Zeke peered at the steps, studying the fog billowing down from their summit. It was only fifteen feet above him, but it felt like an insurmountable distance. That was because he could feel the mist invading his thoughts. Already, he found it difficult to think, and he suspected that if he fully immersed himself in the fog, it would grow much worse.
But as he’d often reminded himself of late, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He’d already committed himself to descending through the Pit, and his only two options were to keep going or surrender. The latter just wasn’t part of his nature, which made the choice easy enough.
However, just because it wasn’t difficult to make the decision, that didn’t mean he looked forward to following through.
Finally, he rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath, then began his ascent. Each step brought with it a dose of confusion. He still knew who he was – at least at his core – but things like the memories of his companions and their shared history immediately seemed very far away. It was like looking at his past through dirty glass, and soon enough, the details began to blur.
Zeke refused to waver in his resolve. Instead, he pushed ahead, eventually reaching the summit. When he looked around, he saw a wide open plain, though one wreathed in thick fog. Visibility was limited to around twenty feet, though the billowing mist fluctuated, concealing more or less with each passing second.
He stepped forward, and the mist swirled all around him, almost as if it was alive. It suffused him, drifting in and out of his body and taking things he knew he couldn’t afford to lose.
“You can’t stop,” Eveline said. “Keep going, Zeke. No matter what else happens, you can’t stop moving.”
Zeke nodded, though he didn’t respond. Instead, he followed her instructions, and for the longest time, he continued on. After a few minutes, he once again sank into a trance – or at least he tried to, but his mind simply wouldn’t cooperate. He felt every passing second as if it was his last.
On and on Zeke went, and after a while, he forgot why he was walking. He only knew Eveline’s constant refrain. “Don’t stop. Keep moving.”
Eventually, he forgot what that voice even represented. He didn’t know if it came from his own mind or if the mist was whispering to him. Regardless, he continued to put one foot in front of the other.
Then, something loomed above him, and Zeke’s instincts took over a second before a sword would have cleaved him in two. That brought him back to awareness, and he summoned Voromir to hand as he took a look at his attacker.
It looked like an animate statue of a demonic king. Proud and slightly out of proportion, it held a massive, obsidian sword at the ready. When it moved, it did so with plodding but deliberate steps that quickly covered the distance between them. Once again, he attempted to attack, but Zeke easily stepped aside and slammed his hammer into its leg.
That was as high as he could reach, and the attack wasn’t even remotely effective. Instead, the hammer rebounded, vibrating violently as Zeke tried to recover his balance. He managed it just in time to avoid another strike that dug into the grassy turf of the plains. The impact sent a shockwave out that very nearly knocked Zeke from his feet.
He pushed himself upright to see that the animate statue was gone.
“What the hell was that?!” he demanded aloud, his mind clearer than it had been in hours. Or days, perhaps. It was difficult to remember how long he’d been wandering in the mist.
“The Keepers of the Forgotten,” Eveline answered, her voice surprising him. Until she spoke, he’d completely forgotten she existed. “I heard stories about them, but…they were supposed to be a myth.”
“Seemed real enough to me,” Zeke remarked. “Keep talking to me. I think the fog has been affecting me.”
“It is. If you spend too much time here, you will forget everything and be doomed to wander the plains with all the other lost souls,” she explained.
“That’s a cheerful subject. Why do I feel fine now?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Zeke had an idea, though. Was his identity truly so intertwined with battle that it acted as an anchor for him? It felt like that was the case, but he couldn’t be certain.
What he did know for sure was that he couldn’t stand still. He needed to keep moving. Already, the fog had begun to thicken all around him, and he knew that if he stayed in one place for long, he’d end up worse off. So, without any further questions, he resumed his directionless journey.
To him, it didn’t matter which way he went. He just needed to move. Perhaps that was the effect of the fog, but he suspected it was more about who he was. He didn’t like sitting still, after all.
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Soon, he was once again surrounded and inundated by the fog, and just like before, he started to forget who he was. Just before he lost connection with his identity, another Keeper tried to attack him. And similar to what happened the first time, he endured its attacks, returning them in kind until the thing ran away. That gave him a little respite from the memory loss.
But that was when the voices began.
At first, Zeke couldn’t even make out what they were saying, but soon enough, he began to understand them. And he wished he never had.
“You were meant to save us,” hissed a formless voice. “But you left us to be consumed by the undead. We will never know rest. You doomed us to this hell.”
On and on they went, a chorus of accusations that made it clear that Zeke had made the wrong choice when he chose to abandon the Radiant Isles. He’d long since accepted that. At the time, he had only wanted to move on from the responsibility, but in retrospect, he knew he should have been strong enough to fight.
Because he could have won.
