Novels2Search

Chapter1

Rowan emerged from the bath water and gasped as his bare skin met the piercing cold air. He shuddered. He was cold, yet he was sweating?

Leaning back, he escaped into the bath's weak embrace. Glancing at the tap, he growled, "Dammit, shit!"

He switched it off. The trickle of heat had died while Rowan slept. Now, it poured only cold.

He lingered in the final moments of warmth, staring at his legs. They were too long and hung out of the bath awkwardly. The cold water forced him to stand in the tub, moisture threatening to stick and freeze to him as he lunged for his towel.

While drying off, he shared a fleeting glance with the mirror before wrapping his towel around himself. "Dam heater and dam house," Rowan cursed.

Shivering, he stumbled through his room towards his cabinet and opened it with a weary creek. The same grey uniform was cluttered all across the wardrobe floor. He picked one at random, dressed, and left.

The whole house was ebbing with similar cold as he trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen. 'It's still empty then.' It was clean enough and long, free of any dirty dishes. But that didn't soothe the growl of his stomach.

He was hungry and cold, yet the hard part was still to come. Circling, he crossed the living room and found the front door. Wincing, he noticed something jutting out of the mail slot. He tasted a sharp breath and reached out his hand. Paused, then snatched it.

He brought the letter to his face, leaving fierce imprints on the paper. He scoffed and read it aloud. "Notice of Contribution." Smirking, he tossed the envelope behind him and went to put on his winter shoes, humming.

"I don't care who the Association sends. I'm not paying my Contribution."

Kneeling and fiddling with his laces, his cocky smile slipped. At eye height with the door, he noticed a corner of paper sticking out from the hole. Another letter.

He reached out, grabbing it by its corner and pulling it free. He could feel the envelope thick and full in his hand. "More. She really sent me more money."

He weighed it in his hands with a frown. He didn't need to open it to know it was enough to pay his Contribution. Even if it wasn't, he had dozens of the things still stashed away already.

"It's not worth it." Laced in his shoes, he stumbled to his feet, dropping the envelope to the floor. The door was open then, and he had locked it behind him. The cold outside was much worse than within. But Rowan didn't mind.

####################################

St. Gautama Academy only got bigger as he approached.

Chaotic didn't justify the furious bustle of the street before him. It was loud and thick with warm bodies.

Students gathered around every corner and every path as they approached the colossal structure. The energy between them ricocheted off of each other. Spirits were high, and the overwhelming cold did little to quell the intense energy in the air.

The youngest surrounding him displayed awe and excitement with whichever peer would listen as they buzzed around. The Academy's enormous grey walls acted as a blockade against the day's fierce, cold winds.

Rowan frowned. "So there's more of both of them this year."

Once the horde around him noticed, too, their buzz and energy depleted.

Two small groups stood at the foot of the Academy's enormous metal doors. Defiant, they withstood the swarming student body like sentinels surrounding the Academy's entrance.

The metal gates segregated them. Rowan noticed many wore familiar grey uniforms. But not all. Many had their own casual colours, too.

'Protestors. Is there anything more annoying?'

As if mocking him, they chanted louder. "As the Mist consumes, let humanity bloom. Immigrants embraced in our safe haven room!"

Wincing, he glanced at those on the right concealed in thick dark velvet. Their faces. He might have known some of them, too, had they not hid them. Their stiff, silent figures frightened the students as much as their loud counterparts. But neither affected Rowan.

Once the youngest and shortest of the students spotted them, many stopped, stunting the crowd's progress. Rather than shove, Rowan weaved between the frozen youths approaching the leftmost group.

A quick survey of their large waving banners confirmed it. 'In just a couple years. They grew so big. Louder too.'

"We refuse to turn away. Let's embrace refugees today!"

It was useless. There was no way for him to find who he was looking for in the chaos.

"Hey! Hey! Rowan, are you alright?"

