we''re not them, then wouldn''t that suggest we''re walkin'' directly into unavoidable failure? But if we are them, then we''re walkin'' into guaranteed success.¡±

    ¡°I don''t know if such a thought would make me feel better or not.¡± Atticus interjects. ¡°The idea that quelling the mist is a destined act meant for a specific person means success or failure is a fifty-fifty chance. But would a fifty percent chance at success be higher or lower than whatever the chances are if it''s not a destined act?¡±

    ¡°Maybe we''ll know when we get there.¡± Veros responds pragmatically.

    ¡°One thing''s for sure,¡± Kellar adds, ¡°if I were to find that we are somehow ''destined'' to remove the mist, then I''d be fuckin'' pissed that we didn''t do it sooner.¡±

    ¡°But maybe we''re fated to only do it this specific amount of time after it appeared.¡± Royd remarks. ¡°If we had done it earlier, maybe we''d fail.¡±

    The ex-mercenary heaves a drawn-out sigh. ¡°Destiny or fate or whatever is such a load of shite.¡± He stands up and arches his back and extends his arms to stretch. ¡°We''ll fuckin'' go up there tomorrow and do what we want, anyway. But as for right this moment, I want to sleep.¡±

    ¡°What are the rooms like, anyway?¡± Royd asks.

    ¡°They''re all pretty much the same.¡± Veros answers. ¡°Same size, same beds. You can just pick one.¡±

    ¡°That''s a relief.¡± The woodcutter stands and stretches, as well. ¡°I''ve grown too used to that bedroll. I''m glad the final night of our journey can be spent in real beds. Good night!¡± Royd and Kellar retire for the night and head to the second floor to pick out their rooms and sleep.

    ¡°Sleep does sound like a good idea at the moment.¡± Atticus comments. ¡°Drinking ale after a somewhat significant amount of blood loss was probably not a very smart idea.¡± He admits as he stands up with a noticeable lack of balance and sturdiness.

    Zyra uses her hand to help him stand straight. ¡°Are you okay? I''ll go with you.¡± She stands as well, ready to accompany him upstairs.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± The knight utters. He and the mage are the next to call it a night and proceed to bed, with Zyra propping him up as they ascend the steps. Veros and Erik are the last two sitting around the fire.

    ¡°You know,¡± the veteran speaks up, ¡°when we first came together, before meeting Atticus, I had assumed you''d probably try and move in on Zyra ¨C take advantage of your noble status.¡±

    ¡°Did you think I was quiet to try and look suave or something?¡± Erik asks as a self-deprecating smile crosses his face. ¡°Hate to break it to you, but I''m not charismatic in the slightest. My silence in the first couple days of our journey was half my usual introversion, and half anxiety.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Sorry for making assumptions.¡±

    The archer shakes his head. ¡°It''s alright. I don''t blame you. Anyone would expect a young man from old money to be more outgoing.¡±

    ¡°Well, at least you''re not at the age where you''re beating yourself up over not having children yet.¡± Veros replies with a defeated sigh. ¡°It''s truly an odd predicament I''ve found myself in.¡±

    ¡°How''s your relationship with your woman? Other than any quarrels about children, I mean.¡±

    ¡°Perfectly fine, really.¡± The veteran answers with a small shrug. ¡°As I mentioned, I have no problem with a idea of marriage, and for a while, I''ve been seriously considering taking that step.¡±

    ¡°And you''re not now?¡±

    ¡°The topic of children is a very important one for us. If I can''t find a way to remedy our current issues, then...¡± Veros pauses to somberly shake his head at the fading flame in the pit. ¡°We might have to go our separate ways.¡±

    ¡°That''s unfortunate, but it''s a disagreement that can''t be taken lightly and just ignored, I suppose.¡± Erik gives an honest comment as delicately as he can.

    ¡°Indeed. Perhaps I''ll come around to the idea sooner than later. I do like children. I just never really entertained the thought of having my own. I wouldn''t want us to split up over this.¡±

    ¡°There''s a lot of reasons for relationships to end, and there''s not many that can be clearly defined as ''good'' or ''bad'' reasons. I would know.¡± The noble laments, referring to the short-lived relationship he discussed earlier. With that comment, he stands up and stretches his arms. ¡°I think I''ll call it here, as well.¡±

    ¡°I''ll stay up for a little while longer ¨C watch the fire fade a bit.¡± Veros replies, staring at the dimming flame that dances at the tiniest disturbance in the air.

    ¡°Alright. Good night.¡± Erik starts to approach the staircase, but stops at the first step to turn and make a final statement. ¡°By the way, while she''s a very pretty young woman, I didn''t have any intention of chatting up Zyra. Ironically, Atticus is more my type.¡±

    Veros smiles. ¡°You said you''re still interested in women, but I''m starting to think that was a fib.¡±

    ¡°It''s not a fib. I just happen to be more picky about women than I am with men.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. Have a good night.¡±

    Erik continues to the second floor, where he looks for a room to stay in. From the top of the stairs, he sees two closed doors to the left ¨C rooms 1 and 2 ¨C and one to the right ¨C room 5 ¨C across the hall, suggesting three rooms are occupied despite four people walking upstairs before him. Thinking nothing of it, he claims one of the vacant ones.

    In room 5, Atticus and Zyra are lying next to each other, with the mage pressed up against the knight''s left side. His eyes are closed, but he isn''t yet asleep. Zyra can''t help but stare at the reddened skin on his neck, barely visible under the limited moonlight coming from the window above the head of the bed.

    ¡°Does your cut still hurt?¡± She asks, gently and slowly brushing the tip of her finger against the slightly tender area.

    ¡°Not really.¡± Atticus answers without opening his eyes. ¡°The ale probably dimmed my senses though. Just don''t reopen it and get covered in my blood.¡±

    ¡°You''re not a heavy drinker, are you?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly. But I''m not a very rowdy drunk to begin with. If anything, I''m a sleepy one.¡± He admits, following up with a small sigh.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± Zyra apologizes and retracts her hand.

    ¡°You''re not keeping me awake or anything like that. I''m just little preoccupied about what we''ll be doing tomorrow ¨C what we might find in Armasstadt.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I''m a bit worried, too.¡± The young pyromancer becomes quiet for a moment, still staring at Atticus''s stoic, expressionless face. ¡°...Was Isabelle really the king of Threcia''s niece?¡±

    The knight finally opens his eyes and turns his head. ¡°She was.¡± He answers with a slight nod. ¡°I know it probably came as a surprise ¨C I didn''t really think to mention it. I didn''t want to seem like I was gloating; that''s the last way I''d ever want to convey my time with her.¡±

    ¡°No, I understand. You weren''t obligated to mention it. But...¡± She tucks her chin in, appearing uncertain and insecure. ¡°I can''t help but feel a bit... intimidated.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? Because you''ve entered my life after a woman of royalty?¡±

    Zyra nods. ¡°Yes. I''m a commoner girl who can only afford to attend the arcane university because her father had to sell his textiles shop. I''ve never met Isabelle before, but I can''t help but picture someone perfect and compare myself to her.¡±

    ¡°When I''m talking to you, I''m not spending my time quietly comparing you to her.¡± Atticus states with serious, stern eyes. ¡°Isabelle was her own person, just as you are. I don''t expect you to be like her. I want you to just be yourself.¡±

    The mage quietly meditates on his words for a moment before a grateful smile crosses her face. ¡°Thank you.¡± She says, and presses her forehead against his shoulder. ¡°I''m sorry if I sound like I''m always trying to make things about me. I''m new to this... romance thing.¡±

    The corner of his mouth curves into a small, wry smile. ¡°It''s alright. I''m not as experienced as you might think, either.¡±

    Though hidden from his sight, Zyra smiles too, and punctuates her improved mood by firmly grasping his hand. With nothing else to say, she rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. Before long, the two drift into a deep slumber and enter the final day of their quest.

 XXV. Armasstadt (Section 1)

    In the following morning, the veiled sunlight illuminates the room Atticus and Zyra are sleeping in. Like clockwork, the knight is the first to stir awake, his body having gotten used to becoming active at the same, consistent time in the early hours. In his grogginess, he notices that they''ve shifted a bit in their slumber, his chest pressed against her back, his right arm draped over her, and her fluffy auburn hair inches from his face. For a brief moment, he considers forcing himself to continue sleeping, but today is an extremely important day ¨C the most important one of the group''s journey: the final one. Today, the Mistwalkers hope to finally reach Armasstadt and discover the source of the mist that plagues the land and continues to spread by the day.

    Atticus, now fully awake but not yet dressed for the day''s trek, goes down to the first floor, where he sees only Veros sitting at a table, eating a small breakfast of rationed foods leftover from their Terrance stay. The knight notices a bedroll near the fire pit.

    ¡°Did you sleep down here?¡± He asks.

    Veros nods. ¡°I did. I felt like at least one person had to stay down here, just in case. So, I grabbed my bedroll and slept.¡±

    ¡°The beds are quite comfortable here. You missed out.¡± Atticus comments as he grabs the large mug he drank from last night and approaches the water keg behind the bar counter.

    ¡°How''s your neck?¡± The veteran asks as he examines the wound from where he''s sitting, squinting his eyes.

    ¡°It''s still a bit tender, but nothing serious.¡± The knight answers as water fills his cup. He closes the tap and joins his teammate at the table.

    ¡°Doesn''t seem infected, at least.¡± Veros remarks with contentment, satisfied with his work of cleaning the injury. ¡°Is anyone else awake?¡±

    ¡°Zyra''s slowly waking herself up. Not sure of the others; I didn''t see any other open doors ¨C aside from the vacant rooms.¡± Atticus brings his stein to his lips for a long sip, but it''s cut short by a throbbing sensation in the sides of his head. He lets out a low groan as he rubs his temple.

    ¡°Hung over?¡±

    ¡°A little.¡± The knight clenches his eyelids shut for a moment to try and overcome the sharp pain.

    ¡°I guess we should''ve held ourselves back, considering the importance of today. But it''s hard to pass up free drinks in such a dull place.¡± Veros comments with a shrug. ¡°Just drink some water and eat breakfast ¨C keep yourself hydrated, and you''ll be fine.¡±

    Taking his comrade''s advice to heart, Atticus continues to down a significant amount of water through the morning to wash down the adequate helpings of fruit that constitute his breakfast. Soon, the loud thuds of feet coming down the stairs are heard. Royd and Kellar reach the first floor to start their day, too.

    ¡°You should''ve seen this fuckin'' lug.¡± Kellar says, pointing to the brawny man behind him after finishing a yawn. ¡°I went into his room to wake him up, and he was practically sleeping in a puddle of his own damn drool. Disgustin''.¡±

    Irritated, Royd twists his face in displeasure. ¡°When I go to bed drunk, I usually end up sleeping with my mouth open, alright? Leave me alone. I just want to sober myself up before we head off.¡±

    ¡°You can take your time.¡± Veros says. ¡°We''re not in too much of a hurry. As long as we go while the sun''s still on the rise, we should reach Armasstadt sometime in the afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Gods, I wish we had meat.¡± The woodcutter gripes as he fills his huge mug with water. ¡°I know I always whine for meat, but right now is serious. I always eat a big serving of it to help clear my head after a night of drinking, and I drank many mugfulls.¡±

    His stein full, Royd closes the tap, but Kellar reopens it to fill his own. ¡°I''m not much of a drinker, really ¨C save for certain circumstances.¡± The rogue remarks while Royd takes a long chug of his water. ¡°I''m not too hung over, but my mouth sure is dry.¡± He closes the tap and brings the mug to his lips. Royd opens the tap again to fill his again.

    Erik joins the men as they proceed eat or finish their meals. Unlike the others, he seems relatively unaffected by the previous night''s heavy drinking, as he lacks a groggy expression or half-conscious mannerisms. This doesn''t stop him from grabbing his mug and drinking water like them, however.

    ¡°You have some pep in your step, Erik.¡± Royd states with a tinge of envy.

    ¡°I''m actually a rather frequent drinker.¡± The noble admits as he watches the surface of the water in his stein continues to slowly rise. ¡°When I''m alone, reading or practicing my archery at home, it''s not uncommon for me to be accompanied by a bottle from my family''s extensive selection of wine.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°So you''re a drunk?¡± Kellar snidely summarizes.

    ¡°It''s not necessarily a daily occurrence.¡± Erik rebuts as he closes the tap. ¡°A person who owns many bottles of wine is an enthusiast. A person who owns many empty bottles of wine is a drunk.¡±

    Zyra is the last one to come down the first floor, covering her mouth mid-yawn before looking around at the others.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± She says, feeling guilty for taking a generous amount of time before coming down. ¡°I fell back asleep for a bit.¡±

    ¡°We haven''t been up for that long.¡± Veros replies, then points to the remaining mug sitting on the short barrier of the fire pit. ¡°Grab your mug and drink some water, sober yourself up a bit before we get going.¡±

    She complies with no apprehension, following the example of the others by pouring herself some water and eating some fruits. Once the Mistwalkers have all finished overcoming the lethargic side-effects of the last night''s drinking, they begin their usual procedure of reequipping themselves and re-saddling their horses. A somber silence shrouds them as they prepare for the ride ahead, an atmosphere of deep contemplation of what might be expecting them at their destination, and quiet second-guessing of whether they''re properly outfitted to truly solve the problem that curses Yhordran.

    They eventually depart the Hand of Armas headquarters and begin following the road north yet again. As always, the grey curtain enveloping their immediate vicinity is nigh impenetrable, severely limiting their field of view and sapping away the colors of the flora along the roadside, despite their lushness.

    Step by step, they progress northward for miles. Encounters with stray undead are thankfully very few and far between, however a bigger issue is starting to become apparent: the density of the mist growing more substantially in the final sixteen miles leading up to Armasstadt than in the hundreds of miles preceding. Since leaving Ervine, their visible radius has been severely cut, going from two hundred feet in all directions to about one hundred ¨C shaved down by half in only about two hours'' time, and the shrinkage shows no sign of slowing.

    ¡°Is it going to be like this all the way up to Armasstadt?¡± An uneasy Kellar complains while examining the colorless wall that continues to slowly swallow the group. ¡°Is the mist gonna keep closin'' in on us until we can''t even see our own hands in front of our face?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know.¡± Veros, also growing frustrated with the fog, answers bluntly. ¡°If it does reach that point, then it would be very easy for us to become lost ¨C or worse: ambushed.¡±

    ¡°I sure hope we turn around if that happens.¡±

    ¡°If it shows no signs of clearing up, possibly; it''d be a fool''s errand to continue in that case. But for now, we''ll press on for as long as we can handle it. We didn''t come this far just to stop on the final day without at least a bit of pushing.¡± The veteran, as determined as ever to press onward, guides the group deeper into the unknown.

    The journeyers continue to persevere for another couple of hours, but unfortunately, the increasing thickness of the mist has finally reached a troubling point. Visibility has become borderline nonexistent, with the Mistwalkers barely able to even see the teammates next to them.

    ¡°This is bad, Veros!¡± Kellar speaks up again, growing more and frantic with each step. ¡°I can''t even fuckin'' see you up there!¡± He yells at the grey wall in front of him.

    ¡°Should we turn back?¡± Royd asks aloud, hoping the men at the front hear him. ¡°I don''t know if this mist will let up as we get any closer to Armasstadt.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Veros''s voice answers back from behind the miasma ahead. ¡°I think I see light ahead; it''s becoming brighter! It might clear up soon, so press forward just a bit more.¡±

    ¡°What kind of light?!¡± Kellar calls back. ¡°Seriously, this mist is so damn thick, it practically hurts to breathe out here!¡±

    ¡°Just keep the usual pace, Kellar! Don''t slow down or you could be left behind! Make sure Erik and Zyra don''t leave your area of visibility.¡±

    The rogue heaves a long, irate sigh. ¡°You gotta be fuckin'' kiddin'' me...¡± He utters, the anxiety and insecurity of the group''s current predicament burdening him more and more as they inch forward.

    At the front of the group, Atticus and Veros are almost as equally nervous about the potential dangers of their nearly blind path, but maintain a quiet, stone-faced resoluteness to push through the nebulous veil. Ahead of them is a wall of light in the mist, growing brighter and larger as they slowly approach it. Veros turns his head around to look towards the rear of the group. Zyra and Erik are barely close enough to be seen, but the wall shuts out anything immediately behind them.

    ¡°Kellar! Royd! Are you two still there?!¡± The veteran calls out.

    ¡°Yeah, we''re here!¡± The ex-mercenary''s agitated voice is heard. Satisfied, Veros faces forward again, resolute in proceeding forward.

    ¡°What do you think that light is?¡± Atticus asks without facing away from it. ¡°We shouldn''t be reaching Armasstadt yet, should we?¡±

    Veros shakes his head. ¡°We''re close. I think we should still be about three miles off from its walls, if my math is correct.¡±

    ¡°Then what could that light be?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know, but if we can see it from here, then it could mean that the mist clears up some.¡± Veros theorizes, adamant on seeing if the impregnable fog manages to let up.

    Gradually, they advance towards the eerie illumination, and when they draw close enough to seemingly touch it, the horses take an extra few steps forward, crossing the cloudy threshold. For a short moment, their eyes are assaulted by a sudden flash of overwhelming light. They hold their hands to their face so they can take a moment to adjust their vision, and finally look ahead to see a sight most magnificent and foreboding.

    About three miles into the distance, across the wide green valley, was the outer walls of Armasstadt, clear as day, no longer obscured by the dense grey barrier. The city lies against the base of Mount Armas, underneath its highest, northernmost peak. About another mile behind its high walls, at the top of a steep road, was the archduke''s castle. A giant, dark stream of miasma was erupting from the interior of the huge building, reaching miles into the sky before hitting an invisible ceiling that causes the stream to spread outward in all directions, creating a gargantuan dome around the area. The base of that dome was now immediately behind them.

 XXV. Armasstadt (Section 2)

    ¡°What in the fuckin'' hell is this?¡± Kellar utters soon after phasing through the intangible wall. No one answers immediately, as they''re all equally flabbergasted by the ominous, yet awe-striking view.

    ¡°I guess we know where the mist is coming from now.¡± Veros finally remarks, his gaze tracing the terrifying beam of almost pitch-black fog up and down, between the castle on the side of the mountain and the high apex above.

    ¡°I''ve never seen anything like this.¡± Zyra whispers, her mouth automatically giving voice to her thoughts. ¡°It''s... almost beautiful. Or at least it would be if weren''t so... scary.¡± She''s able to pry her eyes off of the erupting darkness ahead to scan the group''s surroundings, specifically their sides. The untouchable barrier of thick mist continues in a giant circle as far as the eye can see, arcing around to meet on the other side of Mount Armas, well into the ocean. The diameter of the huge dome must be about eight miles.

    ¡°Looks like a clear path to the city.¡± Atticus comments, examining the grassy plains ahead of them. There isn''t a single presence of fauna ¨C or even wandering undead ¨C between them and the walls of Armasstadt.

    ¡°Well, there''s no point in standing around looking gobsmacked.¡± Veros shakes his gaze off the dark sky and beckons everyone forward. ¡°Let''s go.¡±

    With nowhere else to go but north, the Mistwalkers proceed to close in on their much-anticipated destination. As usual, the only sounds that fill the air are the muffled thumps of their horses'' hooves beating the ground underneath them. However, this time their field of view isn''t a meager few hundred feet around them. Now, they can clearly see the empty, silent miles of land. It strikes them with an uneasy feeling of sullen loneliness in a different way from what they had felt when their vision was obscured.

