“Are you sure?”

“It’ll recede to as it was before it’s rise soon. We’ll descend by then.”

Osias was but a touch above the mist. One dip of his feet and he’ll touch it. Kiran was by his side in case anything happened… but if he suddenly dropped dead that’ll be his end.

The reason he has begrudgingly yet to attempt to brave the mist directly is because of Kiran. More specifically, the lack of First Ordeal hounds they so fervently populated the mountain before the milky wisps raised above the unknown depths of the valleys and gorges.

Not even their corpses were found.

But it would be foolish to think the mist wouldn’t rise once more. Besides, they have no more elevated land to travel with.

If nothing happens, then they’ll begin their preparations to descend its obscured depths…

It's been a few minutes since Kiran told him to try. But he couldn’t wave the fear away so easily. For so long he has been told to avoid it, as if his life depended on not even touching it. He knew he had to though. There was still an entire journey ahead. A life to live! He cannot hold back his brother any longer.

So he reluctantly lowered his left leg into the mist as the tight unease wrung his chest whole.

‘Damn it. Just do it!’ He silently reproached himself.

Then he madly sunk it below, welcoming its cold embrace.

…Only to find nothing happened — just as Kiran found for himself all that time ago.

‘That’s it? All this time… I could’ve entered it?’

In the next moment, Kiran cut through his thoughts and said:

“Good. Get up, gather together all we have. We go today.”

Osias nodded, his brother left no room for tolerance. It was time.

Lifting his foot, he began the short trek upwards.

It was a great distance now, only reminding him of how much time he spent on the land untouched by the mist.

After the mist receded enough for him to leave the summit he began training his movements differently. He did realize it then, as Kiran carried him most of the way, but scaling such a steep and jagged mountain was difficult… treacherous even.

To thoughtfully use essence together with the awkward and cumbrous actions tested his control even further. As he used essence to strengthen himself, mindful to be both frugal and sparse in its uses, he finally began just thinking of how to implement this control of essence to fit the Red Sky’s War Art.

Essence control was but the most rudimentary part of his war art… and even then, his control was most likely lacking as he could only compare himself to Kiran.

It was simply wishful thinking at this point, nothing more than feeding into his delusions. He hasn’t even undergone his first Ordeal!

But as he once again recalled first first climb to the summit alone, he truly felt like a child as he scaled the first cliffs, clumsy and dull as he was. So many times had he lost a hold and fell from a great height atop stone…

But as days and weeks went by, he improved, moving with the rough grace of mountain brigands.

He heard tales of the Red Sky coming upon such mountain clans occasionally on their raids. Some were bold and some dwelled in the recluse of mountains. But all of them possessed people capable to traveling the rugged landscape with an outrageous ease apparently.

Even he can learn from such people…

His control over essence has been getting better. No longer does he overflow his body to compensate for the lack of skill.

He became much more aware and thoughtful of himself both during battle and casual movements.

With another leap, he caught a familiar crevice within the stones and climbed himself up once more.

There he met jagged stones and signs of a barren encampment, his dwelling over quite some time.

Fortunately or not, there weren’t many things he had. He hadn’t acquired anything new aside from the crude weathered cloak that was a little too heavy for him. Kiran prepared the hide of the fallen brood mother one day. The material itself was familiar — his blade cut through a similar hide countless times after all.

The cloak itself was thick and rugged, with a texture that felt both rough and strangely supple. The color was a deep, mottled black, just like the more familiar hounds he was accustomed to.

He wondered why wouldn't the Second Ordeal hounds suffice, but not enough to inquire to Kiran…

Kiran held most of their other items, but he was already waiting for him by the mist. So that only left him his dirty rags for a cloak, a secured vial of blood, and his personal short sword.

He began to clean away their signs of encampment — luckily most of the work was done in advance. Though it did make him stop and think… this was his last sight of their camp. One of many.

He sighed deeply, remembering that this was the nature of their life until they reached the north.

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Hiding.

Running.

Perhaps even pursued. This was the reason why he had to clear their camp bare anyway.

Until they reach the Northern Wind Union, this will only continue. Who knows when the next extended moment of reprieve will come and last?

His face slowly turned somber and grave as he descended the mountain for the last time.

He ran and jumped and rolled his way down until he found the dark looming figure of Kiran. He abandoned his old cloak, instead donning another crude segment of the brood mother to cover his top half.

He couldn’t see past, but he knew that his own improvised cloak was somewhere fastened against Kiran’s waist — he’d only be slowed down if he draped himself in its tough embrace as he is now.

Kiran motioned him to come along and he obliged with a stiff inhale of air… perhaps his last breath of air outside the mist. Both he and Kiran couldn’t ascertain how far the mist reached. All they knew was that from the moment they arrived at the borders of land claimed by Path Finders, they found the mist below them.

Days upon days, the sunless grey mist never ended. Even as they looked down upon the highest of summits they could reach.

Kiran said they were still right against the Tailed Brothers, a little past the once mighty Red Cliff Stronghold. Its iron-crowned battlements, massive towers, and thick dark red walls gave it the aspect of a ferocious beast hunched between two narrow ridges. It is said that both the spilled blood of the Path Finders under the Tailed Brothers and the Red Sky stained the great walls giving them their color.

Although it no longer serves a purpose with the fall of the band, it was still a near-impenetrable fortress that barred them from passing north had they instead traveled inland.