Rowan's eyes widened as a familiar voice interrupted his retreat. A vigilant figure strutted through the swarming masses.

Before he could ask, she had him. Dragging him by his shoulder, she led him between the student body. He couldn't help but stare up at her as he was pulled.

Andrea was a head taller than him, and her mousey brown locks stood out, a colour like his own. Despite the rampant surroundings, her grip was soft, and her smile was gentle. That didn't stop her from physically pushing past a huge male student in her way. Then they broke free.

Amongst the space claimed by the protesters, she turned to face him standing beside the Academy's enormous open doors.

"Phew! See? It's not that hard. Anyway, now that I've saved you, you owe me, don't you?" She coughed. "Rowan, it's time to commit yourself to something greater, something bigger-"

"Keep your recruitment speeches to yourself," He snapped.

A smirk escaped her, but he could only frown. He hadn't been stuck in the crowd. Nor had he any intention of joining her cause, no matter how often she asked him.

He eyed her figure. She wore a simple red jacket and shirt underneath. But, of course, no uniform.

"Fine, fine, I get it. Gosh, you used to be so kind and gentle." She leaned in towards him. "But what if I offer you something in return? Something great?"

Rowan didn't even twitch. Andrea dismissed her grin with a sharp click of her tongue. "Tchh. Well, whatever. A kiss would be wasted on you."

He sighed. There might have been a time that would have worked on him, but not anymore. Despite his annoyance, a quick scan of the assembled protestors evoked a different feeling in him.

"Well, at least some of your ideas seem to be working... You really managed to do this all yourself. Didn't you, Andrea?"

"All myself? Well, I suppose I have played a large role of sorts." She grinned. "But we all help each other first in our group. You can't help others until you yourself get help."

Rowan's frozen, cold lips curled into a slight smile. "How very poetic for you. Well, anyway, your efforts paid off. That's what matters. I still think it's ridiculous to try and force even more refugees into just one Academy. But good for you. With quotes like that, you'll find plenty of vulnerable kids to enlist."

Andrea opened her mouth but lingered as if nervous. That brief silence was foreboding for Rowan. Before anything had been said, his smirk had long dwindled. He held himself shivering from the cold as if just remembering its presence.

"Rowan. She was the one who told me that. Did you know? Those are her words."

Cursing, he turned his back to the brunette, the roaring crowd covering his retreat.

But then she yelled, "I just want to know how she is? Rowan! please?"

Her tone reached him even amidst the chaos of students. Surprised, he flinched. Once he'd stopped, it was harder to leave again. Turning back, his voice was solemn and quiet, but he replied.

"She's. She's doing fine, Andrea."

He noticed relief cloud her eyes moments before his sight was obscured by a swarm of unrelenting grey uniforms.

####################

The classroom was warm. Around Rowan, his classmates shed their winter clothes and moved freely in their grey uniforms. It was a stretch to call it warm, but Rowan could see they were comfortable as they huddled and giggled.

However, the teacher's long-awaited entrance never came. Even after the bell rang, no one had passed through the classroom door, and no one suppressed the rampant inhabitants. Unimpeded, more and more of them fluttered about. Some fifteen, some sixteen, others seventeen. The class was relatively mixed in age, ethnicity, and origin.

He stared out the window as his mind lingered on the silent figures in black. 'There were more Ciln this year, too. Something's happening.'

He did another quick survey of the crowded class before he noticed her.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Silent, she sat in a corner in the back, absorbed in the book, resting on her lap. Even as a chair flew across the room, she simply smiled at the pages. Those glasses she wore observed nothing of the class around her, and like Rowan, she was being suffocated by waves of students flooding the room.

'Some teacher she is. When was the last time we had a real lesson again?'

This wasn't unusual. There was no such thing as lessons at St. Gautama's Academy. Not anymore. There were so many refugees and Civilians that there was no real way to tell them apart. Introverts like themselves were left to find some way to cope with the constant buzz or die.

