Victors Quill

We left at dawn.

Or what counted for dawn under that dull, pale sky. The clouds had thickened overnight, heavy and low, as if the world itself didn't want to wake up.

I followed a few paces behind Plor, both sickles hooked into loops on my belt. The leather still felt stiff against my hips, but it was better than nothing. The blades thudded lightly with every step.

She moved fast for someone who didn't seem like she cared much about time.

Every so often, she'd swat at a branch or nudge a stone aside with her boot. She didn't talk much at first, and I didn't try to fill the silence either.

The path wound through marsh-thick earth, drying the further east we went. Still soggy, still unstable, but not as bad as where she'd trained me. I could actually hear my steps now instead of just squelch, squelch, squelch.

A few minutes in, she slowed suddenly and sniffed the air.

Then she frowned.

"Smell that?"

I blinked.

Smell what? Swamp breath?

"...It's faint." She said, squinting off into the distance.

"But the mist's coming back."

What is she on about, you can't smell mist...

I followed her gaze.

Somehow she was right. The air ahead was no longer just grey, it swayed slightly, like it was trying to blur itself out of focus. Barely visible at first, but it clung to the ground in thin threads like smoke from a dying fire.

"Didn't you say that fog was gone?"

"Well it was gone." she replied.

"But now it's back."

Lovely, a haunted swamp. Great start to the trip...

She glanced back at me, one brow raised.

"You scared?"

"No." I lied.

She didn't call me on it. Just turned back around and kept walking.

We traveled like that for a while, quiet but not in a bad way. She'd occasionally throw something at me without warning, sticks, pebbles, even a half-rotten fruit once, and I'd flick to dodge. It was like she couldn't help herself.

"You're reacting too late."

She said, after I barely blinked away from a spinning rock.

Maybe because you're randomly throwing things at my face?

But I didn't say that out loud. Not because I was afraid to, just... I think I was starting to get her rhythm.

I thought we were finally finished with these stupid lessons...

"Again." She muttered, tossing a broken bit of bark toward my knee.

This time, I flicked before it even left her hand.

She laughed.

"Now we're talking."

It should be a lot easier to hate her.

The mist deepened as we hiked, crawling in from the trees. It wasn't thick yet, but I could feel it brushing my ankles, clinging like static. I reacted to it too, it just felt a little off, it was as if I was walking through weighted air.

"You notice that?"

I asked, keeping my voice low.

"Mhm." Plor nodded, serious now.

"The fog feels thicker, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"It's always like this when I had to forage for food in the fog."

She was probably right about something controlling it then, reminds me of that ugly plant manipulating bastard.

We stopped for a quick break at a fallen tree. She sat cross-legged on the trunk like it was a throne, pulling out a dry fruit bar from her jacket. I stayed standing, arms crossed, scanning the fog ahead.

"You look a lot better with those blades."

She said between bites, nodding toward my hips.

"I've not even used them though."

"Doesn't matter. You carry them right, which means something."

Carry them right? What does that even mean?

She seemed to sense the question.

"You carry them like you're ready to use them."

I nodded slowly.

Maybe I've changed more than I realized.

The quiet settled again. Not awkward, just... calm.

I found myself watching her. How easily she existed in places like this. How natural it was for her to sit in silence, or smile at nothing, or throw a rock just to see if I'd dodge.

She caught me looking and smirked.

"What?"

I blinked.

"Nothing, just thought you're pretty strange."

We moved again after that. The path narrowed, trees closing in around us, and the fog crept higher, up to our knees now, rolling like low tide. The sun, or what little of it remained, dimmed even more behind the clouds.

Every few steps, I'd glance over at Plor. She didn't look worried, even in the slightest, but her pace had shifted, slightly lower to the ground, eyes scanning more.

Well, that's concerning. If she's being cautious, something's wrong.

Still, I didn't speak. Just kept walking, flickers of shimmer pulsing behind my ribs, sickles resting like twin weights at my sides.

The fog was heavier now. Thicker, I could barely see more than a few steps ahead. Every breath I took tasted like cold metal and damp earth.

This just isn't normal.

It's not just the air or the wetlands or the morning chill. It's wrong, too thick, too fast.

I glanced at Plor.