He knew it. So did everyone else. And the voices were quick to remind him of his selfish cowardice. They didn’t stop there, though. The whispers soon incorporated his time in the Eternal Realm. Many of those voices belonged to Knights of Adontis or others victims of his war against their kingdom, but just as many came from the people of the Imperium.
“We were happy. Our civilization was content. And you destroyed everything. Millions have died, and millions more will be doomed by your bloodlust,” they claimed.
He’d had the best intentions. He’d only wanted to free the people who’d been enslaved by the wicked Imperium. Yet, he knew there were consequences to the choice to wage war against the Radiant Host. Not only had he and his army killed hundreds of thousands of knights, but they’d also torn down the framework of their civilization. Many had starved. Others had been killed by monsters the knights had kept at bay. And even more had been slain by vengeful members of the Radiant Host who were intent on ensuring that their slaves would never be freed.
Guilt over the things he’d done warred with the surety that he’d only acted according to his conscience.
Thankfully, each time he was attacked by one of the Keepers, they were temporarily silenced. Of course, if he was even a moment too late in his reactions to the giant statues’ sudden appearance, he would have been sliced in half by their enormous swords. Yet, he still found himself looking forward to their attacks.
Like that, it went on for days. Weeks, perhaps. Zeke felt every passing second like it was an eternity, but he still lost track of the passage of time. It was almost impossible to gauge, given that the environment never changed. The fog obscured everything, and for all he knew, he might have been walking in circles. The only break he got were the intermittent attacks from the statues.
And then, suddenly, he found himself facing an obelisk. He stood there, facing it for the longest time, confused as to what it meant. The structure was almost fifteen feet wide, with square sides, and taller than Zeke could perceive. Upon its surface, numerous glyphs were carved, though they were unlike any he’d ever beheld.
It was gibberish.
But not knowing what else to do, Zeke stepped forward and touched the black surface. It was cool to the touch, and it radiated a dense wave of energy that immediately rushed through his body. In its wake, Zeke understood what he was meant to do. He could also comprehend what he’d been doing. Or rather, what the fog had been doing to him. Each passing minute had robbed him of attributes as well as afflicted his mind with a status effect called Mind Fog.
The only reason he hadn’t already succumbed was because of his incredible attributes. Without them, he would have been defenseless. Even with those advantages, he knew he didn’t have much longer before he tipped over the edge.
Thankfully, the obelisk imparted upon him the knowledge of what he was intended to do. It just wasn’t something he wanted to think about, much less a task he wished to embark upon.
“What is it?” Eveline asked.
“I have to follow the whispers,” he said. “They lead to Fragments of Memory, which will restore my attributes. Once I’ve collected enough, I need to find the edge of the plains, where the Gate of the Forgotten stands. There, I must defeat the Warden of Lost Souls and collect his key. That will allow me to pass to the next circle.”
“You discovered all of that from that monument?”
Zeke shrugged. “It’s called a Wayfinder. An obelisk meant to usher lost souls to their eternal rest. But it’s purpose has been undermined by the Warden, who delights in torturing these poor people. It wants the situation to change. It needs to free these people.”
“The obelisk needs it? It’s an object.”
“That doesn’t change anything,” Zeke insisted. “It’s not sapient, but it understands its purpose.”
It was all so clear to him that he never even considered questioning what he knew to be true. Eveline was not so convinced, and she said, “Ezekiel. That thing could just be part of it. You know that, right? It’s probably pushing you into a situation where you’ll end up dead.”
“Maybe,” Zeke acknowledged. “But at least it’s something. Any direction is a good direction right now.”
With that, he set off, and for the first time, he truly paid attention to the whispers. Not the content – that would have driven him insane – but rather, to where the voices were coming from. At first, it was difficult to tell for sure, but after what felt like days, he began to recognize subtle differences in their tones. And that led him to a rudimentary form of echolocation.
It was far from foolproof, but Zeke’s senses were far more powerful than they’d once been. And because of that, he was able to manage it. Proof of that came when he found his first Fragment of Memory, which presented as a shard of glass that resembled a broken piece of a mirror. When he held it up, Zeke didn’t see a reflection, though. Instead, he saw a bunch of wispy shapes whose form he couldn’t make out.
They left him feeling both disconcerted and hopeful, and in equal measure. The first because he didn’t know what he was looking at, and the second, because it told him that he was on the right track. So, without further delay, he set off to look for the other fragments.
“I hope you’re right, Ezekiel,” Eveline said, suddenly appearing beside him. She looked more incorporeal than normal, almost as if she was less real than before. “Because there is a good chance that this place is not what it seems.”
“I know,” he said, striding confidently through the mist. “But this is the best lead we’ve got.”