"Shut up asshole!!"

Everything was faint and muffled to him these days. Perhaps the constant noise had damaged his ears beyond repair, or he'd just adapted to ignoring it all.

"Fuck you!"

However, Ben and Chen were lone exceptions. Their obnoxious, loud voices were impossible not to identify, impossible not to hear. Retreating inside the sanctity of his head had its limits.

Chen chuckled. "Nah, no way, man. You're the type of guy who gets lost at school. There's no way you'd survive. I give you a minute at best."

"And this is coming from the idiot who thought steam and Mist were the same thing." Ben scowled. "When we were kids, remember? Don't worry, I didn't forget. I reckon you'd make it five seconds if you were Swallowed by the Mist. Forget a minute."

Their bickering ignited, jarring the nearest students. Hopeful, Rowan turned to eye the teacher. But his hopes were unfounded. Slouching, she only leant further towards her book as the voices grew louder.

"Both of you are so pathetic! Honestly."

A shrill feminine voice soon joined them. Rowan resisted the urge to cover his ears as the two boys' momentum broke. Together, they turned to face the girl.

Ben said, "Oh really, and how are we pathetic, Jenna?"

Jenna rolled her eyes and took an extra long moment to sigh. Thick wrinkles soon creased the forehead of both boys.

"Isn't it obvious? If you were half the men you think you are, you'd have volunteered for the Ciln by now."

Frowning, Rowan watched Jenna's keen gaze flicker to their red faces before she chuckled.

Chen yelled, "We're men! It's just joining the Ciln is stupid. You saw them today. Just standing about doing nothing? Besides..." Ben jutted in. "Women can join the Ciln too, idiot! So, let me guess? Were cowards for not registering, but you're not?"

"Well, yeah, duh. You're supposed to be men, aren't you? If you weren't all such cowards, then women who can't afford the Contribution wouldn't have to take your place in the Ciln."

The girl brushed her dark black hair back with a scowl. The two boys looked ready to charge her. Yet still, the teacher's peaceful silhouette showed no signs of moving. However, Rowan twisted his body around at what he heard next.

"I guess idiots like you two wouldn't know, but my brother signed up."

"What," Rowan murmured. But nobody looked at him.

Jenna said, "I migrated from Montarc. We have our own Ciln there, and my brother stayed behind to join. The last thing I heard was he'd been Swallowed. So that means he's a Defected now, unlike you cowards."

Tilting back in her chair, she smiled. However, Rowan noticed her fists clenched awfully tight as she folded them over her chest. He watched her knuckles turn red from the pressure and found himself unable to look away.

"If you were men. You'd join."

That final word drove Ben up from his seat. Seething, he pointed a fat finger at the girl. Rowan hunched forward in his chair, restless, almost ready to stand.

"Your brother is just an idiot! The Ciln, too! Who the hell would get Swallowed on purpose?" He glanced around at the class as his outstretched finger grew shaky, and the lips of his smile trembled. "He probably wanted to die with all of your bitching. No wonder he was Swallowed. He's probably dead already."

He glanced around again, his face flushed red with rage, before dropping back into his seat with a clang. The silence turned loud.

Rowan looked away before anyone could see his face. He didn't hear the girl fire any rebuke back, and he didn't turn to check her expression. He didn't want to.

The door swung open, saving them from suspenseful silence. The teacher snapped out of her immersion as she slammed her book shut.

"Ah, I, assistant head Julia, it's just you. I was about to start a lesson in just a moment, you see."

In the doorway stood Julia, a lean, stern woman. The teacher spluttered at her as the students began to chitter amongst themselves. Once again, some comforting chaos returned to the clustered room.

But Rowan took no part in it. His breathing was stilted, and he went to grip the pocket near his chest. It was where he stashed loose paper. But there was nothing there.

