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 – 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 – with the empty quiver – 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.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

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.