So the Outer Valleys did indeed help them travel candidly at a cost.

Shaking his head slightly, he followed Kiran as they walked into the mist.

He hesitantly closed his eyes, a little wary because of their history with harrowing creatures able to detect such things, but as he opened them he simply immersed himself in the obscurity of it all.

It was far from what he thought, even though he already dipped a toe in it. The way his mind and body rejected the idea of entering, it wouldn’t be far from calling it the precipice of hell.

It was impossibly murky and he could barely even see his own arms, even feeling a little heavy and sluggish. But that was it.

Lifting his leg and stomping down, perhaps in a pitiful attempt to make sure it was still attached to himself, he began to follow the dark figure in front of him warily.

They weaved between what should have been trees, and he could feel the descending slope of stones and earth. The rest of the way toward where he once adamantly avoided because of the Kiran’s unusually long hunt did not take a lot of time.

It seemed that the mist thinned out slightly in some areas as his eyes fervently glazed upon the shadowy collapsed trees and odd impressions of footsteps.

They continued the descent, at times pausing briefly as Kiran perhaps sensed something he could not, but nothing occurred. But each time it happened, the welling desire to prove to be of use only made his heart heavier.

‘Still a hindrance.’ Osias thought with sunken eyes.

Perhaps it was morbid, but he thought of his chances if he was alone. Mistake after mistake, he was too green to know right from wrong. Too weak to travel alone. It was a cruel thought that ruminated within, but he was dead weight.

“We’re on the foothills, the northern base of the mountain.” Kiran abruptly said, cutting through the dense mist.

Osias didn’t say anything in reply, continuing to follow the giant wafting through the mist. As they continued a series of careful steps the mist thin a little once more, enough for him to faintly see a few paces around him.

But what he saw made him freeze and pale in shock. A few steps to his side and he would've brushed against something horrendous. It was but a fragment, a severed piece of something appalling of an immense creature.

It looked like an old bloodied limb, too large to see the end of it. Whatever lay past what could’ve been its wrist was shrouded in mist, the ends of which he could not find. He silently gasped, stifling any sounds as if the fallen creature itself or whatever abhorrent beast capable of severing its limb like this was still in the area.

However, Kiran continued to move, disregarding the fallen limb.

‘Large. Much larger than what Kiran said the brood mother was.’ Osias quickly recalled and determined.

It made him aware that despite the quiet emptiness of the ocean of the vile mist, they were not alone. Far from it.

Quickly chasing the already faint figure of Kiran ahead of him, he tightened his grip as his heart turned a sickly cold. His alertness seemed to swell upon his brief findings.

‘If only Zevir was alongside us, or at least guiding us from afar.’ He thought wistfully, yearning for the presence of the all-seeing elder.

Perhaps the giant bloody eye of the elder could peer past the mist. Osias wondered how Zevir came upon his abilities. He lost his usual eyesight in return for a powerful but stationary eye let loose atop the Great Mountain— no, was it truly stationary?

Osias himself rarely left the Great Mountain, it had everything he needed after all. There were thousands upon thousands living within its once mighty walls, and although most of his time was spent inside the narrow confines of the hollow mountain, he was well aware of how much land the Red Sky took for their own.

And the elders were not inept and idle. It took grand amounts of time for them all to convene once more along with Garm atop their Great Mountain — many of the elders were leading the raids and conquest of the band. What if Zevir had multiple eyes, atop multiple mountains?

Osias grimly smiled as he relished in the thought of the ease of travel if they had Zevir with them…

However, Kiran seemed to thoroughly explore and memorize much of the land as he remained atop the summit. There was no need to backtrack and they took well-thought turns, not even encountering the creature of the mist Kiran once mentioned.

Though it did seem a little darker than it was earlier. Osias’s chin lifted as he waved his gaze side to side, trying to find the sun, but the dark tendrils of the fog were unrelenting. As they continued to travel within, its eerie emptiness eclipsed all else.

He focused on his footing, while also keeping Kiran in his sight. The uneven paths of the turned-grey forested hill were not ideal for the blind.

Kiran didn’t say much, even as time passed, but he didn’t care. He grew accustomed to the dead silence despite his tenseness.

It must’ve been an hour since they had begun their travel, most likely crossing an insignificant amount of lan-

“Run!” Kiran said in a hushed whisper as an iron-clawed grip dragged him by his non-sword hand.

Osias quickly raised his eyes in alarm and tried to stay calm. Suddenly Kiran cut a tight corner to the left and changed directions.

His heart felt as though it dropped, it was unlikely that upon Kiran’s travels, he plan such a maneuver.

Their quick continued on for hundreds of paces, and Kiran erratically led him between swathes of trees and risings, even grabbing hold of him for a steep hillside.

Deeper and deeper they continued on until Kiran abruptly slowed down as they reached what seemed to be a narrow ledge before a clearing. Osias was sure that beyond where his own senses could see, they must’ve avoided something dire.

Bringing himself to Kiran’s side, he turned his head to face his brother between slightly strained breaths.

But he found plastered on Kiran’s face was a silent scowl more twisted than ever before.

“Did we-”

In the next moment, a near unutterable sound bellowed, something he couldn’t imagine a living creature could make, and he clutched his ears and sprawled on his back.

Shattering pain that pounded his head to bits wailed on and on.

And then a realization surfaced through his broken mind.

…His brother wasn’t looking at him. Kiran’s flinty face was glaring at something in front of them.