She didn't seem fazed at all. She was still walking at the same pace, eyes forward, posture loose. Her chakram was still strapped to her back, her arms relaxed at her sides. If anything, she looked bored. Like we were on a lazy hike and not being swallowed whole by a creeping, silent wall of grey.

"How far to the ruins?"

I asked, though I kept my voice low.

"Still a day out. We'll camp out tonight." She didn't even glance back.

Camp? In this?

I swallowed.

"You're quiet." she added after a beat, voice light.

"Fog's not exactly great conversation."

She chuckled.

"No shit."

We walked a few more steps. The sound of our boots sloshing through muck was muffled, like the mist was swallowing even that.

Then I said it.

"This is that thing, isn't it? The one you mentioned, some fog creature."

Plor's stride didn't slow. She stepped over a root, picked a path through the reeds, and answered casually.

"Most likely. Hasn't been this heavy in months. You feel that weight on your shoulders?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

"That's pressure. It's not just the mist, there's something in it, weighing us down."

Well, that's perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"Shouldn't we run?"

"Wouldn't help, can you even teleport somewhere you can't see?"

"Well... maybe, maybe not. Haven't exactly tried."

I stared into the mist. It moved subtly, like the currents of water. Not wind, more like something swimming just beneath the surface of a lake.

"Should we fight?"

Plor snorted softly.

"Not yet, it'll know better then to attack me."

A branch cracked somewhere behind us.

I spun, eyes straining, but there was only grey.

No shape. No eyes. No breathing.

Just fog.

Thicker. Closer.

Plor didn't stop walking.

"Whatever it is, it's not rushing. Probably sees us as a threat." She said.

I stepped faster to keep up, nearly stumbling on a slick patch of moss.

"Do you see it as a threat?"

She finally looked at me over her shoulder. Just briefly.

"I literally can't even see it."

That's... Just not what I asked.

I stayed close behind her, the sickles in my hands now, their metal slick with mist. I gripped them tight, as if that might anchor me to something real.

Another sound. This time from the right.

Like wet cloth being pulled across bark.

I flicked without thinking, just a short jump to a nearby root. Landed, crouched, eyes wide.

Nothing there.

"Easy." Plor said calmly.

"It's not attacking."

"Yet."

"Exactly. So don't burn yourself out flicking every time a frog sneezes in the distance."

That's easy for you to say.

She reached out and gently pressed a hand to a tree beside us. A charge shimmered faintly against the bark, barely visible, but it was there.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Just in case, not planning on throwing trees yet."

"Yet." I muttered.

"Keep walking."

We moved slower now. She was letting me set the pace, even if she pretended not to. My heart beat like a hammer. Every few steps, I flicked my gaze left, right, behind us.

The fog felt alive, no worse then that, aware.

Like it was growing more curious. Closer.

Plor stopped suddenly, one arm raised.

I froze.

Through the mist, ahead of us, something shifted.

Not a sound.

Just a motion.

A subtle dip in the fog. Like something heavy had stepped through it and disturbed the shape of the air.

I squinted.

It moved again, faint and tall. It didn't walk like a person. It sort of glided. Not silent, but smooth. Like it was moving with the fog, not through it.

It stopped maybe twenty meters ahead. I couldn't make out details. Just an outline. Vague limbs, something sharp about its posture.

I held my breath.

Don't flick. Don't twitch. Just… wait.

Plor didn't move either.

Then she said, so casually it made my stomach turn.

"I think it's always been able to see us."

Good.

"Keep your blades down. Don't spook it."

"Spook it?" I hissed.

"I think we're the ones being spooked."

"Kael, you are the only one spooked."

I felt the shimmer stir in me again. Faint, like it was uncertain whether to coil or unravel.

The shape shifted again.

Then melted back into the fog.

Gone.

I let out a deep, heavy breath

Plor turned slightly toward me.

"We'll stop soon." She said.

"Find some dry ground. Set a fire, if it wants to come closer, it will."

"You're seriously going to sleep with that thing right outside?"

"Don't worry, I'll be keeping it outside."

She patted a tree again. Another faint shimmer, another charge, just in case.

I stared into the mist again.

I couldn't see anything. But I knew it was still there.

Watching.

Waiting.

The fog swirled, slow and steady around us.