    As they draw nearer, a faint hum becomes audible. The ray of blackness sprouting from the castle is letting out a constant, low buzz, becoming slightly louder as they approach. It grows into a rough noise, like a perpetual gust sweeping through the area.

    The group soon enters the outer limits of the Armasstadt boundary, passing the small clusters of homes, stables, and remnants of various vendors that are scattered along the exterior of the giant wall that protects the city proper, towering at about eighty feet in height. Like the many villages they cut through on the way here, it''s a complete ghost town, but with an extra unsettling attribute: unmoving corpses are littered through the road in huge numbers, growing denser as they approach the wall.

    ¡°Wait.¡± Veros commands before they get too close for comfort. He eyes the uncountable collection of heavily withered cadavers, trying to gauge whether or not they''re reanimated.

    ¡°What do you want to do?¡± Royd asks, also uncertain of how to approach. ¡°I don''t know how we could go around these poor sods, but we sure as hell don''t have the means of ascending this wall.¡±

    ¡°I''m starting to get flashbacks to Levinburg, here.¡± Kellar remarks, trembling at the thought of another massive horde on his tail.

    Veros doesn''t reply, instead he narrows his eyes to look for any sight of reanimation among the masses. However, he notices something odd: the majority of the bodies are either trampled, decapitated, or ¨C when looking closer to the wall ¨C riddled with arrows.

    ¡°I think these corpses are truly dead.¡± Atticus speaks up, having noticed the same things. ¡°Some of them have crushed heads, and others have been beheaded entirely.¡±

    ¡°So somethin'' killed them out here?¡± Kellar asks. ¡°What was it?¡±

    ¡°I couldn''t begin to guess.¡±

    ¡°I agree that it does look safe,¡± Veros says, ¡°but it doesn''t really matter as long as the gate is closed.¡± He gestures towards the massive portcullis inside the great wall. ¡°Royd was right, we don''t have any tools to scale it.¡±

    Kellar unleashes a sigh. ¡°Is there a way around it? Like up against the mountain?¡± The rogue points towards the very end of the wall, where it meets the mountainside.

    ¡°You want to try climbing the mountain?¡± Royd snidely asks. ¡°That''s not much better than climbing the wall.¡±

    ¡°No, you oaf. I wasn''t talking about climbin'' the fuckin'' mountain. I meant there might be sort of smaller entrance inside of it, maybe a cave or somethin''.¡±

    Veros shakes his head, frustrated at the lack of options. ¡°There might not be such an entrance at all. But I don''t know either way, because I''m not from here ¨C none of us are.¡±

    ¡°So what the hell do we do, then?¡± The ex-mercenary grows agitated. ¡°We came all this goddamn way just to be stopped by a wall?¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Maybe we can dig underneath the portcullis?¡± Royd offers a plan.

    ¡°Do you have any idea how deep the teeth of a portcullis that huge go into the ground? It would take us hours to not only dig that far down, but to also dig a slope up into the other side. Is that what you want to do? Manual labor? Gods...¡± Kellar clenches his fists in irritation.

    The morale of the group quickly begins to plummet as they realize the futility of their current situation. They don''t know if there''s any sort of side entrance into the city, and they could end up wasting hours following the wall from one end to the other. They have no means of climbing it, yet digging under the portcullis is likely to take many hours'' worth of work, as well.

    ¡°Of all the things to be ill-prepared for,¡± Veros complains in a defeated tone, ¡°it had to be the very last obstacle of our journey: actually entering the city.¡± He shakes his head, any hope of success draining from him.

    ¡°I guess we don''t have much of a choice.¡± Atticus speaks up, also clearly discouraged, but not enough to yet give up on their mission. ¡°We''ll just have to do a process of elimination, going from the least time-consuming methods to the most, and see which works.¡±

    ¡°What do you propose?¡± The veteran inquires, interested in the knight''s ideas.

    ¡°I say we split into three pairs; one follows the wall east and one follows it west to look for some sort of hidden entrance, and the third looks around these buildings for possible siege equipment, or anything that could be made into siege equipment.¡±

    ¡°And if that all fails?¡±

    Atticus shrugs. ¡°Then I guess we''ll be digging for a while.¡±

    ¡°Dammit...¡± Kellar curses under his breath. ¡°I guess it would be faster to dick around and see what we can find than go back to Terrance and get proper gear.¡±

    ¡°Digging for an extra day is something we didn''t really account for when collecting our food back in Terrance.¡± Erik speaks up, bringing to light an important point. ¡°If we really do plan on spending time going out of our way to dig underneath the portcullis with little equipment, then we''d have to ration our food more, which would be at odds with the amount of labor we''d have to perform.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, I don''t look forward to that.¡± Royd remarks with a grimace.

    ¡°That''s only if we don''t find an alternate route inside,¡± Atticus reassures, ¡°or any way to craft siege equipment that''ll get us over.¡±

    ¡°That is a massive wall, though.¡± Kellar comments, his eyes repeatedly examining the height of the structure, back and forth from base to roof. With the exception of tiny windows that dot the exterior side for archers to use in battle, the outer face of the entire structure is completely flat. ¡°Even if we make somethin'' to get over it with, it''ll be a hell of a climb, and considerin'' all the equipment we''re carryin'' and the fact we have some people inexperienced with this sort of thing, we''d have to make a ladder. A hook and rope ain''t gonna cut it.¡±

    ¡°Are we going to leave our horses out here?¡± Royd asks.

    ¡°We''d have to if we scale over the wall.¡± Veros answers. ¡°And if we do dig under the portcullis, we''d have to dig an extra several feet to fit them under instead of digging just enough for us to squeeze through, which means more labor. Either way, it seems we''d have to leave our horses behind.¡±

    ¡°Which is unfortunate.¡± Kellar comments, still suspicious of the corpses that litter the road. ¡°If we get chased by another horde in the city, it might not end in our favor like it did in Levinburg.¡±

    ¡°I guess that makes sense.¡± The brawny man utters.

    ¡°Well, we''d better decide on who''s doing what. We''re wasting precious daylight just standing around.¡± Veros urges his companions. ¡°Who do you think should make up the pairs, Atticus?¡±

    ¡°Veros and Erik will be one pair and follow the eastern side of the wall.¡± The knight begins to lay out plans. ¡°Royd and Kellar will stay at the gate and search the houses for any usable materials to make a ladder with. Zyra and I will follow the western¨C¡±

    The knight is cut off by an abrupt, loud mechanical rumbling coming from ahead. The massive portcullis shakes and begins to rise at a measured pace. It''s long wooden teeth lift from the grooves in the ground. Unsure of what''s happening, the Mistwalkers steel themselves for a possibly hostile encounter.

    ¡°What the fuck is goin'' on?¡± Kellar urgently inquires.

    ¡°I don''t know.¡± Veros answers. ¡°I didn''t notice anyone on the other side. Everyone stay on your toes.¡±

    Confused at the unforeseen event, a few of them examine their surroundings for approaching enemies ¨C possibly an ambush, but the homes and vast grassy valley around them remains as empty as it was the last time they glanced around. The towering portcullis continues to lift, but there''s still no sign of life on the opposite side, where the cobblestone road begins and leads up a continuous slope to the castle. The huge gate finally stops rising with an audible clunk once it clears about fifteen feet.

    ¡°What do we do? Should we go in?¡± Zyra asks, her face flushed with equal parts bewilderment and fear.

    ¡°Let''s wait a moment. It could be a trap.¡± Veros answers without prying his eyes away from the open passage. He tries desperately to scan the tiny windows spaced evenly along the gargantuan wall, hoping to see some presence of someone or something.

    A silent, extended moment passes of the six trying to make heads or tails of what could''ve opened the gate, but no matter where they look, they spot no one. They slowly regain their composure once their sense of alarm begins to die down, and try to weigh their options.

    ¡°Well? What now?¡± Royd asks.

    ¡°I... I don''t know.¡± Veros replies with little confidence. ¡°Though it''s not like we have much of a choice, as the alternative ways inside aren''t nearly as convenient as simply walking through the front door, but...¡± He wants to say ''it could be a trap'' again, but he just isn''t certain.

    ¡°There!¡± Kellar points at the open threshold.

    A robed figure is seen walking out from behind the wall, approaching the group at a slow, cautious pace, with a non-threatening but stiff posture and lack of any weapons, stepping over the many corpses on the road.

    ¡°Who in the world...¡± Veros utters.

    ¡°He''s walkin'' towards us. What do we do?¡±

    ¡°He doesn''t seem to be a threat. Just wait. I think he still has his wits about him, like Lias.¡± The veteran tries to calm his team as the unknown person continues to advance.

 XXV. Armasstadt (Section 3)

    The robed individual comes close enough for finer details in his face to become visible, revealing greenish-grey patches of necrotic flesh still clinging to his partially-exposed skull. Isolated strands of hair still poking out of his scalp dance weightlessly in the air due to how thin and frail they''ve become. He stops walking when he reaches about forty feet off from the group.

    ¡°You are... alive... aren''t you?¡± A low, raspy voice emerges from the undead man''s mouth. He seems to be as wary of them as they are of him.

    Veros glances over at Atticus to wordlessly ask what he thinks. The knight gives a tiny nod of approval, urging the veteran to answer. ¡°We are,¡± he replies, ¡°and we''re here to help. Is this the first time Armasstadt has been approached by living people since the mist appeared?¡±

    With seemingly no reason to doubt his visitors, the man nods. ¡°Yes. For six months, we''ve had our gate closed. Only the undead have approached during that time, as you can see.¡± He gestures towards the vast collection of still bodies on and alongside the road. ¡°We weren''t sure what awaited us beyond the barrier over yonder, so we holed ourselves up here.¡±

    ¡°Judging by your appearance... It''s safe to assume you''re undead, yes?¡±

    The necrotic man nods again. ¡°Very. When the mist first showed up, it overtook the city. It was so thick, it suffocated and killed everyone within the wall in mere minutes. It took some time before the stream above reached high enough to create the dome around the area that you see now.¡± The man extends his index finger and traces it along the foggy barrier around the valley. ¡°But by then, every citizen of Armasstadt was dead. However, some, like me, managed to maintain their minds.¡±

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Veros asks, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed with curiosity. ¡°And how many others like you are there in Armasstadt? What happened here that caused the mist to appear?¡±

    The undead man lifts his hands, palms forward. ¡°Wait. I know you have many questions, and I''m more than willing to answer them. I have questions also, as we haven''t been able to communicate with anyone beyond the dome. No doubt that you''re here to quell the miasma, and that''s exactly what I wish for you to do, as well. But before we can discuss things, please follow me back behind the wall, so we can close the gate again.¡±

    Without another word, the robed man turns and begins to walk back to the portcullis. The Mistwalkers glance at each other in confusion, but with no other options and the knowledge that the remaining undead inhabitants of Armasstadt are sapient undead ¨C like Lias was ¨C they see no reason to not follow. Thus, they proceed forward, their horses paying little care to the corpses they crush underhoof.

    After they clear the open gate and enter the city proper, they see about three dozen other reanimated citizens coming out of their hiding spots along the interior side of the wall, relieved that their guests are among the living. They''re a mix of men, women, and even a few children, and due to how heavily decayed everyone is ¨C a few of whom are even missing limbs ¨C it''s extremely difficult to guess anyone''s age. The six journeyers can''t help but frown at the tragic sight of these undead folk who had met such a sudden, horrific fate due to the crazed ambition of a few zealous men.

    The robed man lifts his hand to signal to two pairs of other men standing on a catwalk along the interior side of the wall to let down the portcullis, and they comply. The mechanical rumble begins again as the massive gate slides back down, and the Mistwalkers dismount from their horses.

    ¡°Thank you for your patience.¡± The unknown man speaks up again. ¡°Now, we can discuss matters safely.¡±

    ¡°Is everyone here... all that''s left of this city?¡± Veros asks, looking to the heavily decayed faces of the silent, still-sapient undead around him.

    ¡°Yes. We''re the only ones.¡± The undead man answers plainly with a somber nod.

    ¡°About the corpses outside, is it really so common for other, hostile undead to attack you or try to break in?¡±

    The man nods. ¡°Somewhat. A group of about ten or so tried to hopelessly scale the portcullis about two weeks ago. I can''t even begin to imagine how they''re driven to do such a thing. My name is Owyn, by the way. Owyn Redgrave.¡±

    ¡°My name is Veros Quintum. These are the my comrades.¡± He gestures towards the others, who quietly nod.

    ¡°Well, Mister Quintum, I''m sure you have many things to ask about the current state of Armasstadt and what led to it, but before you speak them, I do have some questions of my own, as we''ve been cut off from the outside world for quite some time. Would you mind?¡±

    The veteran shakes his head. ¡°No, not at all. You''re probably just as desperate for answers as we are, if not more so. Please, ask away. We''ll answer whatever we can.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. First off, how far has the mist spread? And is anything being done to contain it?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Veros frowns slightly, as he knows his honest response is not going to be a pleasant one to hear. ¡°The mist has spread... about four hundred miles in all directions.¡±

    ¡°Oh, Gods...¡± Owyn utters, deeply upset by the news, and the other Armasstadt survivors listening in begin to groan and gasp, as well. ¡°Please tell us it''s at least being contained.¡±

    ¡°It is.¡± Veros answers quickly to calm everyone down. ¡°A giant wall was erected by the crown, hiring thousands of woodcutters and carpenters, expanding all the way from the west coast to the east coast. Arcane barriers along the entire wall are keeping the mist at bay, at least on the land to the south, but nothing''s stopping it from expanding over the oceans.¡±

    ¡°Where did the crown acquire so many arcane crystals?¡±

    ¡°Well, I think Zyra can talk about that better than I can.¡± The team leader looks back at the team''s young mage, beckoning her to come forward.

    Zyra steps forward. ¡°Uh, hello. I''m Zyra Wedwick, a student at the university.¡± She introduces herself with an uncharacteristic bow. ¡°The crown borrowed the crystals from the university, which caused a bit of conflict between the faculty and the crown. So, due to the lack of crystals, the school''s curriculum has slowed significantly.¡±

    Owyn heaves a sigh. ¡°I suppose that was the only real way to stop it. That''s unfortunate to hear, though.¡± He looks down at Zyra''s right hand and notices her bracelet. ¡°You''re... a two-stone mage? And you managed to make it this far?¡± His curiosity piques.

    ¡°Uh, yes. I was actually struggling with my performance, and I decided to venture into the mist to try and improve.¡± The arcane pupil sheepishly admits. ¡°Are you a mage, sir?¡±

    ¡°I was...¡± Owyn''s tone becomes more sullen as he rubs his right wrist unwittingly. ¡°Before I died in the mist. I was headmaster of the school here. I practiced electromancy. When the mist first appeared, it actually overwhelmed every arcane stone we had in our possessions, causing them to explode. I tried to put some back together, but I couldn''t manipulate them anymore, not even the tiniest shard.¡±

    ¡°You can''t cast magic or manipulate stones since you''re dead?¡± Veros asks for clarification. ¡°I had assumed it was still possible for undead to do it since they''re still moving, but...¡±

    ¡°I assumed that, too. But no matter how hard I tried, no amount of arcane energy would budge at my will. Not even the weakest spark. It''s said that anything with a pulse can cast a spell, even animals, theoretically, so... that means nothing runs through my veins after all. I wouldn''t be rotting away if there were something.¡±

    ¡°Wait.¡± Kellar interjects. ¡°I don''t mean to sound rude or anythin'', but... if you don''t have a pulse, then how do the undead even move around?¡±

    ¡°Your guess is as good as mine.¡± Owyn responds with a shrug. ¡°It''s a rather morbid idea, but I''ve simply come to the conclusion that the mist keeps the undead aware and able to react, but by sheer chance, we were able to maintain our human minds. I can''t prove it, as it''s just my own assumption, but it''s the best idea I have.¡±

    ¡°Damn. That''s rough.¡± The rogue becomes saddened at the idea that the surviving, sapient undead of Armasstadt might only still maintain their remaining humanity thanks to the very thing that killed them to begin with.

    ¡°Are there many undead in the villages inside the mist? If it has spread so far in every direction, then it must be sheer chaos.¡±

    ¡°''Chaos'' isn''t really how I''d describe it.¡± Veros replies, preparing to give more bad news. ¡°Every village in this side of Yhordran is a ghost town for the most part. The only places that are truly safe to stay in are the Legion checkpoints set up the southern half of the affected area.¡±

    ¡°Legion checkpoints?¡± Owyn repeats, confused.

    ¡°The crown has tried to send Legion platoons through the area to try and discover the source of the mist, going out of their way to construct checkpoints as sort of makeshift bases. But they stopped about halfway in. However, in order to encourage citizens to help with efforts, they conceived a program which allows anyone to register themselves as a Mistwalker, and they receive a wage for venturing into the mist.¡±

    ¡°What in the world?¡± The decayed man becomes increasingly perplexed. ¡°Why would the crown stop halfway in, only to let commonfolk risk their own lives? I assume you six are ''Mistwalkers'', yourselves?¡±

    Veros nods. ¡°We are. We''re not part of the Legion in any way. We''re operating on our own.¡±

    ¡°Well, that explains why you have a mage with you who hasn''t even graduated yet.¡± Owyn turns his attention back to Zyra. ¡°Zyra, was it? You mentioned there was a conflict between the university staff and the crown after losing most of their arcane crystals. What did you mean by that?¡±

    ¡°Uh, well,¡± the young mage begins, ¡°most of the teachers at the university have refused to offer any assistance in the quelling of the mist, because their jobs have been made significantly more difficult without crystals to help teach, so it''s extremely rare for mages to volunteer themselves to become Mistwalkers.¡±

    ¡°The arcane university is refusing to help?¡± A masculine voice from the small crowd of undead is heard, followed by frightened, confused, angry murmurs among them.

    ¡°Gods above...¡± Owyn heaves a long sigh. ¡°What a foolish bunch, letting personal politics get in the way of serving the people like they''re supposed to.¡± Growing frustrated, Owyn clenches his fists. ¡°They''re god damned teachers, not dukes.¡±

    ¡°Ever since the Legion stopped making regular efforts to push further north, nothing much has changed.¡± Veros continues. ¡°People sign up to become Mistwalkers, but they''re either too ill-prepared or incompetent to survive, too frightened to travel too far, or, in some cases, only registered to ride in, loot bodies and abandoned homes, and leave.¡±

    Owyn slumps his shoulders and rubs his decayed forehead, exhausted from simply hearing what he''s been hearing. ¡°This is... awful. Sounds like nobody can distinguish left from right out there.¡±

    ¡°Yes, well, after almost seven months, people are starting to care less and less, accepting an inevitable doom or pushing responsibilities onto others, especially when the crown stopped making any active efforts.¡±

    ¡°We can''t waste anymore time, then.¡± The undead mage suddenly becomes determined. ¡°You''re the first living people who have been here since this disaster started. You have to do something about the mist.¡± He turns towards the castle that stands at the top of the sloped road leading up the mountainside.