A hand gently touched his shoulder, knocking him out of his stupor. He had to crane his neck way up to meet the eyes of the towering, lean figure before him.

"Would you come with me, please, Rowan? The Headmaster would like to speak with you."

He rose out of his chair without a sound. Julia, the Assistant Head, nodded and turned, leading him to the door. The class again fell silent at the unusual occurrence, watching him leave with intrusive beady eyes.

The cold air outside the classroom door made him shiver as he approached. Evading his classmates' stares, he stepped outside and left them behind.

'It's cold.'

#####################################

The walk to the Headmaster's office was suspenseful. Though all the passing classes were brimming with chaos, the corridor was almost silent. Some muffled jeers still echoed eerily throughout the hall. However, the Assistant Head paid them no mind.

"Have you been eating well, Rowan?"

He nodded.

Despite her authority as Vice Head, she had always been both gentle and daunting. Ten years had passed since he was left alone in his house. The woman had spoken to him that day and in many that came after. Yet, he couldn't help but feel intimidated by her.

"Then this is it, Rowan. I assume this is to be your last year here?"

He nodded again. The hidden meaning of her words was not lost on him, though. He could keep attending and lingering around the school if he truly wished. As many others still did.

Who would stop him when the Academy was like this?

Clad in a dark velvet jacket, the Assistant Head walked with near-perfect balance. Even though he'd said nothing, her voice remained soft and soothing.

"Being eighteen in just a couple days must make you the oldest in that class, no? Tell me. Why haven't you moved to a class with older students? Or even those you grew up with?"

Rowan raised an eyebrow as he pondered. 'What is she trying to say? Everyone else is doing what they want. But I can't? Is that why she's taking me? Are they going to kick me out?'

Before he could snap back at her, he noticed they'd already arrived outside the Headmaster's office. Gently, she opened the door without even a knock, and together, they entered.

Sweating away inside his office, a stout, bald man gripped his head with a thick, muscular hand. The other fist tapped the rustic dark desk before him. His eyebrows were the only hair on his head, which rose as he watched them enter.

"Just let yourselves into my office, why don't you? So what is this about? Why are the two of you bothering me?"

Julia went to stand by the Headmaster's side whilst Rowan eyed a lone chair in front. Slowly, he approached and sat.

The man before him was huge and dwarfed Rowan. His broad shoulders stretched so wide that he looked to be challenging the grand table before him.

'Now that I think about it, why am I here?' The Headmaster watched Rowan shuffle on his chair before turning to his side. "Well, Julia? What is it?" They shared a long, wistful stare before the Headmaster turned back to Rowan, nodding.

"Finally, a volunteer. So you want to enlist for the Ciln. Try your luck at being a Defected somewhere down the line? Well grea-"

A sharp whack rang out. It had happened so quick that Rowan had missed it. The Headmaster rubbed his bald head, confused as a bright red handprint marked him.

The culprit was indifferent, and her eyes were hidden eerily behind the light reflected in her glasses.

"I brought Rowan here today because I hoped you'd share some much-needed wisdom with him. Not act like a fool."

Rubbing his bald scalp, the man relinquished his arms and rested them across the grand furnished table, almost covering it.

"Your faith in me is stunning. Thank you, Julia. But I'm busy trying to manage a migrant camp here, forget a school. Lord! Who knows when the last time we taught something here was? Yet now you want me to spend my precious time counselling this one brat? So what! Is he your favourite?"

Julia tilted that lean neck of hers. "Well... something like that."

"Alright. I guess that makes it fine, then."

The man chuckled loudly and craned his neck up. Then he slammed his hands into the table with a "Crash!". As his eyes locked onto Rowan's, cracks spread throughout the massive wooden structure. Rowan couldn't help but reel back in his chair, eyes wide.

"It's not fine! What the hell do you expect from me? As busy as I am? So I should just call it how I see it! Is that all you want with me?"

