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 – 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?”

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“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 – the undead-deterring wall before the castle doors – 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 – 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 – 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.