    ¡°Right. That''s what we''re here for. I was wondering if you could corroborate some details we received from an undead monk we met back in Adderland.¡±

 XXV. Armasstadt (Section 4)

    ¡°A monk? One from the monastery?¡± Owyn asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

    ¡°That''s right. His name was Lias, and he was undead, but still had his wits about him, like you. He gave us a rather lengthy confession of his involvement with the creation of this mist.¡±

    ¡°I knew those bastard clergymen had something to do with this.¡± Owyn remarks, visibly angry. ¡°What did he say? I can''t guarantee I can confirm much, as I didn''t participate in any of their shady schemes while they were here, but I''ll try my best.¡±

    ¡°He basically said that Grand Monk Selick from Evatica met up with Advisor Zellen Hayne here to examine some sort of holy relic that was discovered inside the mountain. Do you know about any of that?¡±

    ¡°I can confirm Selick came here about half a year before the mist appeared, and I do know of his frequent visits with Hayne and Archduke Westshire, but I didn''t know of the nature of them.¡± Owyn strokes his bony chin as he tries to recall any relevant details. ¡°I had heard rumors in passing about some sort of strange object being found in the mines, but I never found out the details, so this ''holy relic'' is news to me.¡±

    ¡°Hayne and Selick never sought any sort of counsel with you about the object?¡± Veros asks, puzzled as to why the headmaster of the arcane school would be left in the dark. ¡°If they truly found something that was magical in nature ¨C holy or not ¨C than surely you''d be one of the more obvious people to have involved with examining it.¡±

    ¡°Nobody ever brought it to my attention. Selick and Hayne kept to themselves all the time, barely left the castle. I would see those other monastery monks follow them around in the few occasions I did see them. I made several attempts to try and find out what was happening, but they were all extraordinarily tight-lipped. They didn''t talk to me, my pupils, or any of the other teachers.¡±

    ¡°So Selick and Hayne were experimenting with a holy relic, and purposely blocked any mage from knowing about it?¡± Veros summarizes the new information, but he''s unsure of how to process it. He looks back at Atticus, who has been quiet until now. ¡°You have any ideas?¡±

    The knight isn''t quick to answer. He takes a moment to consider the zealots'' potential motives before stepping forward and giving his thoughts. ¡°If keeping mages out of the loop was a purposeful decision, then it means they probably could''ve done something to interfere with Selick and Hayne''s plans.¡±

    ¡°We don''t necessarily specialize in the tinkering with holy objects, so I can''t imagine how we''d be able to interfere.¡± Owyn replies, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

    ¡°Unless it wasn''t really a holy object at all, and they knew that. Or at least Hayne knew, and he needed people with enough knowledge of the arcane to help manipulate it, but not enough knowledge to stop him. Maybe the ''holy relic'' detail was a fabrication to get the monks interested.¡±

    ¡°That''s quite a theory, but I don''t know enough to refute it. If it is a magical object, then what do you think it is?¡±

    ¡°A black crystal.¡± Atticus answers as bluntly. ¡°There''s nothing else that could cause this much devastation.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Owyn hangs his head, not surprised at all by the knight''s proposal. ¡°So, you think so too, huh?¡±

    ¡°You''ve considered the idea, as well?¡±

    The decayed mage nods. ¡°I have. Quite frankly, I agree that it is the only thing on this world that could spread such a foul curse, but I didn''t know for sure how or why they would have it, and how the monks could be involved. But, in light of the details you''ve given me, it does seem plausible. The only other question left unanswered is: how did they manage to manipulate it in such a way that it didn''t cause a natural disaster or wipe this side of Yhordran off the map, like black crystals of the past have done?¡±

    ¡°That, I have no clue about.¡±

    ¡°This careful deducin'' is great and all,¡± Kellar interjects, ¡°but why haven''t you gone into the castle and found things out for yourself?¡±

    ¡°Because we can''t.¡± Owyn responds casually. ¡°Look.¡± He turns and points to the castle gates at the top of the long, sloped road. It''s faint due to the distance, but a barrier of thick mist has collected around the building, making a second, smaller dome localized over the castle. ¡°We can''t pass that barrier ¨C it''s like a wall. Somehow it keeps us out, almost certainly because we''re undead.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± The rogue becomes dejected. ¡°Well, that''s a pain of the ass. You all spent nearly seven months sitting around, unable to find out what the cause of the mist is, despite it bein'' only a few steps away? Rough deal.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    ¡°It was driving us mad. We''re physically so close to getting answers, and maybe stopping it, but that damned fog wall prevents us. We were actually beginning to consider manning siege weapons to try and attack the castle out of desperation, but the only thing holding us back from doing that is the fact that we don''t know if that would somehow make things worse.¡±

    ¡°You might''ve made the right call in holding off.¡± Veros comments, trying to reassure the undead man. ¡°If you can''t get inside the castle, then you must not know what''s happening inside, right?¡±

    ¡°That''s true.¡± Owyn guiltfully admits. ¡°We can''t get into any position that allows us to see what''s happening within its walls, so I can''t give you any information that could help you if you venture inside.¡±

    ¡°Well, we were able to come this far. I think we can manage.¡± Veros turns and looks back at his comrades, who gaze at the building with eyes that are steeled with determination, though also not necessarily free of doubt. ¡°Is everyone ready? We can''t stand around and waste too much time.¡±

    ¡°As I''ll ever be.¡± Royd answers, lacking his usual confident voice, but his stone-faced expression suggests a firm willingness to proceed.

    ¡°We should get this over with.¡± Kellar remarks, growing increasingly anxious. ¡°The more we wait, the more I''ll start second-guessin'' myself.¡±

    ¡°It''s a very imposing-looking castle, isn''t it?¡± Zyra comments, staring at the ominous dark beam shooting from the middle of the massive keep. ¡°But nothing''s going to be solved by just standing around.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Erik voices his agreement. ¡°It was quite a trek to reach this point. We shouldn''t hesitate while we''re so close to the end.¡±

    Veros turns to the black-clad knight. ¡°And you?¡±

    Atticus doesn''t respond immediately. He gazes at the erupting miasma for a moment and turns to the veteran. ¡°Let''s go.¡±

    The veteran''s lips curve into the smallest smile, as if amused at himself for thinking his comrade would give any other answer. ¡°I guess that settles it, then. No more waiting around. Let''s head inside.¡±

    ¡°I''ll accompany you up the path.¡± Owyn states before turning to the small crowd of fellow Armasstadt citizens. ¡°Everyone stay here, continue your usual duties. I''ll guide our visitors as far as I can.¡±

    The other undead folk quietly accept their order. Though their faces are so rotted and decayed and their expressions are so sullen, the tiniest glint of hope can be seen igniting in their eyes.

    Leaving their horses near the massive entrance, and taking only their weapons, the Mistwalkers decide to continue towards the supposed resolution of their journey, which is mere steps away, but obscured behind a mysterious magic barrier, and inside of a towering castle. Step by step, they climb the cobblestone stairs that reach higher and higher levels of Armasstadt''s mountainside geography. Every fifty or so steps is punctuated by a flattened landing area that intersects into another road leading east and west along the circular layout of the city''s foundation.

    As they pass each level, they peer into the empty streets; rows of abandoned homes stretch as far as the eye can see, until the curve of the street removes them from view. Some of them even bear plant growths on their exterior walls, displaying a clear lack of maintenance. Even the slabs of cobblestone in the ground have traces of weeds sprouting from the cracks. It truly does seem as though the handful of sapient undead standing back at the portcullis are the last of the Armasstadt citizens. Practically overnight, this bustling northern metropolis with well over a hundred thousand inhabitants was reduced to what is now little more than a haunting ground, populated by a small group of people who are kept alive by a curse.

    ¡°Owyn.¡± Veros speaks up as they continue their climb towards the castle. ¡°What happened to all the inhabitants after they died? Surely there must''ve been many bodies left in the wake of the spreading mist?¡±

    ¡°Despite how futile it was,¡± the decomposing mage begins, ¡°many people down in the lower rings tried to make an escape, trampling over each other with either their own feet or their horses''. The portcullis was left open for days after the miasma appeared, and many of those who lost their minds simply wandered out of their own accord. Once the majority had left, me and a few others closed it and began searching for other survivors throughout the city. We killed the straggling mindless husks we ran into, and dumped their remains outside the walls by the wagonful.¡±

    ¡°That''s... quite a task. It must have been taxing, both physically and mentally.¡±

    Owyn casts his gaze downward slightly and shakes his head. ¡°That''s putting it lightly. I knew a lot of the people whose bodies I threw out; neighbors, colleagues, even some pupils. There used to be more of us, you know ¨C survivors. We used to number in the hundreds, but as you can tell, we slowly decay, mist or not. Eventually, when we decay enough, our mind finally goes, and we lose the sense of humanity we had been able to hold on to. Many survivors started out ''normal'', so to speak, but after they rotted enough, they became hostile, and needed to be put down.¡±

    ¡°That''s terrible.¡± Zyra comments. ¡°I''m sorry you all had to wait so long for people to reach you.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of waitin'',¡± Kellar interjects, ¡°did any of you try to head south at all? Just to contact anyone?¡±

    ¡°A few did leave, as they became increasingly desperate.¡± Owyn responds. ¡°But as you might have guessed, they never came back. The rest of us ultimately decided to stay here, in Armasstadt. We figured that if someone did manage to reach us, they''d want to know about what had transpired here, even if the information is paltry. Plus, we figured that there must''ve been more undead roaming the lands if the mist had indeed spread to other villages. We just had no idea it spread so far.¡±

    ¡°I don''t blame you for staying put and holing up here.¡± Veros states. ¡°A lot can happen in the hundreds of miles you''d need to travel to reach the living.¡±

    ¡°A true point. But there''s little we can do here after we''ve taken the time to clear the city of hostiles. As undead, we don''t eat or sleep. We just stand around and wait, hoping for help to arrive. As you can imagine, the last six months felt like much longer than that.¡±

 XXV. Armasstadt (Section 5)

    The group continues their tiring trek up the steep trail to Armasstadt Castle. The buildings in the upper half of the city levels begin to look taller and sturdier-made, despite being equally covered in unwanted growths. Eventually, at the a certain altitude, they''re no longer made of wood anymore, but rather stone. They''re complex, multi-story homes clearly meant for nobility, but still just as empty as the shacks near the bottom rings.

    After almost half an hour of slowly ascending hundreds of stone steps and passing over a dozen street levels, the Mistwalkers finally reach the apex of the sloped road. They now face the miasmic wall guarding the way to the entrance of the castle, which is pressed up directly against the mountain, but still hundreds of feet below its peak. The constant rumble of the dark stream spewing through the roof of the building has grown even more noticeable.

    ¡°Gods, my legs are killin'' me.¡± Kellar gripes as soon as the clears the final step and starts rubbing his thighs. ¡°Probably should''ve rode the horses up here.¡±

    Zyra, feeling similarly exhausted, opts to sit on the ground to relieve her legs. ¡°I''d really appreciate it if we took a minute to rest before heading in.¡±

    Owyn takes a few steps forward and presses his open palm against the nebulous dome. Rather than his hand going through the mist, it''s stopped by a seemingly invisible but solid presence, causing a series of ripples to spread from the spot he''s touching.

    ¡°This is why we can''t enter.¡± He says, with his eyes drowsy with exhaustion from his silent recollections of the innumerable failed attempts to bypass the barrier. ¡°None of us can force our way in, no matter what we do.¡±

    ¡°And you believe we can enter because we''re not undead?¡± Veros asks, unsure of the idea. ¡°How certain are you of this?¡±

    ¡°Honestly, not very. Obviously, we don''t have any living thing to test our theory with ¨C neither human nor animal. All we know is that we can''t cross it, and it could have something to do with not being alive.¡±

    Veros hesitates to come near the wall, as he isn''t sure how he would react if he couldn''t pass. Regardless, he and the others still need to know. He steps forward and raises his right hand, facing his palm against the misty barrier. He takes a deep breath and inches it forward slowly. His skin grazes the intangible strands of grey fog that rise like smoke, and as his hand reaches the supposed surface, he suddenly pushes with more force. The curtain engulfs it, halfway up his forearm.

    ¡°It worked!¡± Owyn yells in relief, a burdening mystery now solved. ¡°Thank the Gods! You really can pass!¡±

    Veros heaves a long sigh and retracts his hand to wipe away a bead of sweat from above his brow. ¡°That''s one less problem to worry about.¡±

    ¡°We''ve spent months wondering if our theory was true, but now we know.¡± Owyn''s dry, decayed lips curve into a proud smile.

    ¡°Any advice before we go in? Do you know what''s inside?¡±

    Owyn shakes his head. ¡°Unfortunately, I don''t. The only information I can possibly give is that we haven''t seen anyone leave the castle since this all began. So whoever was inside when the mist appeared is likely still in there now, though almost certainly undead.¡±

    ¡°What about the layout of the place?¡± Kellar asks, still bent over to rub his sore legs. ¡°Do you know what room that could be comin'' from?¡± He points up at the huge beam of miasma that''s broken through the roof of a room deep within the castle.

    ¡°I''m almost certain it''s coming from the congregation hall, which is near the very back of the castle.¡±

    ¡°How do we get there?¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°It''s straightforward, thankfully.¡± The undead mage lifts his hands to help create a visual aid as he describes the interior of the castle. ¡°Once you enter, you''ll be in the entrance foyer. You''ll see sets of stairs leading up to a platform, which goes to the ballroom. It''s a dead end, so you can ignore it. Instead, go through the path underneath the platform and follow it directly to the courtyard. Straight across the courtyard is the grand foyer, which only leads straight to the congregation hall.¡±

    ¡°So we just need to keep walking forward?¡± Royd succinctly summarizes. ¡°That''s simple enough.¡±

    ¡°Don''t be surprised if you run into guards, however.¡± Owyn reminds them matter-of-factly. ¡°As I said, whoever was in there when the mist appeared, is likely still inside, and that includes the archduke''s hefty entourage of swordsmen.¡±

    ¡°We''ll try to avoid trouble.¡± Veros reassures and turns to his teammates, who all wear expressions of mixed anxiousness, resoluteness and curiosity. ¡°Is everyone ready?¡±

    Kellar straightens his back to stand with measured confidence, and Zyra reluctantly forces herself back to her feet, wincing at the burning sensation still nestled within her legs from the tedious climb up the city steps. Royd and Erik silently nod with determined faces, and Atticus quietly stares up at the focused storm of dark fog that taints the sky, knowing that the final barrier between them and their goal ¨C the undead-deterring wall before the castle doors ¨C has been cleared, and now it''s more or less a straight line to the end of their mission.

    ¡°Before you go,¡± Owyn stops them before they cross the point of potentially no return, ¡°what is everyone''s names? I''ve received Veros''s and Zyra''s, but I''d like to know everyone else''s.¡±

    ¡°Kellar Weylan.¡± The rogue first answers.

    ¡°Royd Darvenson.¡± The brawny man replies.

    ¡°Erik Rocheford.¡± The noble answers, as well.

    ¡°Atticus Dayne.¡± The knight responds, peeling his gaze away from the sky. ¡°From Threcia.¡±

    ¡°I want you all to know that I''m deeply grateful to you for simply coming here.¡± Owyn, overcome with gratitude, finally begins to unleash the sense of relief he''s held in since being visited by the Mistwalkers. ¡°We''ve spent so long wondering what has happened to Yhordran, yet no one came until now.¡±

    ¡°We haven''t really done anythin'', yet.¡± Kellar remarks, feeling slightly uneased by the premature praise being heaped upon the group.

    ¡°By coming all this way, you''ve reassured us that people out there are actually trying to help. Our meeting was the first form of contact we''ve had with anyone in the last six months. Plus, whether or not you''re successful, this could be the last time we speak.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°As I mentioned, us undead are likely kept animated by the mist. So, if you truly do destroy whatever it is that''s creating it, we might be truly dead when you come back out ¨C limp, lifeless bodies, as we are supposed to be.¡±

    ¡°I see...¡± The veteran utters, casting his eyes downward in a wave of sudden contemplation. He hadn''t considered such a scenario.

    ¡°Don''t worry.¡± Owyn''s voice becomes soft and sympathetic, his mouth curls into a smile. ¡°It''s what we want. Living like a decaying husk like this isn''t a life at all, but an offensive imitation of it ¨C a curse that we''ve been hoping to be freed from for quite some time.¡±

    ¡°I can''t promise any success, Owyn.¡± Veros''s tone shifts to a slightly more meek and uncertain demeanor. ¡°But we''ll try our damnedest to end his horrific plague.¡±

    The decaying man nods. ¡°That''s all I ask.¡±

    With the final exchange of sentiments out of the way, Veros turns towards the intangible, misty barrier. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to gather his courage and channel his focus. The other five Mistwalkers step forward to stand around him, all taking their last opportunity to steel themselves from unknown dangers that could be waiting for them ahead.

    ¡°If the mist isn''t gone by nightfall and we don''t return at all,¡± the stone-faced leader begins his last instructions, ¡°assume we failed. Then, send some of your survivors south, to Terrance. Other living people have settled there, including a woman named Lena Eudenwulf, another mage and former university teacher. Tell her everything that you told us and relay the information we told you about Selick and Hayne, and she should be able to help from there. It''ll take a few days, and the way isn''t safe from enemies, but it''s better than staying here and waiting.¡±

    ¡°Terrance, Lena Eudenwulf, Selick and Hayne.¡± Owyn repeats the names he heard to acknowledge the order. ¡°I''ll do it. As soon as the sky becomes dark, I''ll plan things out with the others. Until then, I''ll stand right here and hope for your success.¡±

    Veros nods lightly. ¡°Thank you.¡± He takes one more deep breath, lifts his hand, and places his palm against the cloudy wall again. ¡°Let''s go.¡± He announces, and pushes forward, phasing through the intangible barrier. Atticus follows immediately after, then Kellar, then Royd, then Zyra, and finally Erik.

    With the six Mistwalkers on the interior side of the dome encircling Armasstadt Castle, the final stretch of their quest begins.

 XXVI. Finality (Section 1)

    After passing the grey barrier, the Mistwalkers find themselves at the southern half of the the wide, open, empty court that leads directly the castle entrance. Veros turns around to look back at Owyn, who, despite being mere inches away, is totally obscured due to the densely cloudy wall. He turns forward again, and is the first to begin his approach.

    ¡°Let''s go.¡± The veteran commands with unshaken purpose after he takes his first step.

    They quietly, slowly advance upon the huge building. For some reason, the white noise they heard coming from the giant stream of darkness has become faint and muffled, drowned out by the mere clacks of their boots against the giant stones slabs that are tiled beneath them.

    They scale one final, smaller case of a dozen stone steps that lead to the wide porch that greets castle visitors. Limestone columns thicker than most trees line the landing, holding up an intricately carved entablature that sports an exhausting amount of detail despite the average Armasstadt citizen likely never having a chance to see it up close.

    Tall iron double doors ¨C that feature engravings almost as elaborate as the entablature''s ¨C impede their path, but are already left slightly ajar. Huge door knockers hang from each side at above eye level, their heavy metal rings large enough to fit around the waist of an adult human. Through the narrow slit between the doors, they feel a very faint breeze of chilly ¨C nearly freezing air escaping from the interior.

    ¡°Let''s push this open.¡± Veros orders, standing to the right door and placing his palms against it. Atticus stands in front of the left and begins to push, as well. Slowly, the giant thresholds creak open with an accompanying deep scratching noise. They likely haven''t been moved from their unfastened position since the mist''s appearance.

    Once the doors are forced completely open, the six adventurers are bombarded with more cold air. They look into the massive, empty foyer that seems to have not had a single soul walk through it in months, and see more thick pillars directing visitors forward with a clearly designated path, and tapestries and banners decorating the walls. A coat of dust covers every conceivable inch of the floor ¨C including the wide, heavily embroidered red rug in the center ¨C so thick that it practically looks like ash.

    ¡°This place is... emptier than I expected.¡± Kellar comments, and his voice echoes gently through the empty hall.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Veros agrees. ¡°It seems as though not a single soul wandered through here in decades, let alone a mere six months. Still, Owyn mentioned there must be others here, so stay on your guard.¡±

    The sounds of their steps against the tile are amplified a significant degree as they reverberate through the drearily empty atrium. The eerie silence is a stark contrast to the sheer size of the room, as it undoubtedly saw much foot traffic before the mist came into existence. Directly ahead, facing back towards the entrance, are two wide staircases off-center from the middle of the room, but curve upward and join together at a platform that stands about twenty feet over the foyer floor, overlooking everything.

    ¡°That must be the platform leading to the ballroom.¡± Atticus surmises. ¡°He said to ignore it since it''s a dead end.¡±

    ¡°That might be true, but I''m still curious.¡± Royd remarks, carressing his beard pensively.

    ¡°If you want to climb more stairs, be my guest.¡± Kellar sourly comments as he walks forward, paying very little interest towards the ballroom.

    Not eager to exhaust his legs further, nor waste any time, Royd ultimately gives up on the idea of ascending the winding staircase and proceeds straight ahead with the rest of the group. They pass between more limestone columns that support the platform directly above, and continue down a hallway below the ballroom floor. The ceiling is quite high and there are several doors leading to smaller rooms that seem to be various studies, all as equally disheveled as the dozens of village homes the group have come across. Tables, chairs, knocked-over lanterns and spilled books are all covered with the same dense collection of dust.

    At the end of the hallway is another pair of double doors, this time sized normally and made of wood, with a glass window in the top half that allows people to peer out into the courtyard. Veros, who is still at the front of the group, takes a brief moment to ensure the coast is clear before pushing them open and walking out into the large, open area. There are two intersecting cobblestone paths cutting across the very center, leading the southern door ¨C which the Mistwalkers emerged from ¨C to the foyer towards the north. The east-west path connects two buildings that seem to be personal quarters for live-in personnel.

    The four quadrants of land created by the intersection are patches of grass with a single, partially withered tree in the middle of each. Stone benches were deliberately placed in the right areas where they would be under the shade cast by the oaks depending on the day, had they still been healthy, and had the sun not been largely obscured by the constant erupting darkness above.

    ¡°We''re close.¡± Veros utters, staring up at the beam towering over them, inching closer and closer to the source.

    ¡°Are you sure we shouldn''t worry about these other buildings?¡± Kellar asks, pointing to the towers to the east and west sides of the courtyard. They stretch eight floors up, with an exterior walkway along each level. Dozens of doors and windows face out towards the courtyard, but they''re all securely shut. ¡°Maybe they have valuables in them.¡± He attempts to slyly suggest they begin looting, but the others are clearly too focused ahead to care.

    ¡°They''re likely just living quarters for servants and visitors and such.¡± The veteran dismisses any need for a detour. ¡°We shouldn''t let ourselves get distracted.¡±

    ¡°...If you say so.¡± Kellar responds under a small, defeated sigh. He continues to examine the empty verandas, partially expecting something to emerge from the doors that are evenly spaced along the entire side of each tower. It''s no question that this courtyard must''ve been quite busy with activity from guests, servants, guards, and others walking from one point to another before the mist appeared. However, to see a space that crammed many individuals into a small area now so empty strikes a sense of unease into him that didn''t quite manifest itself as strongly when they were simply walking through abandoned villages.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The Mistwalkers continue along the path to the northern end of the courtyard, where another pair of tall metal doors await them. Though not as large as the ones at the very entrance of the castle, they still stand a significant measure over any of the adventurers, and are just as decorated with detailed engravings.

    ¡°This should lead us into the last foyer before the congregation hall.¡± Atticus remarks, admiring at the craftsmanship of the sturdy threshold.

    ¡°Let''s get it open, then.¡± Veros says as the approaches the left door and grabs the steel bar that crosses it at chest height. ¡°The hinges are on this side, so I guess we have to pull. Atticus, grab the other door. Everyone else, step back.¡±

    The knight grabs the long handle on the right door, and both men begin to pull. Slowly, the heavy slabs of iron creak open, blasting the other four standing before the entrance with another rush of cold air. Once the doors are open, they cautiously walk inside.

    The foyer is shaped like an extremely wide, long hallway with more thick limestone pillars lining the center path, connected together at the top by more entablatures. The path itself is another decorative rug, black and extremely detailed with complex, swirling patterns of silver and gold color. The room has an incredibly high ceiling topped by an oblong dome made of glass, allowing anyone inside, under normal circumstances, to catch a view the mountain peak overhead. However, the sight is now almost entirely blocked by the unending beam of miasma coming from the next room.

    The walls are divided into rectangular sections, each measuring at about twelve feet long and ten feet tall, bearing different, colorful fresco paintings of Armasstadt''s history, including portraits of past leaders and royal families, scenes from battle, the surrounding landscape, and major events that occurred within its boundaries. The artwork covers the entire bottom-most part of the east and west walls, leading all the way from one end of the long foyer to the other.

    ¡°This is quite a fancy place.¡± Royd comments, admiring the paintings and transparent dome above them. ¡°More so than many places in Evatica.¡±

    ¡°Hello?!¡± Kellar asks aloud at a raised volume. He listens as his voice echoes through the giant, empty hall. Once it finally fades away, he blows an impressed whistle. ¡°Damn, this really is somethin'' else. I''ve never been in a room this huge.¡±

    ¡°We can be in awe at the architecture later.¡± Veros remarks, growing more impatient, anxious even. ¡°We''re only steps away from the source of the mist; we can''t waste anymore ti¨C¡± After beckoning the others to follow him and turning to proceed onward, he immediately falls silent and stops walking. An expression of shock sweeps across his face, and the color nearly drains from it.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Atticus asks, prying his attention away from the paintings. Veros doesn''t answer verbally, but only points ahead. The knight turns towards the northern end of the foyer, and quickly unsheathes his sword. ¡°Shit...¡± He utters, taking a defensive stance.

    The others, also previously distracted by their surroundings, turn ahead to see what the ruckus is, and notice something they didn''t see as they were walking in: a giant, hulking guardian in weathered iron armor from head to toe, kneeling towards the door to the congregation hall. He''s as tall as the corrupted undead monastery knight the group encountered before Rosemont, if not slightly taller. Instead of a halberd, however, he''s armed with a giant two-handed greatsword, though his body has swollen enough to allow him to grip it with a single hand.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Kellar exclaims softly, grabbing his daggers in preparation for a fight. The others follow suit and scramble to steel their nerves and stand in a position favorable to their fighting styles ¨C Erik and Zyra at the rear, the others at the front, with Veros and Atticus in the middle.

    ¡°I figured it was a matter of time before we encountered at least one enemy.¡± Veros comments as he unsheathes his blade.

    ¡°Doesn''t seem he''s noticed us, though.¡± Royd says, eyeing the unmoving giant knight. ¡°What do we do? How do we approach this? He almost looks bigger than the one we fought on the way to Rosemont.¡±

    ¡°We''ll just have to employ the same strategy we used against the last one we fought.¡±

    ¡°This guy seems to have all of his armor on, though.¡± Kellar remarks, referring to the giant foe''s boots, a feature absent from their last fight against a giant, which was a large contributor to their victory. ¡°We might need to change things up a little for this one.¡±

    ¡°I''m not sure how...¡± Veros responds, reluctant to approach. ¡°We just have to stick to what we know. Just as before, Atticus and I will try to keep his attention as much as possible. Kellar, Royd, you two stay behind him and look for any opportunity to strike.¡±

    ¡°Strike where? We can''t focus on the back of his legs as easily as before.¡±

    ¡°Try it anyway ¨C specifically his left leg, since that''s his unarmed side, so he''ll have more trouble reaching you. The back of his knee may be armored, but it''s still considered a weak point. And until you get the opportunity to attack, stay out of reach of his sword.¡±

    ¡°Fine. Other weak spots in armor that we should know about before we start this?¡±

    ¡°The back of the thigh, the face, and the elbow. Those spots are usually the frailest parts of any plate armor. I imagine your daggers are probably quite ideal for puncturing.¡±

    ¡°Should I bother keeping my shield?¡± Royd asks, lifting the giant slab of metal in his left hand.

    Veros looks at it for a brief moment before shaking his head. ¡°It would probably be useless in this. Even if it takes the hit, the force would almost certainly still knock you over and make you vulnerable. Having both hands available to you will also allow you better use of your axe, which might be our best bet at doing the most damage. Just let Atticus and I keep his attention while you stay out of his reach until the opportune moment to strike arrives.¡±

    The woodcutter takes a deep breath. ¡°Fair enough.¡± He drops his huge shield and two-hands his axe instead.

    ¡°And what would you have us do?¡± Erik asks on behalf of himself and Zyra, who aren''t sure of how they''ll be of use in this fight.

    ¡°Honestly, I don''t know.¡± Veros responds sullenly. ¡°Aside from trying to aim for the weak spots I mention, I don''t think there''s much else for you two to do. Your bow might not be large enough to provide enough force to penetrate the cuirass. Zyra''s fireballs might be able to help, but not very consequentially. Worst case, you''ll probably just draw his attention away from us and towards you, instead.¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry.¡± Zyra responds, dejected at her inability to provide as much assistance as she''d like. ¡°I could help more if I knew more spells.¡±

    Erik nudges her with his elbow, drawing her attention. ¡°We can figure something out. Just stay patient.¡± She nods meekly in response.

    ¡°Alright. Is everyone ready?¡± Veros asks the other three men who plan to fight in close quarters while keeping a keen eye on the enemy ahead.

    ¡°As I''ll ever fuckin'' be.¡± Kellar gives a usual snide reply, soaked in apprehensiveness and a desire to avoid the conflict entirely.

    ¡°Let''s advance. Slowly.¡±

 XXVI. Finality (Section 2)

    With extreme caution, the four Mistwalkers approach the giant guardian at the other end of the long foyer, their footsteps thankfully muffled by the elaborate rug underneath them. As they draw closer, step by step, the towering knight refuses to budge. It''s hard to determine if it''s even aware of their presence despite their somewhat noisy entrance into the room. Erik and Zyra follow at a significant distance, aware of their lack of melee combat experience.

    When the men on point come close enough, the giant, kneeling knight finally begins to budge with an almost mechanical-sounding series of clanks of its armor shifting and moving. The thick layer of dust coating his entire body shakes off, and he slowly pushes himself up to his feet, with his massive sword clutched in his right fist, a fist which is as large as a grown man''s torso. Once he straightens his posture, he turns to face away from the staircase leading up to the congregation hall, taking an offensive stance and holding the greatsword ¨C which has a blade that is as long as Royd is tall ¨C as if it were a normal single-handed weapon.

    ¡°There.¡± Erik whispers to Zyra, pointing at the gargantuan warrior. ¡°His underarm area is completely unprotected.¡± He refers to the small spot in the armpit region where armor is usually unable to guard, which is something that holds true for the large foe before them, as his arm plates don''t directly connect with his cuirass.

    ¡°Will you really be able to hit that spot?¡± Zyra asks, doubtful that even the talented archer can reliably strike such a tiny area on a moving target.

    ¡°I have to wait and see how he moves and strikes. If he has the wherewithal to never lift his sword overhead, then it would be extremely difficult.¡± The noble patiently waits for the fight to begin so his analysis can start with it.

    ¡°Is there anything I can do to help?¡±

    ¡°I''ll need you to light my arrowheads on fire, just as before. Can you do that?¡±

    Zyra nods with confidence. ¡°Definitely.¡±

    The four men at the front continue their staredown with the silent, unmoving castle guardian. Veros and Atticus have their shields lifted, anticipating a powerful attack to be unleashed at any instant.

    It''s difficult to make out any details of the giant knight''s face, as it''s almost entirely covered by his helmet, which has only a thin, T-shaped slit to allow his eyes, nose, and mouth to go unobsctructed. His skin seems to be somewhat greyish, but not as decomposed as the undead survivors'' outside the castle.

    ¡°What are we waiting for?¡± Kellar whispers.

    ¡°It''d be foolish of us to try and strike first.¡± Veros answers without turning his head. ¡°We need to stay defensive until we develop a proper idea of what we''re dealing with.¡±

    Another pensive moment passes with both parties expecting the other to make the first move, and the silent, massive warrior suddenly jerks his body into a running stance and charges at the men at the front, lifting his greatsword overhead as he closes in.

    ¡°Move!¡± Veros loudly and urgently commands. He and Atticus leap out of the way of the huge knight''s path, successfully avoiding a powerful overhead slam of the gargantuan slab of sharpened iron, which strikes the stone floor with such incredible force, that the sliced rug reveals deep cracks that are left behind.

    ¡°Well, I guess that answers that.¡± Erik remarks on the ease of finding out if the huge knight would reveal his exposed underarm. He takes out an arrow and nocks it into his bowstring. ¡°Get ready to cast Combustion soon.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Zyra, preparing for the cast, preemptively makes the appropriate hand gesture.

    Meanwhile, Veros and Atticus quickly push themselves up to their feet after their narrow escape from what would''ve been a fatal attack. Unfortunately, they still find themselves within the reach of their enemy''s monumental sword, and need to get out of it as quickly as possible. Kellar and Royd were already making their way around to the giant guardian''s vulnerable back side, but of course is was too risky for them to make any moves at the moment of the attack.

    The cursed foe sweeps his greatsword in a wide horizontal arc to the right, towards Atticus, who turns his body in time to protect himself from the swing with his shield. However, it''s far too strong for him to redirect, and he''s pushed back by the overwhelming force, nearly falling off his feet entirely. He''s able to regain his footing and resume his defensive stance, but the enemy has already switched his target to Veros.

    The giant knight takes another horizontal swing at the veteran, who barely escapes its reach by inches, and the end of the arc nearly touches Atticus yet again. He follows through the swinging motion into a thrust, which Veros is barely able to deflect as the very tip of the blade grazes his shield, yet it still manages to knock him back a step.

    The massive brute stops his offense in order to obtain some situational awareness and see where the Mistwalkers are in relation to his own position. Atticus and Veros are able to stay in the southern side, which the foe is facing, and Kellar and Royd have managed to slip closer to the northern side, closer to the stairs leading to the congregation hall. The giant knight faces his back towards the eastern wall so he can try to keep all of the fighters in his field of view.

    ¡°It would be better if they could get his right side facing towards me.¡± Erik comments, anxiously waiting for the opportunity to loose an arrow. ¡°If I can get an arrow under its sword arm, this could be over a lot sooner. It might give them the chance they need to strike its weak points.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    The four men fighting the colossal enemy are constantly attempting to find chances to move in and quickly strike, but are immediately retaliated against by a wide, defensive swing as the corrupted knight simultaneously steps back from them.

    ¡°We need to bait him forward, away from the wall.¡± Veros says, keeping his shield up. ¡°We won''t be able to attack if keeps his back protected. Everyone move closer together, towards the west wall.¡±

    Veros, Atticus, Royd, and Kellar gradually regroup closer to the wall opposite the giant.

    ¡°Get as close together as possible.¡± The veteran orders.

    ¡°You sure that''s a good idea?¡± Kellar asks. ¡°It could cut us down in one swing.¡±

    ¡°I want to get him to try an overhead swing. It''ll be easier to retaliate against.¡±

    With all four fighters grouped together, almost in a single-file line, the huge knight is successfully fooled into being pulled away from the eastern wall. He tries to inch closer to them, and they respond by inching back, feigning fear and a lack of options. Again, the massive brute jerks forward and lifts his greatsword overhead with both hands, charging at the men with killing intent. However, an orange spot of light flashes across the air, and hits the unprotected left underarm of the foe. The searing arrowhead causes the hulking knight to groan in a low, scratchy, grotesque voice and curl his body to the side, stopping his rushdown towards the Mistwalkers and letting his left hand go of the sword''s handle.

    Veros is initially surprised, and looks over to the southern side of the foyer to see Erik nock another arrow. Wasting no time in capitalizing on the enemy''s momentary incapacitation, he urges everyone forward.

    ¡°Surround him! Royd, go for his left leg!¡± He yells his orders, and the men comply, flanking the guardian on all sides. The brawny woodcutter rushes to the enemy''s left, and lifts his thick, heavy axe to strike. The giant knight notices, and after pulling the arrow out from his underarm, lifts his clenched left fist with the intent of swatting Royd away. But before he can swing, a second fiery arrow rushes through the air and embeds itself into the knight''s helmet, though not deep enough to pierce its head.

    With the opponent now distracted by the second arrow, Royd bashes the blade of his axe against the back of the armored behemoth''s left knee, forcing it to bend and buckle underneath him. The monstrous being lets out another painful groan as Royd steps back to create distance once again. Kellar, now at the guardian''s back-right side, notices a crucial weak spot: a tiny gap between the brute''s helmet and his cuirass, allowing for an unobstructed strike to the back of his neck. Considering that the enemy is still reeling from the blow to the knee, the rogue decides that now is the best opportunity to attempt the attack, and rushes in with his dagger in an icepick grip, intent on stabbing it into the small, vulnerable, exposed skin.

    However, the tall warrior straightens his back, having begun to regain his bearings. Veros, seeing this, yells at his comrade, who is proceeding with his rushdown.

    ¡°Kellar, wait!¡± He yells out.

    Kellar slows his sprint, but it''s too late. The guardian swings his thick, tree trunk-like right arm around, bashing the back of his fist against Kellar''s body. The rogue turns himself and lifts his left arm in time to use it to take the brunt of the blow and protect his torso, but the sheer force of the punch sends him flying several feet through the air, causing him to land on his left shoulder with all of his weight. The harsh landing causes a repulsive cracking sound and the ex-mercenary quickly rolls off of it and screams.

    ¡°Ahh, fuck! Fuck!¡± Kellar yells in agony as his shoulder is clearly dislocated and unsettled from its usual position, lower than it should be. He wants to grasp it with his right hands, but knows it would only cause more pain, so he resolves to grit his teeth and try to crawl away, back to the eastern wall.

    Unfortunately, the giant knight has seen the rogue''s weakened state, and begins to push himself up to his feet once more while keeping a threatening eye on the injured Mistwalker.

    ¡°Zyra, light it!¡± Erik, witnessing the dangerous predicament Kellar has found himself it, urges the mage to light another arrow on fire.

    Making the appropriate hand gesture of closing her hand, but extending her thumb and index finger, Zyra aims at the arrow Erik is holding out and channels her focus. ¡°Combustra.¡± She whispers, and a small, controlled flame erupts from her fingertip, setting the arrowhead aflame.

    The noble takes aim and draws the bowstring back, waiting for the perfect instant to loose his arrow. The enemy, paying little attention to the other Mistwalkers, walks toward the downed rogue with a limp left leg, lifting his sword overhead with just his right arm to unleash another devastating swing that would, beyond a shadow of a doubt, kill anyone on the receiving end of it.

    ¡°Kellar!¡± Veros screams and takes off into a sprint to try and save his comrade, but as he passes around the huge guadrian, a third arrow cuts the air in an orange flash, this time striking the exposed right underarm of the foe, causing him to groan in pain again as he drops his arm, and his sword with it.

    ¡°Royd, take the right leg!¡± Veros issues another order as he rushes to Kellar''s aid.

    The brawny woodcutter rushes the wounded giant again and strikes the back of his right knee, once more causing his leg to buckle. Meanwhile, Veros grabs Kellar''s right arm and begins to drag him to safety, further from the behemoth''s reach.

    ¡°The back of the neck!¡± Kellar yells as he''s being pulled. ¡°There''s a small spot open on the back of his neck!¡±

    Atticus, who is still standing directly behind the gargantuan foe, notices the mentioned spot ¨C the tiny gap between the helmet and cuirass. The guardian is still incapacitated, unable to push itself up to its feet as quickly as it did before, due to both knees being damaged. The perfect opportunity is presenting itself to end the fight. The Threcian knight drops his shield, and uses his left hand to grab the blade of his sword, adopting a half-sword grip for a more precise attack. He runs towards the enemy''s back, and before the massive brute can stand, Atticus leaps forward with his sword raised, and uses his deadly momentum to drive the tapered end into the small gap leaving the back of the guardian''s neck unprotected.

    The towering warrior first screams in agonizing pain, and for a brief moment, flails around in a desperate attempt to fling Atticus off of him. The black-clad knight twists his sword, still deeply impaled into the giant''s neck, with an audible, disgusting crunch. The lumbering foe suddenly falls forward as limply as a puppet with its strings severed, hitting the ground with a loud thud, and blowing up a small cloud of dust from the force of its fall. Silence fills the massive foyer again as the Mistwalkers quietly wait to see if the beast still stirs, yet it doesn''t.

    ¡°Is that it?¡± Royd timidly asks, walking up to the corpse as Atticus pushes himself off. ¡°Is it dead?¡±

    ¡°It better be.¡± Atticus answers, stepping on the brute''s head as leverage while he pulls his sword from its neck.

 XXVI. Finality (Section 3)

    ¡°That was quite a leap.¡± Erik comments on his teammate''s finishing strike as he approaches the giant, motionless body. Zyra is accompanying him.

    ¡°And those were quite some shots.¡± Atticus returns the compliment.

    ¡°Are you alright, Kellar?¡± Veros asks, assisting his companion to his feet.

    ¡°Absolutely fuckin'' not.¡± Kellar groans with a painful scowl, gently clutching his upper left arm. ¡°My left shoulder is already dodgy as hell. I didn''t need it to get all fucked up like this again.¡± He looks to the shoulder in question, and his upper arm is certainly not in the spot it''s supposed to be in.

    ¡°What do you want to do?¡± Veros asks, unsure of how to treat the injury.

    The rogue heaves a long sigh. ¡°We gotta pop the bastard back in. Can you do that for me?¡± He asks with a certain tone of familiarity that suggests this has happened before, maybe even multiple times.

    ¡°I can, but... are you sure? That''ll be as painful as it was when it dislocated, if not more so.¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I know. Just give me a second.¡± Kellar detaches his dagger''s leather sheathe from his hip and places it in his mouth. He closes his eyes and takes several very deep breaths. Then, he nods nervously. ¡°Go.¡± He says, his voice heavily muffled by the small scabbard tightly clenched between his teeth.

    Veros sighs, showing a hint of reluctance. ¡°Alright...¡± He gently grasps Kellar''s upper left arm, and takes a deep breath himself. ¡°I''ll count down. Three... two... one...¡± Veros jerks his hand up and resettles Kellar''s shoulder with a grotesque snap of his arm resettling into its proper position, causing everyone to wince and the rogue himself to let out a fierce, neck-straining scream.

    ¡°Aaagh! Fuck! Fuck!¡± His muffled curses echo throughout the empty foyer. He punctuates his profrane tirade with several continued loud groans before finally calming down and removing the leather scabbard from his mouth.

    ¡°Will you be able to hold a shield, at least?¡± Royd innocently asks.

    Kellar looks up at him with a scornful glare. ¡°No, you undercooked roast, I fuckin'' won''t.¡±

    ¡°We don''t know what''s behind that door.¡± Veros remarks, looking at the tall double doors leading into the congregation hall. ¡°Don''t overexert yourself, okay?¡±

    ¡°I''ll just stay in the back and let everyone else do the work.¡± Kellar facetiously responds, however there''s little else he can do, considering his injury.

    ¡°Let''s finish this, then.¡±

    After their brief rest, the Mistwalkers proceed to the northern end of the foyer, and up one last case of stairs that lead to the towering wooden threshold that grants entry to their final destination. Similar to the iron ones they''ve seen throughout the castle, the double doors here are covered in more intricate carvings and molds of weaving patterns and symmetrical borders, with two large vertical metal handles near the center. Veros stares at the crack in the center, separating the two sides, and takes a deep breath.

    ¡°If anyone has anything to say, now''s the time.¡± He announces without turning around. ¡°The source of the mist is beyond these doors, and we don''t know for sure if we''ll have another chance to turn around.¡±

    The six journeyers are unable to come up with any final words, their minds preoccupied with the mere fact that they''re at the last door of their dangerous, long, grueling quest. They''ve narrowly escaped multiple deadly ambushes, some of them have suffered injury, and they''re half-starving due to five days of strict rationing. None of them can conjure the right words to punctuate their arduous mission with; only a looming sensation of anxiety hangs over them as they nervously await their last obstacle, which lies beyond this threshold.

    ¡°Let''s just finish what we''ve started.¡± Atticus bluntly comments, breaking the uneasy silence with a voiced desire to charge ahead.

    Veros gives a small chuckle, amused at his comrade''s bluntness. ¡°Right.¡± He heaves a sigh and grasps the two handles and pushes forward with his entire body, slowly budging open the doors. Another blast of cold air is felt, and as the two tall doors spread open more and more, the source of the grey miasma comes into view. The audible hum of the eruption that they heard outside of the foggy wall near the entrance also returns.

    The interior of the congregation hall is another atrium with incredibly high ceilings and domed glass roof, and more limestone pillars along the east and west walls. Another black rug rests underneath the long, sturdy wooden table in the center of the chamber, surrounded by ornate chairs meant to rest the bodies of nobles and the archduke''s personnel who would partake in the meetings here.

    ¡°There it is...¡± Zyra utters, in equal parts amazement and intimidation.

    At the opposite side of the hall, on a raised platform ten feet high, was a glowing black crystal, suspended about four feet above the platform floor, blasting the endless stream of mist up and through the shattered glass dome above.

    ¡°So it really is a black arcane crystal.¡± Veros comments, unsure of whether he should be surprised at the revelation or not.

    ¡°They actually managed to draw power from it somehow,¡± the pyromancer comments, ¡°but obviously couldn''t control it. How did they manage it?¡± She stares in total bewilderment and fascination. The Mistwalker part of her is eager to destroy it, but the arcane student part of her wishes to study it.

    ¡°Wait a second.¡± Kellar interjects and points to the furthest end of the the table. ¡°Who are they?¡±

    The journeyers look to find two corpses collapsed forward and lying over the surface of the tabletop at the opposite end, facing each other. They''re the only bodies in the room that can be seen.

    ¡°Those clothes...¡± Veros comments, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. The corpse on the left is wearing dusty blue robes bearing intricate patterns and embroidery, similar to the monks the group had encountered on the way to Armasstadt. ¡°Is that... Selick?¡± Its face is far too decomposed to be able to make out its identity; practically no flesh is left on it.

    ¡°Then could the other body be Advisor Hayne?¡± Atticus inquires, pointing at the corpse on the right, wearing a long black coat. Like the other, its far too decayed to be certain, but given the information they know, who else could they be? They''re unsure of what to think, having expected to enter the room and find the two men gleefully controlling the mist''s source.

    ¡°I''ll check on the corpse on the right. Atticus, you take the left.¡± Veros commands, drawing his sword once more in case the cadavers reanimate.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    The veteran slowly approaches the body in the long black coat while Atticus approaches the one in blue robes. Veros gets within arm''s length distance of the unmoving corpse and kicks the foot of the chair it rests in to see if it stirs, but it doesn''t. Atticus, with his shield on his arm, uses the rim of it to nudge the robed body. It also doesn''t stir in the slightest.

    ¡°Strange.¡± Veros comments, easing his stance. ¡°I don''t see any wounds on them, but it looks as though they''re dead for good.¡± He grabs the corpse in the coat by the left shoulder and turns it over to get a better look at its front, revealing a golden metal pin on its chest depicting a set of balance scales.

    ¡°That pin...¡± Erik comments, narrowing his eyes. ¡°That''s an advisor''s mark, worn by every advisor to an archduke. The king''s advisors wear it too, though one slightly different.¡±

    ¡°This truly is Hayne, then.¡± Veros utters, giving one last glance over the rotted remains of the shady advisor they can''t even question.

    Atticus, after pushing over the body in blue robes, notices something, as well. ¡°This one''s wearing a medallion similar to the ones we found on the monks.¡± He points to the accessory hanging from the corpse''s neck.

    ¡°Does it depict a portrait of Orrith on it?¡± Erik asks, referring to the King of the Gods.

    The knight inspects the medallion further, and notices a profile portrait of an older man with long hair and long, braided goatee. ¡°It does.¡± He answers with a nod.

    ¡°Then that must be Selick. Only Grand Monks are given medallions with Elder God Orrith on it.¡± The noble clarifies. ¡°The regular monks are given medallions that depict Enma, the goddess of judgement and civilization ¨C Orrith''s daughter.¡±

    The Mistwalkers look back and forth between the long-dead and long-withered remains of Selick and Hayne, bewildered by the discovery after having assured themselves that these two men were the masterminds in control of the mist''s presence. Though they might have been at some point, it certainly isn''t in the way they had assumed. With both of them long dead, it will be impossible to receive any amount of answers from them, nor will they receive the just punishment they deserve under the eyes of Yhordish law.

    ¡°To whom do I owe this pleasure?¡± A low, commanding voice suddenly booms from above them.

    The six adventurers look up at the platform that oversees the ground floor, and from behind the black crystal and it''s erupting mist steps out a middle-aged man with ornate, regal clothing, short black hair, and short beard. Unlike the corpses at the table, he doesn''t seem undead at all, let alone severely decayed. On the contrary, he looks quite healthy. However, one stark difference is clear: his eyes glow a sinister, unnatural yellow, similar to all the undead they''ve encountered, despite his appearance.

    ¡°I''ve known it was only a matter of time before I was reached.¡± The man continues, speaking mostly to himself with a disappointed expression. ¡°I hoped it wouldn''t be this soon.¡±

    ¡°Archduke Westshire?¡± Veros utters, shocked at the man''s sudden appearance. He tries to grasp the right words to accompany his confusion. ¡°What... How are you alive? Did you have something to do with all of this?¡± Still overcome with surprise, he asks the first questions that come to mind.

    ¡°You know of the black arcane crystals, yes?¡± Westshire replies, pointing toward the floating rock near the end of the platform. ¡°We''ve spent so long being afraid of them ¨C afraid of their immense power. Due to that fear, however, men have lost their ambition to learn and control them.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that''s a ''yes.''¡± Kellar snidely remarks under his breath, his eyes narrowed with deep suspicion and ire.

    ¡°What the hell are you talking about, Westshire?¡± Veros asks, growing more impatient and angry. ¡°Why have you done this?! What''s the purpose?¡±

    ¡°I fear death.¡± The archduke sullenly replies, casting his gaze down. ¡°The cold embrace of it, the idea of being stuck in an endless nothing, the terrifying thought that my name would eventually be spoken one last time before never being uttered again. I know that I''m not the only one who fears such things.¡±

    ¡°Are you seriously suggesting that you''re using that thing for immortality? To save yourself from life''s natural cycle?¡± The veteran snidely predicts the rest of the archduke''s tale.

    ¡°No. Not just for myself.¡± Westshire answers with overbearing seriousness. ¡°I had assumed that if the the black arcane crystals were powerful enough to take countless lives away in an instant, then perhaps they are powerful enough to prolong them, too. By a stroke of luck, we were able to control it after breaking it out of its ornate housing ¨C the ivory, jewel-covered orb it was found in. If I could save myself from the end of my mortal coil, then perhaps I could save others too.¡±

    Atticus angrily steps forward. ¡°You didn''t save a damn thing!¡± He shouts with an unprecedented amount of passionate vitriol. ¡°All you did was cause a plague! You''ve snuffed out hundreds of thousands of lives! How the hell can you call that ''saving'' anything with a straight face?!¡±

    ¡°On the contrary, I''m sharing my gift with the world.¡± The archduke responds with such candid callousness, he seems as though his point of view is simply the most obvious one. ¡°Obviously, when you attempt to control such an immense source of power, you can''t expect to perfect things the first time. The deaths caused by the mist so far are simply collateral damage for my greater plan. Don''t you also fear death? Eventually, I will be able to utilize the crystal and all of Yhordran ¨C perhaps even the world ¨C will enjoy the splendors of eternal youth... Eternal life. It''s a beautiful thing.¡± The archduke rambles with a wry smile.

    ¡°Beautiful?¡± Veros echoes, repulsed by the sentiment. ¡°You''re turning our home into a barren wasteland. Your home! These people aren''t ''alive'' because of the mist, they''re just shambling husks of who they once were!¡±

    ¡°The man''s lost it.¡± Kellar remarks, shaking his head and scowling in disgust. ¡°He''s been stuck in here for months, staring at that crystal. His mind is gone ¨C corrupted.¡±

    ¡°Fools.¡± Westshire contorts his face into a frown and condemning glare. ¡°Don''t you wish to escape the clutches of finality? To elude nature''s mortal coil? I will the one to control the uncontrollable! I will be the one to learn the unlearnable! And it will be for the good of man!¡±

    ¡°What you''re offering isn''t a blessing, Archduke.¡± Atticus steps forward, growing even more argumentative. ¡°You expect us to die, become rotting puppets, and call that immortality? What''s the purpose of ''living'' with no autonomy? Trading our free will to limp around as a mindless corpse isn''t a trade at all. It''s a takeover of our humanity.¡±

    The archduke turns his nose up in disdain. ¡°I don''t expect a band of dogged commonfolk to fully grasp the altruistic meaning of my ambitions.¡± He walks away from the edge of the platform to stand behind the black crystal. ¡°I sought to escape death, and in my success, I found a way for others to escape it, too. Together, we can all avoid the harsh ending of the cycle of life.¡± He raises his hands and cups them around the crystal without directly touching it. His eyes narrow to a devious leer reeking with ill intent. ¡°But if you don''t wish to accept my gift willingly, then I''ll just have to force it on you.¡±

    Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind explodes from the crystal, kicking up dust and tiny shards of glass, and pushing the Mistwalkers off balance. They lift their hands and arms up to protect their faces. The beam becomes louder, faster, and denser, pushing out the ominous dark grey fog at an alarming rate.

    ¡°Recently, I''ve discovered a way to directly control the undead who are under the influence of the mist!¡± Westshire proudly proclaims, his booming voice managing to overtake the sound of the endless eruption of miasma. ¡°As of right now, my reach isn''t terribly far, but I can still give you an example!¡±

    ¡°What is he talking about?!¡± Kellar yells, trying to maintain his footing as he resists the powerful winds.

    ¡°I don''t know!¡± Veros answers back, similarly trying to withstand the gusts.

    The Mistwalkers look around the room in an attempt to gauge whatever it is that Westshire is trying to do, but nothing seems to be happening. However, a faint, distant collection of noises grabs the attention of Zyra, who''s still near the door. She turns around and peers back into the grand foyer in time to see dozens upon dozens of frantic, feral undead entering from the courtyard, pouring out from the east and west buildings they initially ignored.

    ¡°Behind us!¡± The mage screams and points, grabbing the attention of the others.

    ¡°Close the doors! Hurry!¡± Veros commands as he and the others sprint for the tall wooden threshold.

    The stampede of rushing undead continue to make a beeline for the congregation hall, practically stepping over one another in a ravenous, bloodthirsty fashion. They even climb over the limp body of the giant guardian in their one-track desire to devour the six adventurers. The front-most undead manage to reach the bottom of the staircase leading to the double doors before they''re finally closed.

 XXVI. Finality (Section 4)

    ¡°What do we do?!¡± Royd asks, leaning his bulky frame against the left door, hearing and feeling the violent slams of the mindless army on the other side.

    ¡°Use your weapons to bar the door! Hurry!¡± Veros orders, placing his sword through the doors'' iron handles like a barricade while simultaneously pushing against the increasing force of the undead.

    Royd follows suit with his axe, as does Erik and Zyra with the swords at their waists that they never had the chance to use. As soon as Atticus can volunteer his own weapon to help with the barricade, Zyra, who is helping with pushing the door, points behind him with an alarmed, frightened expression.

    ¡°Behind you!¡± She screams, straining her neck to ensure her voice is the only thing anyone could hear, particularly over the sound of feral screeches and powerful gusts.

    The knight turns and sees the corpses of Selick and Hayne, fully reanimated, shambling toward him and close enough to nearly reach him. The closest is the decomposed Hayne, who limply throws his bony body forward. Atticus reacts quickly enough to seize the cadaver by the throat, but as he just placed his sword through the double doors'' handles, he''s currently weaponless as the corpse tries to flail at him with the second one approaching.

    ¡°Atticus! Here!¡± Kellar, with his back still pressed against the door, holds out one of his daggers, hilt forward.

    The knight grabs the weapon from his teammate''s hand and stabs the end of it directly into the heavily rotted advisor''s eye so deeply, the dagger''s handguard is just about touching the front of his skull. He pulls it back out, the blade now drenched in dark blood and specks of brain matter, and the corpse falls over limply. Selick''s weak remains immediately closes the distance afterward with a lunge of his own. Atticus catches the deceased monk by stepping forward and plunging the dagger into its neck, letting it fall forward into his arms before twisting the dagger out and letting the foul mass hit the floor.

    With the two hostile undead in the room eliminated, the knight falls back to pressing up against the right door, next to Zyra. The relentless pounding and pushing from the horde on the opposite side continues to persist and grow stronger as the seconds pass.

    ¡°What in the gods'' names do we do?!¡± Erik yells, pushing the door with all of his weight.

    Veros tries to look around the room from any route of escape, but finds no hint of one. ¡°We can''t escape! This room is a dead end!¡± He worryingly announces with a defeated shake of his head. The only other thing in the congregation hall that even resembles a way out is the broken dome above, but, obviously, reaching it isn''t an immediate possibility.

    ¡°So what are our options here, then?!¡± Kellar replies, hoping for anyone to conjure any plan that can save them.

    ¡°We need to stop him!¡± The veteran answers while staring at Westshire, who is still on the platform, manipulating the black crystal. ¡°We need to stop him and destroy the crystal! Or we die!¡±

    ¡°But... how the hell...¡± The rogue barely utters, any semblance of hope quickly draining from his face as he continues to lean his back against the door and clutch his wounded arm.

    Erik, desperate to do something other than stand and barricade the entrance, momentarily pushes himself off of it and nocks an arrow into his bowstring. He lifts it, takes aim at the Archduke ¨C specifically at his head ¨C and looses the arrow. Unfortunately, its caught by the overpowering force of the miasma beam before it comes anywhere close to the demented ruler, and is carried up and through the broken glass dome overhead.

    ¡°Short-sighted imbecile.¡± Westshire hurls an insult as the archer slumps back against the threshold to resume holding it closed, completely deflated by the utter failure of his last-ditch attempt to stop the insane Archduke.

    The six Mistwalkers can only quietly weigh their options and watch as the fog spews from the crystal into the air at an incomprehensible speed. If this continues, not only will they all perish, but the mist outside will spread faster than it had been, and overtake the southern barrier sooner rather than later.

    Atticus casts his gaze down, trying to find the will to focus and tune out the horrific noise of the thuds and growls coming from the other side of the tall wooden doors. He looks at his left wrist, where the four-stone pyromancy bracelet still rests. He had wanted to avoid using it, as he didn''t wish to put more of a strain on his mind due to his lack of practice. He turns his head to Zyra, who has her two-stone bracelet still clasped around her right wrist. Same as the others, she''s urgently pushing back against the small army trying to force their way in.

    ¡°Zyra!¡± The knight calls out. ¡°Give me your bracelet!¡±

    ¡°What?!¡± The mage responds, perplexed. ¡°Why?!¡±

    ¡°I have a plan! Trust me!¡±

    A blank look of confusion and apprehension washes over the pyromancer''s face, but she complies anyway and removes her bracelet and hands it to Atticus. He kneels down and places her bracelet on the floor and suddenly uses the pommel of Kellar''s dagger to bash it, cracking it.

    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Zyra yells, shocked at the sight.

    However, he doesn''t answer. Instead, he bashes it again, this time successfully shattering it, causing the two arcane stones to pop out.

    ¡°I''m sorry!¡± He finally looks up and responds. ¡°I''ll get you a new one later!¡±

    He picks up the first stone with the thumb and index finger of his right hand and gradually places it over one of the two empty slots on his own bracelet. The stone doesn''t set in with Atticus''s help; instead, it''s practically sucked into the slot when about a centimeter above it. The knight picks up the second stone and allows it to set into the second vacant slot. With this, all six slots on the bracelet are filled, and Atticus is effectively in control of a six-stone bracelet.

    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Zyra asks, clearly perturbed at the mere idea of him using the item.

    ¡°I''m going to destroy the black crystal!¡± Atticus replies matter-of-factly.

    ¡°Do you even know the spell to do that?!¡±

    He nods confidently. ¡°I do! Remember when I said I stole my old teacher''s bracelet because I wanted to cast stronger spells?! That''s one of the ones I studied! I still remember it!¡±

    ¡°But... But you''re out of practice! You almost collapsed when casting a four-stone spell! This could kill you before you even complete the cast!¡± The mage, despite the dire situation she and her comrades are in, tries to convince him to not go, as she knows the potential consequences.

    ¡°I have to try! It''s our only option! Stay here and hold the doors shut!¡±

    The knight pushes away from the tall doors, and begins to fight the overbearing gusts created by the black crystal. The chairs around the table finally begin to tip over and slide across the surface of the tiles underfoot and knock into Atticus''s legs as he inches his way to the western staircase leading to the platform above.

    As he struggles to fight against the wind, the horde of undead on the other side of the door are slowly beginning to overpower the force of the five other Mistwalkers trying to push back. The double doors spread apart, with the gap between them steadily growing wider, placing an increasing strain on the weapons threaded through the handles. Foul, decomposed fingers and hands are beginning to poke through the gap, even several feet above as the feral group have begun to climb over one another. Their repulsive groans and shrieks grow louder and more aggressive.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Atticus eventually reaches the bottom-most steps of the staircase leading up to the platform and grasps the stone railing as he lifts his feet and scales it. The wind created by the crystal grows significantly stronger with every foot closer he becomes, threatening to carry him off his balance and throw him back to the ground level. He manages to reach the first landing on the way up, and turns to right to ascend several more steps.

    ¡°What do you hope to possibly accomplish, Threcian?¡± Westshire, standing unaffected on the platform, proceeds to taunt the knight as he endeavors to merely pick up his feet and plant them on the next step. ¡°Don''t you understand the discovery I''ve made? Can''t you comprehend the power I''ve learned to manipulate? No one before me has been able to control a black crystal, but now I have one in the palm of my hands, and I can use it ensure that all living beings can continue to exist, even after death ¨C a secret that not even the Gods know!¡±

    After a significant amount of struggling, Atticus reaches the top of the final staircase, stepping onto the landing overseeing the rest of the hall below. However, with no more railings to assist him with his footing, he continues to fight the overpowering winds on his own as he walks to the center of the platform, throwing his weight forward every time he attempts to advance.

    Below, at the congregation hall''s entrance, the double doors continue to slowly spread open at the incredible force of the relentless horde from the foyer. The gap between the doors has grown wide enough for entire arms to reach in and flail wildly in a mindless effort to attack the Mistwalkers. The weapons placed through the handles as make-shift barricades are starting bend under the immense weight of the countless undead pushing forward. The five adventurers strain every muscle in their body trying to push back, but their efforts are starting to grow more and more futile. Their faces are red with stress, and droplets of sweat moisten their foreheads.

    ¡°Atticus!¡± Veros, with nothing else to do, calls out despairingly. ¡°Hurry!¡±

    The knight closes the distance between himself and the rampaging black crystal. He extends his left arm forward and spreads his fingers as he reaches for it. When he comes enough to touch it, he curls his middle and fourth finger while keeping his pinky, thumb, and index fingers extended. He turns his hand counterclockwise slightly so the extended appendages make a triangle.

    ¡°What are you...¡± Westshire utters, uncertain of what Atticus is attempting to do. He looks at the knight''s wrist and sees the six-stone bracelet. The Archduke suddenly grows fearful and stops controlling the crystal to seize Atticus by the arm. ¡°No!¡± The psychotic ruler yells as he tries to wrestle the knight''s hand away.

    Now simultaneously trying to overcome the powerful wind and also physical resistance of Westshire attempting to push him off, Atticus finds himself in an extremely tough position. He can''t even begin his cast until the Archduke is incapacitated or indisposed. Luckily, he still clutches Kellar''s dagger in his right hand. Without a moment''s hesitation, using a normal forward grip, the knight quickly stabs the pointed end of the sharp blade into the lunatic''s right eye and pulls it back out in one fluid motion.

    ¡°Aaagh!¡± Westshire screams in excruciating agony. Normally, such a strike would kill a man ¨C even undead ¨C but it doesn''t do as such to the Archduke who is simply too corrupted in both body and mind. Fortunately, it''s still enough for him to reel back and clutch his wound, falling to his knees next to the regal throne. An obscene amount of darkened blood slides down his face and begins to pool up underneath him.

    With his greatest distraction gone, Atticus resumes his cast and adopts the hand gesture he had before being interrupted. Still resisting the storm-like gusts, he inches his hand forward enough to finally be able to touch the surface of the crystal with the very tip of his index finger. Though his eyes are narrowed due to the irritation of the wind, he stares at the ominous dark rock with burning determination and focus, and tries to channel his concentration as he takes deep breaths.

    However, time is of the essence as Westshire''s injury is quickly healing at an unprecedented rate. He still has his hand over his tender wound, heaving painful breaths and teethy hisses, but the bleeding has already stopped, and his right eye in the midst of repairing itself back to a fully functional state.

    ¡°Neus...¡± Atticus slowly begins reciting an incantation, still pressing his finger against the crystal. ¡°Arcanus...¡± He forces out the words in a slow, labored pace, as if each syllable piles another tremendous weight on his chest. He takes a deep breath and pauses to regather his focus once more before uttering the last word. ¡°Excira...¡±

    The six stones in his bracelet flair up with a vibrant red glow, and suddenly the tip of his finger is drawn to the crystal like a magnet, and he''s unable to pull himself back. An overwhelming and painful amount of energy is felt surging through his hand ¨C not from it, but into it. He leers at the rock and tries to maintain composure as he attempts to hold the cast long enough for the process to be complete.

    ¡°No...¡± Westshire, his wound already totally healed, manages to bring himself back up to his feet with the assistance of the sturdy throne next to him. ¡°I won''t let you ruin this. I won''t let you take away the greatest discovery known to man.¡± He condemns the knight as he reaches to the back of the majestic chair and retrieves a sheathed longsword that had been kept out of view.

    Its a very finely crafted weapon clearly meant for royalty, featuring a handguard made from silver, a smooth wooden hilt, and a pommel that has a sapphire embedded into it. He grips the handle firmly and discards the scabbard, revealing a beautiful, razor sharp double-edged blade that''s been so thoroughly polished, it''s as reflective as a mirror. With his wound and subsequent healing process seemingly taking some energy out of him, the Archduke unsteadily fights the gusts to try and stop Atticus a second time.

    Meanwhile, the doors into the room are still being pried open by the angry undead horde. Some are able to even slip their heads through the widening gap between the doors. The five Mistwalkers continue to overexert themselves until every muscle in their body burns like fire. They''re on the brink of collapse, and it''s only a matter of seconds until the feral reanimated cadavers begin to slip in and overwhelm them.

    ¡°Fuck... Fuck...¡± Kellar curses under his frantic breaths, pressing his back against the left door, still clutching his injured shoulder.

    ¡°Not like this...¡± Veros heaves an exhausted, frightened whisper. ¡°Not when we''re so damn close...¡±

    Royd, the most brawny of the group, is no different in forcing his weight against the door. In his desperation, he throws his head back and looks up through the broken glass dome overhead, where clear view of the miasma''s eruption apex can be seen. However, something is amiss. His face grows pale and his eyes widen with fear ¨C fear of something unexplainable, of something more monstrous than the ravenous horde that awaits the group on the opposite side of the doors.

    ¡°Gods...¡± Royd utters in a timid voice only barely distinguishable. ¡°What is that thing?¡± He asks, staring up at the broken roof with terror-stricken eyes that don''t blink.

    ¡°What?¡± Veros, who is closest to the woodcutter, responds in confusion. He notices his comrade''s upward gaze and follows it. Then, he too becomes silent in horrified awe.

    At the top of the erupting mist''s stream, which passes the peak of Mount Armas, a massive greenish-grey tentacle merges from the opaque, spreading cloud. To be so gigantic in the sky, and to seem so close, it must be at least a half-mile long. Worse still, it seems to continue shaking more and more out of the hidden portal behind the dense cloud. It slithers grotesquely, and its skin looks wet. It isn''t attached to a face or any other discernible body part. It''s simply a gargantuan appendage slowly descending from the sky. One by one, the other three Mistwalkers at the door soon notice their comrades'' preoccupation with whatever''s above them, and turn their heads upward all the same.

    The blood drains from their faces and words fail them all as they stare at the unholy creature in the sky, despite the whirling pool of questions that spin around their mind. What is that thing? Where is it coming from? How can the black crystal summon such a monstrosity? The terrifying entity strikes such a deep unease into their hearts, it almost completely distracts from the ferocious undead mere inches away from. All they can do is gaze at its repulsive figure and hope that, if this is truly their end, they meet their fate before they''re cursed with the sight of its whole self and what it may do to the land once it''s out.

    Meanwhile, after several seconds of maintaining the spell, the black crystal and Atticus''s bracelet begin to emit a bright white light, which grows more luminous as more time passes. However, the knight is already feeling the negative effects of continuously casting such powerful magic. Blood starts to fall from his nose, and he begins to lose control over his eyes, which begin to roll upward uncontrollably, and his eyelids flutter against his will. He periodically tries to wrestle them back under control by closing and opening them forcefully, but it doesn''t help for long.

    After fighting the strong winds for a moment, Archduke Westshire finally comes within arms'' reach of the knight, wearing a hateful scowl.

    ¡°Stop!¡± He screams in a commanding, authoritative voice. ¡°I won''t let you take away my gift to the world!¡±

    The crystal and stones gradually become brighter and brighter, but Westshire takes his sword and raises it over his head, despite his unsteady footing, intent on cutting off Atticus''s arm entirely to stop him from completing the spell.

    ¡°You will accept the fate I give you!¡± The Archduke screams as he begins to swing his blade downward, but the motion is cut short by the crystals and bracelet growing blindingly bright, completely overtaking the entire room, washing every inch of the space in pure, unblemished white. Atticus, Westshire, the other Mistwalkers, and the horde that was about to successfully force their way in ¨C all are devoured by the ceaseless light, and everything falls silent.

 XXVI. Finality (Section 5)

    A strange feeling of serenity washes over Atticus, who still can''t see anything but white, nor hear any sound resembling Westshire''s ramblings, his teammates'' screams, or the feral groans of the undead horde. There''s only still, warm air that isn''t tainted by the mist, so it doesn''t sting his chest as he breathes.

    After a brief a moment, he''s able to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is the endless azure of clear late afternoon skies ¨C not a single cloud in sight. He feels a very faint dampness enveloping part of his body, then when he regains the wherewithal to simply turn his head, he realizes he''s lying on his back in very shallow, near-body temperature water. He sits up to assess the situation he''s in, but also notices that he''s no longer in his armor. Somehow, his attire has been switched completely to a normal white cotton shirt and trousers. He''s even barefoot, as well. He has no boots, no sword, no shield, and no bracelet.

    Confused, and almost frightened, Atticus quickly stands up and looks at the environment: an endless, shallow ocean of warm water that''s barely an inch deep. Though he feels some sort of ground beneath his feet, he can''t even see it due the water being completely reflective of himself and the blue sky above. He looks towards the horizon and sees a strange landscape he''s never witnessed before: mountains that are extremely far off in every direction, yet behind them still are gigantic vertical pillars that tower over them, reaching higher than any building he''s ever seen by a hundredfold. However, due to being incredibly far, they''re partially obscured behind the blue color shift of distance, so he can''t make out what they''re made of. He can''t explain why, but he feels as though if he were to walk in any single direction, he would never reach those mountains or those pillars no matter how much time passes.

    Still curious about his surroundings, he turns his body to see what could be behind him, expecting more shallow ocean and distant mountains. However, he instead takes in an eyeful of an awe-striking sight: a massive moon that takes up nearly an eighth of the blue sky. It''s so incredibly close, that an unforeseen amount of details can be made out from the surface of it ¨C ridges, craters, mountains, valleys ¨C everything is as clear as day. He doesn''t know if it''s the same moon he''s been seeing every night for his entire life, but it''s a wondrous view either way.

    After an extended moment of basking in the beauty of the natural satellite above, Atticus manages to finally pry his eyes downward to see more of the horizon. As expected, he sees more pillars and mountains very far away, but something different catches his gaze: a human-shaped figure dressed in white about a hundred or so feet away. With nothing else to possibly interact with, he approaches the mysterious person, each step causing a long parade of ripples across the surface of the shallow water.

    As he draws closer, he notices that the unknown individual ¨C presumably a woman ¨C is wearing a long white dress, with the end of her skirt grazing the surface of the water at her feet. She''s facing away from Atticus, her back towards him and face pointed slightly upwards toward the giant moon. He can make out her long, black hair tied into a single, thick braid that touches down to her lower back. Eventually, he reaches her, but still maintains a distance of several feet away out of sheer caution.

    ¡°Hello?¡± The knight meekly calls out, unsure of how to gain her attention or if her attention is something he should want at all.

    ¡°It''s a beautiful place, isn''t it?¡± The woman responds in a warm, welcoming tone without turning around. She speaks in a fashion of familiarity, as if she isn''t a stranger. ¡°The things we liked the most about the Threcian landscape were the lively ocean at the north, and the endless miles of still, flat plains to the south. It''s almost like this place combines the two, don''t you think?¡± She lifts her hands and extends her arms to her sides, as if presenting the entire environment to Atticus.

    ¡°Who are...¡± The knight utters, a conflicting expression of equal parts curiosity and confusion washing over his face.

    The woman finally turns around, revealing a beautiful, sharp, young face. Her skin is lightly tanned and totally unblemished, save for a single beauty mark in the middle of her right cheek. Her pink lips are curved into a smile, and her green eyes are radiating with an endearing and enthusiastic kindness.

    ¡°Who am I?¡± She asks back, teasingly. ¡°Don''t tell me you''ve forgotten me already.¡± She makes an ear-to-ear grin, accompanied by a small giggle.

    Atticus is at a loss for words. His brow is furrowed upwards, his mouth is agape, and his eyes begin to glaze over. He slowly lifts his hands, wanting to reach out to her. After a quiet moment, he''s able to finally speak.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    ¡°Isabelle?¡± He says, taking a step forward. ¡°How...¡± Overcome with emotion, the knight is unable to continue his sentence.

    Rather than waiting for him to approach, Isabelle takes the initiative and casually walks over to him, grabbing his hands as soon as she''s close enough. With a prideful grin, she confirms his thoughts.

    ¡°It''s me, Atticus.¡± She brings a hand up to caress his face. ¡°I''m here.¡±

    ¡°How is this...¡± The knight utters, looking down.

    For a brief instant, he had entertained the thought that this was some sort of vision, maybe even a malicious one created by the Archduke to fool him. However, as he watches his fingers intertwine with hers, he notices that he can feel her skin on his. He can feel the palm of her other hand gently petting his cheek. He can sense the warmth coming from her face. He can''t help but close his eyes and revel in the sensation he had thought he lost a year and a half prior.

    ¡°I... I''m so sorry I didn''t save you.¡± He whispers in a pained voice the first thing he always wished he could say to her. ¡°I tried so hard...¡±

    ¡°I know you did, Attie.¡± Isabelle reassures him. ¡°But you shouldn''t punish yourself over it, okay?¡± She pushes his chin up to look him in the eye after he hangs his head. ¡°If curing me was ever within the realm of possibility, then you would''ve been able to do it. I know you would have. But it wasn''t. That''s not a failure on your part; that''s just nature. So stop blaming yourself.¡± She adopts a stern tone to practically command him.

    ¡°But...¡± Atticus almost wants to argue, but, knowing her, it''d be pointless. Thus, he nods timidly and accepts her words. ¡°Alright.¡±

    Satisfied, Isabelle wraps her arms around his neck and presses her chest against his in a tight embrace. He gladly returns it. They hold each other closely, and for a very pronounced moment, as if to make up for lost time.

    ¡°I hope you''ll return to Threcia soon.¡± She remarks as she rests her head on his shoulder. ¡°I''m sure everyone is quite worried about you ¨C your old instructor and commander, your fellow guardsmen, and my family too, I''m sure.¡±

    ¡°I''ll go back once I''m finished with my business here in Yhordran.¡± He answers, his eyes closed again to savor the hug. After another indulgent, peaceful pause, he opens them again as though he remembers something important. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Something''s been... bothering me ever since you passed.¡± The knight tries to fight the lump in throat as he recalls her final days. ¡°Did... Did you know I was there? Did you know I was next to you?¡± His breaths become uneasy and his voice starts to shake. ¡°I was at your bedside during those last days you were still with me, and I''ve always wondered if you realized I was there.¡±

    Isabelle nods. ¡°I knew. Of course I did.¡± She takes both of her hands and places them on his cheeks. ¡°I wasn''t able to move or speak then. But my eyes don''t need to be open for me to know when you''re near.¡± A warm, loving smile crosses her face, and Atticus can no longer hold back his tears. He sobs softly as he wraps his arms around her again and buries his face in her shoulder.

    ¡°Until my final moments, you were always my knight in scary armor.¡± She says, partially teasingly. After another minute of a heartfelt embrace, she places her hands on his shoulders to gently push him back and gaze into his eyes for one more considerate plea. ¡°I want you to live on, and I want you to do so with peace in your heart. Okay, Atticus?¡±

    He nods, fresh tears still glistening on his cheeks. ¡°I will. I promise.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Isabelle returns his acknowledgment with a confident nod of her own.

    The knight bitter-sweetly takes in one final image of her lively, gorgeous smile, and suddenly, his eyes truly open. With a tiny gasping inhale, he finds himself back in Armasstadt Castle''s congregation hall, staring at Zyra''s shocked face.

    ¡°Atticus!¡± She exclaims, softly caressing his cheek with her hand. His head has been resting on her lap for an unknown amount of time.

    ¡°Where...¡± The knight faintly utters, slowly regaining his composure. He notices the mage''s moistened eyes and expression of great relief, then looks up, behind her head, to see the broken glass dome over them. This time, it features no more erupting miasma bursting through it. Instead, only the mountain''s peak and blue skies behind it are seen. The other five Mistwalkers approach the half-conscious knight.

    ¡°You''ve come back to us.¡± Veros says with a content nod as he kneels down and pats Atticus on the shoulder. ¡°You did great, Atticus. You finished it.¡±

    ¡°I don''t know how you did it,¡± Royd speaks up, ¡°but you destroyed that sodding black crystal. Take a look.¡± He points towards the knight''s feet.

    Atticus lifts his head slightly to see what remains of the black crystal, and finds that it is indeed resting on the ground in multiple pieces. Completely drained of all its arcane energy, it doesn''t even look like an arcane crystal anymore, but a normal, rough stone you''d be able to find on the ground anywhere.

    ¡°That psychotic bastard Westshire fell over like a sack of rocks as soon as you destroyed it, too.¡± Kellar remarks, pointing to Atticus''s left, behind Zyra.

    The knight turns his head and sees the Archduke''s withered, rotted body near the throne. The crystal must''ve been maintaining his healthy facade somehow, covering up the fact he was as much of a decomposed corpse as the others.

 XXVI. Finality (Section 6) [End]

    ¡°What about the bracelet?¡± Atticus asks, looking back at Zyra.

    ¡°It''s... completely destroyed.¡± She answers, picking up the remains of the accessory and showing it to him. In her hand rests the shattered metal and broken stones. ¡°I suppose it might be possible to resynthesize the stones, but I wouldn''t hold my breath. Copper bracelets aren''t really built to handle such stress.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it''s a necessary loss.¡± The knight heaves a sigh, not in mourning for the bracelet, but in equal parts relief and surprise at the mere fact that it''s over ¨C their long, dangerous journey has finally come to an end.

    He''s also somewhat disappointed that his meeting with Isabelle had ended so quickly. He doesn''t know if it was truly a conversation with his lost love in the afterlife, or a lucid dream with an image of her telling him what he wants to hear. Either way, he finally feels the sense of closure that he had been searching for. He gazes up at Zyra''s bright blue eyes, and admires her for a moment. Her lips curve into a small smile, and he realizes he should ask about one semi-crucial detail.

    ¡°How long have I been out?¡± He inquires.

    ¡°Only about ten minutes or so.¡± The pyromancer answers. ¡°We saw you were still breathing, so we decided to wait a bit and see if you''d come to on your own.¡±

    ¡°Think you can stand?¡± Veros asks.

    ¡°Barely.¡± Atticus responds. ¡°My head feels like it''s splitting open.¡±

    ¡°Here, I''ll help you up.¡± Veros places his head under the knight''s right arm as he tries to stand up. Atticus can''t help but rub his temples as he pushes himself to his feet with his partner''s assistance. He momentarily clenches his eyes closed and hangs his head due to the sensitivity towards going from a resting to standing position.

    With Veros''s help, Atticus accompanies the others back down to the ground floor of the room and approach the door, which has been shut again entirely, everyone''s weapons still held across the handles. There''s no more sign of a vicious horde on the other side, neither their relentless beating of the threshold, nor their disgusting gnarls and growls.

    ¡°Erik, help me open this.¡± Veros orders as he hands the knight over to support himself on Zyra''s shoulder.

    Veros and Erik remove the weapons from the handles, handing them back to their owners, and they each take one door, preparing to open both simultaneously.

    ¡°Ready? Now.¡± The veteran and archer begin to pull the double doors inward, slowly allowing everyone to peer out into the now silent foyer.

    As they expected, the horde of feral undead under the mist''s control has become inactive, every single reanimated corpse was on the floor, totally still, limply lying over each other like a giant pile of ragdolls. The trail of a hundred or so bodies goes more than halfway into the hall, so densely packed that, until then, it''s difficult to even see the rug underneath them all.

    ¡°What a mess.¡± Kellar comments, making a slight scowl at the collection of bodies. They''re all so decomposed, it''s impossible to distinguish any unique features.

    ¡°Watch your step.¡± Veros warns as he leads the way through the corpse-littered foyer.

    Everyone cautiously walks over the bodies, as there''s no room to actually plant their feet on the floor itself. After making their way across, they cross the courtyard, back into the hall underneath the ballroom, through the first foyer, and through the front entrance. Once outside, they''re greeted by a clear blue sky, something they hadn''t seen in its unobscured majesty since before their quest began days ago.

    They approach the top of the steep trail leading back down to the city''s lower rings, near the giant wall and portcullis. However, the first thing they see while up there, is Owyn''s remains lying off to the side of the top-most steps, having waited for their success as he promised he would. Like the hostile undead inside the castle, Owyn and the other remaining Armasstadt survivors were kept ''alive'' by the unexplained powers of the mist. Without it, he had become a normal, decayed cadaver.

    Veros kneels next to the deceased mage with sympathetic eyes. ¡°You''ve been released from your curse, friend. Thank you for helping us near the end.¡± He straightens out Owyn''s body, turning him to lie on his back instead of his side, and then places the deceased mage''s hands over one another on his chest. Veros gives one last thankful pat on the shoulder before standing and rejoining the team, who are taking the opportunity to gaze over the wide valley without the ominous dome obstructing their vision. Their elevated point of view grants them the opportunity to see a great amount of Yhordran''s north ¨C more than what was previously allowed due to the mist''s existence.

    ¡°A beautiful sight.¡± Erik comments, nodding in contentment.

    ¡°Aye.¡± Royd nods in agreement. ¡°It''s nice to finally see the world again, instead of just grey all around us.¡±

    ¡°It''s quiet, though. Not many people around to celebrate with us.¡± Kellar remarks, referring to the very distinct lack of other citizens around. They''re the only living souls in any direction for miles, and it makes them feel rather morose and lonely despite their success.

    ¡°Lots of lives were lost over the last six months of waiting for this day to come.¡± Veros laments. ¡°It''ll certainly take many, many years for Yhordran to repair all of this damage, and it will continue to be felt for centuries to come, but we stopped it before it reached the point where reparation could no longer be possible.¡±

    ¡°I wonder what''s going to happen now.¡± Zyra ponders aloud, still holding Atticus''s arm over her shoulders, supporting him as he still recovers from his daze. ¡°What''ll happen to the north? And how will our lives change once people know what we''ve done?¡±

    ¡°Well, whatever fame or reward we get for our efforts, I''m definitely taking as much advantage of it as possible.¡± The rogue proudly announces. ¡°I want free ale every time I visit the tavern, and I want my home paid for in full. No more rent. I''m sick of it.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Hopefully this makes my job at the city guard easier.¡± Veros admits.

    ¡°I don''t really have much to ask for.¡± Erik confesses. ¡°I don''t think anyone would question my ambition or my ability to succeed without my family''s influence now.¡±

    ¡°I''m very curious of the world of magic.¡± Royd comments and looks at his two comrades who know how to cast pyromancy. ¡°I wonder if my daught would be interested in going to the univeristy if I brought it up to her.¡±

    ¡°That''d be lovely.¡± Zyra encourages her brawny teammate. ¡°I think it''s worth a go, though I supposed I''m biased in this matter. And you?¡± She turns to Atticus. ¡°What do you want to do?¡±

    ¡°I think it''s time I go back Threcia.¡± The knight answers solemnly, still gazing to the south. ¡°I don''t know if I''ll stay there for long, but there are some people there who are probably worried about me. I want to see them one more time. And I''ll take you with me, of course.¡± He says to Zyra with a small smile.

    ¡°I''d like that.¡± She responds with an eager nod.

    Kellar suddenly lets out a pained groan while clutching his injured shoulder. ¡°Gods, my arm''s fucked up all to hell. Last time this happened, the physician told me next time might require surgery to truly fix it. I don''t look forward to that.¡±

    ¡°I''m sure my wife will have some choice words for me for getting hit by an arrow.¡± Royd laments. ¡°Even though I''m lucky to be alive to begin with.¡±

    ¡°I''m still rather surprised that the source of the mist ended up being a black arcane crystal.¡± Zyra interjects, looking downward with a thoughtful gaze. ¡°It feels like a terrible opportunity was lost to find out how they work and how to control them. The first time a person was able to do it, and it ended up being someone who had lost their mind and sought only to serve themselves.¡±

    ¡°It''s a sad reality that not all inventions or discoveries are made with altruistic intent.¡± Veros comments. ¡°It feels like a lost opportunity indeed, but there''s never a guarantee that great power will ever be lucky enough to fall into the hands only of someone benevolent.¡±

    ¡°I suppose you''re right. Maybe someone else in the future will be able to find and use one, and share their knowledge. It could be a matter of time.¡±

    Veros, considering the power of the black crystals, turns and looks back up at the high, broken glass dome of the congregation hall. Where the powerful torrent of miasma once was, only the Mount Armas resides. His gaze follows the mountainside upward, before going above its peak and into the sky, where the eruption was hitting its peak and dispersing in all directions.

    ¡°What of that creature we saw?¡± The veteran utters aloud, referring to the grotesque massive tentacle emerging from the discharge''s apex. He partially expects to see it again in mid-air.

    ¡°Are we so sure it was even real?¡± Royd asks, having been the first one to notice it. ¡°It could have been a heinous vision caused by the crystal.¡±

    ¡°I suppose I can''t deny the possibility.¡± Veros turns back around, hoping to put the horrific sight behind him. He finds little point in asking questions about the entity now. With Westshire dead and the black crystal destroyed, the likelihood of receiving any answers would be close to non-existent.

    ¡°So, what do we do now?¡± Kellar asks with a sigh shrug to no one in particular. ¡°Do we head back south or do we stay here and wait for other people to come to us?¡±

    ¡°Well, it''s a bit too late in the day to leave.¡± Veros replies, looking at the sun about to touch the horizon line.

    ¡°Well, there''s no more undead, so we don''t really need to worry about traveling at night.¡± Erik remarks with an important detail.

    ¡°Oh, that''s right...¡± The veteran utters, having the usual travel procedures still ingrained in him. ¡°Well, with the mist gone, I''m sure some people plan on making a beeline here ¨C like Lena, for example. I''m sure she''s already on her way, same with Legion officers and soldiers.¡±

    ¡°If we leave, people might miss us and simply arrive without knowing what happened here.¡± Atticus says. ¡°It''s probably better if we stay. Though we might need someone to go south to get food, anyway.¡±

    ¡°True. We wouldn''t want anyone to come here and be clueless as to what transpired. Is everyone alright with staying?¡± Veros''s question is met with a unanimous nod of heads. ¡°Alright, well, let''s find a place to stay, then. I imagine an inn would be closer to the lower rings.¡± He begins walking down the steps leading to ground level, with most of the other following him.

    ¡°Hold on a second.¡± Kellar stops him. ¡°Why don''t we just stay inside the castle?¡± He points back the exquisite and vacant palace. ¡°Do we really need to go all the way back down to the bottom rings?¡±

    ¡°All of our belongings are with our horses, and our horses are near the gate.¡±

    The rogue sighs. ¡°Fuck''s sake. I was hoping to look around the houses around here for something valuable.¡±

    ¡°You''re still on that?¡± Royd interrupts and looks back, slightly annoyed. ¡°You just said you''d ask to have your home paid for as repayment for our success. I can''t imagine that being too unreasonable a request, so why else would you need to loot now?¡±

    Kellar shrugs. ¡°There''s nothing wrong with taking home a small bit of insurance.¡±

    ¡°Galliford''s beard...¡± The brawny man shakes his head in disapproval. ¡°This was tolerable behavior before, but now that the mist is gone, it''s just tactless.¡± He gives a dismissive wave and resumes walking.

    ¡°I just...¡± The rogue almost begins justifying himself, but stops and simply sighs. ¡°Fine.¡± With the begrudging attitude he''s maintained since the first day of the quest, Kellar follows the rest of the group down the massive path of stairs.

    ¡°Atticus?¡± Zyra speaks up softly to the physically indisposed knight still leaning on her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

    ¡°Yes?¡± Atticus responds.

    ¡°Did you... experience anything while you were unconscious? A dream, maybe?¡±

    The knight, surprised at first to hear such a question, stays quiet for a brief moment. He wishes to appease his partner''s inquisitive nature, as she was obviously going to have questions to ask relating to the crystals, but he also wants to keep his experience to himself. He still has no clue as to how ''real'' the meeting with his long-lost love was, but it was something that was clearly meant solely for him.

    ¡°A dream, yes.¡± Atticus answers after his pensive silence.

    ¡°What was it of?¡±

    ¡°Nothing special, really. I simply had a conversation with someone I hadn''t seen in a long time.¡± He tries to stay slightly vague, but also detailed enough to be helpful.

    ¡°And what did they say?¡± Zyra continues with keen interest.

    A small smile crosses the knight''s face. ¡°Everything I needed to hear.¡±

    While his answer doesn''t necessarily satisfy her curiosity to its fullest extent, the young pyromancer resolves to accept it, fully aware of the emotional burdens her comrade currently ¨C or perhaps formerly ¨C carried. However, in her contemplative silence, she figures she could easily wager a guess as to who the person in his dream may be.

    With their mission complete, and Yhordran''s mysterious threat quelled, the Mistwalkers begin their long trek back to the entrance of Armasstadt so they can await the eventual arrival of those curious of the identities of the continent''s saviors, and just as importantly, its condemners.

    The fog that plagued their home for nearly seven months had been vanquished, but with no small sacrifice. Many lives had been lost and many villages and settlements had become ghost towns. The journey to undoing such immeasurable destruction to civilization would be long, but thanks to the efforts of six individuals who dared to continue when most people stopped, an even greater doom was avoided. Tales will undoubtedly be told of the actions of a foreign knight, a Legion veteran, a pyromancy student, a woodcutter, a rogue, and a noble who walked into the dense, impenetrable veil of the grey mist, and reemerged as heroes.

 [The Future of BI&C and My Next Projects]

    It''s been a couple weeks since Black Iron & Cinder ended, and I''m sure some of you are waiting for news on the two upcoming projects I made mention of. I''m happy to say that it''s now the time to go into them. But first, I also want to go over my plans for BI&C, specifically what I''ll be doing with it now that it''s complete.

    I still fully intend on putting BI&C up for sale, almost certainly on Amazon for Kindle and paperback. Before all of that, however, I''ll be going back and doing one more edit of the story, to hopefully fix any and all grammatical and spelling errors and change and add some dialogue and details. I won''t do any major plot restructuring or similar monumental tasks. How long will this take? Well, I don''t want to take any attention away from my other two projects, but I don''t want to fiddle around and waste time, either. Let''s give myself a generous window of one to two months. By then, the new edit should hopefully be complete and the book will be up for sale for you all to read on your devices or even on good old paper.

    Now, what are the next two projects I''ve been mentioning so much? The first one is something very, extremely different from Black Iron & Cinder, if only because I wish to try my hand at a different setting.

    The title is The Wolf of Asano. It''s not fantasy. In fact, it''s set in the very real city of Los Angeles, but a fictionalized version of it where Asian gangs (Japanese, Korean, Chinese) have a major foothold in large parts of the city. The story takes place in the somewhat near-future of 2039, where almost every vehicle on the road is a self-driving taxi, sophisticated cybernetics require an interface to be installed in your brain stem, and life-like androids initially made for labor on the Mars colonies are available for consumer purchase (though for an extremely pretty penny). The plot isn''t some hardcore militaristic sci-fi action thriller, but a mystery where a Japanese-American yakuza by the name of Atreus Watanabe -- member of the feared clan called the Sanada-gumi -- is tasked with solving the murder of an employee of the nation''s leader in cybernetic technology, because it unfortunately took place within Sanada-gumi territory, and no one knows why.

    So, yes, it''s extremely different from Black Iron & Cinder, as I said. If you''re not into this kind of thing, I won''t hold it against you. Admittedly, despite how I described it, it doesn''t lean into the futuristic stuff as much as the mystery itself, which may be good or bad depending on your expectations. To be honest, I don''t know if it''s sci-fi enough to even be suitable for RoyalRoad, but I''ll bring it here anyway. This setting is uncharted territory for me, so I can''t guarantee it''ll be better than BI&C overall, but I hope you''ll stick with me regardless.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    My second project is what some (or most) of you, as BI&C readers, have likely been hoping for, and I knew you''d want it so I went ahead and started planning stuff out somewhat early on.

    The title is Born From the Storm. It takes place years after Black Iron & Cinder, and on the southern continent of Drangvus, which was mentioned in passing once or twice (sorry to anyone who hoped for it to be set in Threcia. Maybe some other time). When an eerie, unexpected storm strikes the seaside town of Adolport, the young King Josyph Garland III of the capital city of Alum Corva begins a hasty relief mission to help the town rebuild, as its bustling fishing and transportation businesses are key contributors to the kingdom''s economy. On his behalf, King Josyph sends the somewhat easygoing Rowan Pike -- the king''s "Right Hand" -- to oversee the mission. Once there, Rowan discovers the terrible extent of the damage caused by the storm, and must take the reins of restoring order. However, as the days pass, a strange sickness that causes indescribable nightmares and unquenchable thirst begins to spread through the town like a plague. Rowan and some of the relief volunteers take it upon themselves to investigate the matter, going so far as to assume that perhaps it was the storm itself that was the cause of it.

    Sufficiently eerie, yes? I''d like to continue -- for now, at least -- the motif of dark/horror fantasy for this series, which honestly doesn''t really have a name right now. While BI&C was a sort of zombie apocalypse-inspired horror, I want to lean into Lovecraftian horror for Born From the Storm.

    There you have it, folks: a more detailed look of my upcoming fictions. The Wolf of Asano will be beginning here on RoyalRoad in the near future, before BI&C''s Amazon launch, so please keep your eyes peeled for it. I can''t give a window for Born From the Storm yet, because I still have a lot of work on it ahead of me, but I''m feeling pretty confident with what I''ve done so far.

    That''s all for my update! Once again, keep an eye out for The Wolf of Asano and another update after that in which BI&C will be available for purchase!

 [BI&C Out Now on Amazon! The Wolf of Asano Begins!]

    Hey, everyone. Long time, no see! I know I left you wondering about when I was starting my new fiction and when Black Iron & Cinder would be available for purchase for two months, but I have returned to give you a definitive answer, and it''s...

    RIGHT NOW! BI&C is now available on Amazon for both Kindle</a> (click here for UK</a>) and paperback</a> (click here for UK</a>, it might say ''Currently Unavailable'', but give it a day or so).

    The ''Look Inside'' function should be working now for the Kindle version, allowing you to peek inside and see its contents. It''s not yet working for the paperback version, but it should in a day or two. If you''re wondering how it looks, here''s a picture</a> I took of my own proof copy. As you can see, it uses a traditional novel format with chapter beginning, indented paragraphs, no empty line breaks, etc.

    Now, you may be wondering: what''s different? I did say I''d make some changes, and no doubt you''d like to know what they may be. Well, changes are not too significant. Obviously, there''s typo/spelling/grammatical fixes, but there''s also some additional or changed dialogue and descriptions. Nothing terribly huge, only small details meant to help the worldbuilding or atmosphere. In total, there''s about 2000-2500 added words spread across the entire new draft. As I mentioned before, I wasn''t going to make any significant structural changes or embark on a massive rewrite.

    But yeah, that''s the gist of it! BI&C is now considered truly complete. It would seriously mean a lot to me if you bought a copy (or, in the case of Kindle Unlimited subscribers, just simply read it), and also recommended the book to family, friends, coworkers, random people on the street -- whoever may enjoy dark fantasy with a focus on characters. Any bit of word of mouth would be amazing and greatly appreciated, as I''m just one random dude with no industry connections in the slightest. But regardless, thank you once more for reading my work and keeping up with the news!This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Now, moving on to another crucial topic: the beginning of my new fiction, The Wolf of Asano. The first chapter is out now on RoyalRoad, and can be read here!</a>

    The update schedule will vary a bit from BI&C, which was updated every three days, each new chapter between 1500-2000 words in length. For TWoA, however, it''ll be updated every Friday, with each chapter at around 3000 words each -- sometimes a little over, sometimes a little under. If you read my previous announcement here on BI&C''s page, you''ll know what the story will be like. But for the sake of convenience, I''ll paste the synopsis here:

    <blockquote>

    Los Angeles, 2039.

    Almost every vehicle on the road is a self-driving taxi, sophisticated cybernetics require an interface to be installed in your brain stem, life-like androids initially made for labor on the Mars colonies are available for consumer purchase (though for an extremely pretty penny), and Asian gangs have a major foothold in large parts of the city, including the largest and most powerful international yakuza clan, the Sanada-gumi, who operate in the district of Kyoba.

    A Japanese-American by the name of Atreus Watanabe -- member and second-in-command of the Sanada-gumi''s Asano family -- awakes one morning and is ordered to meet with the influential gang''s senior advisor to the chairman. To his surprise, he is tasked with solving the murder of an employee of the nation''s leader in cybernetic technology and the Sanada-gumi''s number one source of income, Atmos Dynamics, because the event unfortunately took place within Sanada-gumi territory, and no one knows why. He must discover the culprit as soon as possible, before the clan''s already unstable relationship with the corporation is thrown into the fire and causes them unprecedented financial devastation.

    </blockquote>

    If you like the sound of that, please head over there and follow! It''s the beginning of a new arc in my time on RoyalRoad!

    Thank you once more for reading my work and sticking with me throughout the adventure through Yhordran! Now it''s time to solve a mystery in 2039 L.A.!

 [Surprise: New sequel novella available! Patreon overhaul! Shirts!]

    NIGHT OF THE MIMIC

    I. An Invitation to a Game

    Evatica. It is the massive capital city that rests near the middle of the continent of Yhordran, populated by well over half a million men, women, and children from a nigh uncountable amount of backgrounds, and divided into a wide spectrum of social classes. Near the center of its tangled clusters of bustling streets, before the messy, gritty slums begin to transform into the neat and glamorous Nobles'' Quarter, there lies a humble, single-floor home that appears too rich for the blood of a common man, yet too small and reserved for the gaudy tastes of a flamboyant aristocrat. It is a red brick house among a long line of red brick houses of similar architecture, protected by a meager, yet serviceable waist-high metal gate that stretches to the end of the street.

    On this chilly late autumn morning, the owner of this particular house is beginning his day in his study at the front of the building, with a modest but sweet breakfast of tea, fruit, and cinnamon bread. He sits in his favorite cushioned chair, dressed in his most comfortable morning robe, warmed by the small flame in his fireplace, re-reading a beginner''s book on alchemy, though he is not so much an alchemist as he is simply a man who wishes to sate his curiosity and fill his mind with basic knowledge that may or not be significant to him in the future. In an almost organized rhythm, he alternates between a sip of tea and bite of his fruit or bread after he completes a page. His raven black hair is still unkempt from his recent awakening, but he finds the time to bring his fair-skinned hand up to his face to gently and unwittingly brush his thick goatee for every intriguing sentence he skims through ¨C an idiosyncrasy that''s been with him since the first whiskers spawned on his face in adolescence.

    He is Brandon Senza Brenwick, a private inspector who, at thirty-six summers of age, boasts twenty years of experience in his field, dating back to his budding apprenticeship under the tutelage of the late Oswald Ewan Horikson. Since the old man''s passing five years ago, Brandon has been continuing to work tirelessly to live up to his mentor''s lofty expectations. He was most aggressively bombarded with requests two years ago, during the six months of the encroaching miasma from the north, when crime had launched upwards in frequency under the hysteria of impending doom. Since the Heroes of Yhordran had quelled the threat, however, the influx of clientele had drastically slowed, and his income slowed with it. While he has since been able to enjoy more time for relaxation, he has begun to find himself silently hoping that the Gods of Idrid would grant him a case to truly test his skill.

    After he completes a certain page of his book, Brandon releases an idle sigh, and turns his head to look out of the nearby window that grants him the appropriate amount of daylight for his reading. Through the glass, he sees passers-by paying no mind to his home, giving not so much as a fleeting glance or double-take to confirm that this indeed the place of Inspector Brenwick. That is, until the loud creak of his front door being opened is heard.

    In walks another man, closely familiar not just with Brandon''s occupation, but his habits and investigative process ¨C his friend and investigative partner, Cullen Kimsa. He stands about two inches taller than Brandon''s already slightly-above-average frame, and thanks to his generous genes of both Tenumburan and Native Yhordish lineage, he also boasts a sturdy, muscular build. He''s dressed casually for someone hoping to work today, in a form-fitting white linen shirt tucked into his black trousers. He has dark blonde hair and an ever-so-lightly tanned complexion. He''s twenty-eight years old and began working with Brandon after the late Oswald Ewan Horikson''s passing; thus, his experience in the field isn''t as extensive, but he''s proven to be a valuable asset and comrade.

    ¡°Late morning, I take it?¡± a more high-pitched voice than one would expect emerges from Cullen''s lips after he notices his partner''s lack of formal wear.

    ¡°Just counting the minutes until someone walks in with something for me to do,¡± the sour Brandon responds along with a sigh and another wanting gaze through his window.

    ¡°Well, if it''s all the same to you, it seems the parcel deliverer stopped by,¡± Cullen comments, lifting two parchment envelopes and setting them on the table before his partner. ¡°You should get more into the habit of actually checking for letters when you wake, especially if finding a new case is so important to you.¡±

    Ignoring his partner''s lecture, Brandon leans forward and grabs the first letter he sees ¨C the top of the small stack of two. It''s presented in a fanciful envelope, addressed to the inspector, of course, and from an individual named Horace Thorne. Upon seeing the name, Brandon''s eyes widen slightly in surprise. He turns the envelope around to find a wax seal, which he breaks to retrieve the message.

    ¡°What''s it say?¡± Cullen asks out of curiosity.

    ¡°It''s... an invitation,¡± Brandon answers after skimming a portion of the small message. ¡°An invitation to Horace Thorne''s birthday party. He''s turning fifty. And according to this, he seems to be planning for it to be quite the celebration. Says he''s invited many others, and also two of the six Heroes of Yhodran. And a famous cook will be preparing dinner and dessert.¡±

    ¡°Truly?¡± the well-built junior inquires, seemingly equally amazed, and finally sitting down on the vacant chair across the table. ¡°Does it say which heroes, exactly?¡±

    ¡°If I recall, two of them are up in Armasstadt, assisting with the rebuilding efforts. Beyond that, I couldn''t guess,¡± the inspector answers as he re-reads the message again.

    ¡°Why would Horace Thorne send a birthday party invitation to you? Did you work with him before?¡±

    ¡°Yes, with Master Oswald,¡± Brandon confirms with a slow nod, not taking his eyes away from the letter. ¡°It was one of our last cases before he left this world. It was a rather simple one: find his stolen blue gold necklace that he recently imported from Rhodanion. Turns out one of his sons absconded with it for a night to impress his friends by pretending it was his. You should''ve heard the verbal lashing that boy received. Still, you''re right to be shocked by this,¡± he adds before finally setting the message down back on the table. ¡°I''m astonished to receive it, too. I haven''t had so much as an idle conversation with the man since then, but he seems to still feel grateful. And luckily for you, the invitation mentions bringing a plus one.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Cullen asks, pointing his own chest with a dumbfounded expression. ¡°You want to take me to a party of barons, lords, and aristocrats? I don''t think I could fit in that kind of environment, Brandon. Don''t you have a woman you could bring?¡±

    ¡°After that sordid business with Emelia a few months ago, I''ve been taking a break from romance,¡± Brandon responds with a dismissive wave of his hand. ¡°Besides, it could be an educational experience for you. When do you ever receive the opportunity to fraternize and mingle with highborn people?¡±

    ¡°Never,¡± the junior inspector replies quickly. ¡°I''ve never considered myself some ally to nobles. I barely even knew how to read until you started teaching me.¡±

    ¡°There''s nothing wrong with expanding your social circle a bit, my friend. Besides, this is an excellent opportunity to elicit some business proposals or case requests. We need new clientele. We can''t continue to sail on the money we made during the mist plague forever.¡±

    ¡°I recall you constantly moaning about being too burdened by all that work,¡± Cullen remarks facetiously. ¡°Now you''re wishing to go back to it?¡±

    ¡°No, I''m simply saying that I would like our cases to flow in at a more consistent pace. It''s impossible to guess when the next one may come in. They''re anywhere from a few days to several weeks apart. I can hardly stand the anxious wait anymore,¡± Brandon rants before looking down at the table and remembering he had two messages for him. Thus, he leans forward and grabs the second, which is presented more plainly.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Well, I don''t disagree with you on that. The adventurous side of this job is what enticed me to begin with,¡± the lowborn man comments.

    Cullen looks out the nearby window and, as his partner did mere minutes before, begins hoping for any one of the passing citizens to approach the door with any request in mind. After a brief, pensive moment, he turns his head again to look at Brandon, and is immediately bewildered at his senior''s expression. The inspector glares at his second letter, his face contorted into a visage of multiple emotions, particularly overwhelming confusion, shock, and even a tinge of disgust and perhaps anger.

    ¡°Brandon?¡± Cullen finally speaks up, clearly expectant of some horrible reply. ¡°What in the hells is wrong? What does that letter say?¡±

    Brandon doesn''t respond immediately, at least not with words. He jolts up from his chair, pushing it back with the force of his straightening legs, keeping his eyes firmly glued to the message clutched tightly in his hands. In addition to the previously mentioned emotions that seem to be portrayed in his indescribable expression, a spark of disbelief slowly begins to overtake them.

    ¡°It''s...¡± the inspector begins to speak in an utterance, hardly capable of pushing out any words at all in his gobsmacked state. ¡°It''s... from Ilbern Sefnir,¡± he finally gives some clarification.

    ¡°I recall you mentioning that name once before, but I don''t think it was recent. Who is that again?¡± Cullen asks, not trying to make light of the potentially worrying situation, but he is still perplexed all the same.

    ¡°He''s... a famous burglar,¡± Brandon explains, still without prying his eyes from the letter. ¡°Or at least he was, before he seemingly disappeared quite some time ago, before you and I met. He loved preying on nobles and ridding them of their possessions, but he wasn''t averse to thieving from lower class individuals either if he wanted to. Master Oswald and I spent years chasing after him, but only ever came close to apprehending him a sparse few times before. I may have mentioned him to you only in passing before, as he is a subject that tests my patience.¡±

    ¡°And what does he say in that message?¡±

    The elder inspector, again, doesn''t respond verbally. Instead, he simply hands the message over to Cullen to read with his own eyes.

    <blockquote>

    Dearest friend and rival Inspector Brandon Senza Brenwick,

    If you''re reading this message, then it is likely it was coupled with an invitation to Sir Horace Thorne''s fiftieth birthday celebration. I know of it because the man has spared little effort in keeping it a secret from him fellow nobles and highborn peers. Without even the faintest doubt, he undeniably intends for it to be quite the jubilant and festive affair, as almost anyone would want.

    The reason I''m contacting you is because I wish to speak of my own personal role in this exquisite get-together. No, I was not extended my own invitation, much to my disappointment. Though admittedly I am, by choice, a difficult man to track down. However, I still am insistent on attending the party in my own unique way.

    You may be wondering what I''ve been doing these past five years, since I last contacted you to express my condolences for the loss of Oswald. I have come forth now to give you an answer to your question and hopefully slake your curiosity. The answer is surprisingly simple: mimicry. I have been researching and perfecting the art of mimicry, using the method of alchemy. As you are undoubtedly aware, such a practice is criminalized, but as a career burglar, it should come as no surprise that legal status matters not to me.

    I''m sure you''ve already put two and two together. Yes, I am planning to infiltrate Horace Thorne''s celebration using my newly acquired skill. But why am I telling you beforehand? The truth is that I wish for us to engage in a healthy battle of wits. I have always deeply adored the games between Oswald and yourself and I. The previous time we played, you had finally placed me in the custody of the city guard, only for me to escape before I saw the inside of a dungeon cell. I''m sure you''re still curious as to how I managed it, yes? I''m afraid that''s a story for another time.

    Once more, I will be attending Horace Thorne''s fiftieth birthday celebration, under a guise created by my magnificent mimicry potion. My quarry on this mission will be a particular gift to be given to him from one of his highborn friends: a hundred-year-old Dravusi steel dagger held in an ivory scabbard with platinum accents and a crossguard made of silver, though the centerpiece of this weapon is the ruby embedded into its pommel.

    I am not misleading you or excluding any crucial information. This is a straightforward request to participate in a duel of minds. I will arrive in disguise, though I may or not change to another while I am already within the boundaries of Horace''s extravagant estate. You can do whatever you can within your power to set up as many precautions as you see necessary. Will you be able to discover me before I abscond with the weapon at the end of the night? I look forward to our game.

    Sincerely yours, I. R. Sefnir

    </blockquote>

    ¡°Gods, what a boastful bastard,¡± Cullen criticizes the tone of the letter. ¡°He sure thinks highly of himself, doesn''t he?¡±

    ¡°The nerve of him,¡± Brandon comments while pacing back and forth across the study in his morning robe, clearly agitated. ¡°The nerve of him to call it a ''game.'' The nerve of him to call me his ''friend,'' or even a ''rival,'' as though this were some sporting activity. Damn that slippery whoreson. He''s caused no end of grief to Oswald and I.¡±

    ¡°Are we taking him up on this... challenge, then?¡±

    ¡°Of course we are. I wouldn''t consider, for a single second, passing up an opportunity to catch him. We were successful last time, as the letter states, but he somehow escaped custody while being transported to the prison.¡±

    ¡°Can we truly take his word for all of this, though?¡± Cullen looks back down at the letter, lifting an eyebrow in uncertainty at the burglar''s supposed honesty. ¡°He says he isn''t misleading, but should we believe that?¡±

    ¡°As frustrating a thief he is to subdue, he''s never proved himself to be a liar,¡± Brandon admits with a small shrug. ¡°If he says he''ll do something, he''ll do it. Still, the fact he''s inviting us to catch him in such a manner agitates me to no end.¡±

    ¡°And what of this mimicry business he speaks of? Are you familiar with it?¡±

    ¡°Somewhat,¡± the senior inspector answers while picking up the alchemy book he was just reading before his partner came in. ¡°This beginner''s text makes passing mention of it, though obviously doesn''t say how to perform it. In law, mimicry is considered to be in the same category as blood magic, though it''s not magic, nor does it involve bloodshed. It does, however, require some sort of small bodily sample from whomever one wished to imitate.¡±

    ¡°But it''s only appearance, aye? It won''t change his voice or such.¡±

    ¡°No, but unfortunately, Sefnir was already a master of disguise before he began concocting these wicked potions. He''s able to adjust his voice to suit all manner of tones and cadences, and transform his gait and mannerisms to the point of seeming like a different person, even if he were dressed normally. If anything, learning to create mimicry potions will only make him harder to find.¡±

    ¡°Gods,¡± Cullen utters, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. ¡°What hope do we have of finding him in that party, then?¡±

    ¡°It''s difficult to say. He was ''gracious'' enough to give us a warning of what he plans to do, but there''s no telling what approach he''ll adopt,¡± Brandon admits before heaving a long sigh and slumping his shoulders and picking up the invitation and challenge letter once more. ¡°Either way, the party is in five days. In that time, we must consider the resources we have available to us, and possibly contact some assistance.¡±

    ¡°Like who? The city guard?¡±

    ¡°Well, first I''d like to speak with Horace Thorne directly. It''s his party and he should know about the villain that intends on ruining it. If he deems it necessary, we shall then contact the city guard and proceed from there. We''ll start immediately,¡± Brandon announces while practically ripping his robe from his body. ¡°I''ll get dressed, and we''ll head straight to the Thorne residence,¡± he declares while exiting the study and walking down the hall to his bedroom.

    Left alone, Cullen sits idly at the small table, where the senior inspector''s half-finished breakfast still rests. He takes a portion of cinnamon bread and eats it while his eyes wander around the room, eventually setting their gaze upon the bookshelf in the near corner ¨C a five-tier stand made from solid oak that''s three feet wide, and each shelf is crammed with as many books as it can accommodate. In total, it''s carrying somewhere within the vicinity of two hundred texts, possibly much more. He stands and begins to examine the spines of the nigh innumerable books bound in leather, varying in width from about fifty pages to possibly over a thousand for some. He squats down to look at the books in the bottom-most tier, and suddenly narrows his eyes at one specific book that catches his attention.

    Cullen slides the book out from its place; it''s a small text, both in length and overall size. It could possibly fit in the breast pocket of a coat. Brandon returns in a seemingly record-setting time, now fully dressed and appearing slightly more formal than his partner in a dark blue long coat, vest, trousers, and black boots.

    ¡°Ready to depart, Cullen?¡± Brandon asks, approaching the junior inspector from the hallway.

    ¡°Haven''t you read this before?¡± Cullen asks, handing the small book over.

    ¡°...''Criminal Alchemy and Blood Magic?''¡± Brandon recites the title displayed on the spine. ¡°Where was this?¡±

    ¡°The bottom shelf.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I had no idea I had this. Then again, the vast majority of these books were Oswald''s. I still haven''t read all of them. Hopefully this has more detail on the mimicry potion Sefnir may be using. Quite a convenient find; good eye, Cullen. Now, let''s head out, yes?¡±

    With the book, and both letters still clasped in his hand, Brandon beckons his partner forward, and the two exit the house, beginning their mission to prepare for the infamous Ilbern Sefnir''s upcoming burglary attempt at Horace Thorne''s fastly approaching birthday celebration.