Julia smiled wryly. The bald man turned back to stare down at Rowan from his perch as if ready to spring at him from across the table.

"You know what you young bastards look like... all of you? Cowards. None of you have a modicum of respect, nor do you have any idea of duty? Do you even know what kind of weight I have to carry around?"

Julia suppressed an ironic chuckle while Rowan sat straighter in his chair, fidgeting. The Headmaster continued.

"I have hundreds of blaring, blathering fools outside my window every damn day yelling about this and that, sympathy this, empathy that. Meanwhile, the inside is full of spineless, unruly brats like yourself pouring in from fuck knows where!"

Rowan shrugged and resettled in his chair, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Curious, he strained his ear. He could just make out the audible yells of protestors outside.

"The world's gone to shit ever since the Mist appeared twenty years ago! There's no dam order! It's the cursed people who sit around on chairs all day. Those fools are to blame! They allowed things to get this bad!!"

A glance down at his seated self caused the large man to snarl as he launched his chair with a kick. As if forgetting Rowan's presence, he marched out of the room. "This time! Protestors, brats, they're all gonna listen to me. Mark my words!"

Just like that, he was gone, leaving the office a wreck. Rowan was stuck to his chair. He glanced at the chuckling woman and bit his lip. However, her humour soon wavered as she sighed. The corner of her lips drooped.

"Well, there he goes... that didn't go as planned. It was supposed to be two birds with one stone. What to do now?"

Rowan shook his head. His eyes examined the daunting figure of the woman. 'What is it? What does she want? Bringing me to that idiot. There's no logic there.'

The assistant frowned at Rowan's cold gaze and turned to look outside the office window. Far away, out in the cold, the yells of protestors finally faltered as a deep, vindictive voice bellowed in challenge. The Assistant Head listened in silence, prompting Rowan to finally speak.

"What is it you want with me? Miss?"

"...Well. Obviously, I'm worried about you."

His fist clenched. "Worried? Why?"

Her silent refusal drove him to a stand. She didn't move to confront him. Yet, with her stature, she towered over him.

"How? How could you be worried about me? I have everything I need? I get to live alone in a big house, which I don't pay for. Nobody tells me what to do. I have tons of cash just waiting for me back home... Forget the Contribution. I have enough to. I can-"

Rowan inhaled. "I can do anything. Anything I like. How could you possibly be worried about me? I hardly know you."

Julia listened and tilted her head. Her feelings were hidden by her poised stance and gleaming glasses. But her lips parted a little as she shook her head slowly.

"I don't envy you, Rowan. Not one bit. I can tell. I know how you really feel."

Rowan's eyes were pulled to the ground. In a meek voice that surprised even himself, he muttered. "It's cold in here... Can I go now?"

"Rowan... Despite how the Headmaster seems, I hope you can learn a little from him. I really do."

Rowan's face twisted in distrust, but she simply ignored him.

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't know. So, I'll let you in on a little something. Did you know? The best and the brightest."

Rowan tilted his head. Julia continued, "He's required as Headmaster to recommend. No, I should say offer students to the Ciln. Offer them to oppose the Mist."

Rowan's eyes widened in disbelief. He opened his mouth to protest, yet she interrupted him.

"Even knowing the Mist's survival rate, a mere 10%. He has no choice, really, you see. Even if he... no. When he chooses to reject the Association. It won't be long anyway."

Rowan squinted at her. He'd always known something was off about the slender, looming woman. That thick, dark, velvet cloak of hers. Why hadn't he noticed before? Biting his tongue, he asked, "Long... before what?"

"Until the Mist makes it here, to Civilia."

Rowan's voice failed him as he listened to those chilling words. Everyone understood the scale of danger, so no sane person would have drawn that conclusion. It was pretty simple why... it was because it meant death. It meant that they would die. It meant all of them would eventually be devoured by the creatures that hid beyond the Mist. Or worse, simply swallowed by the Mist itself.

Noticing Rowan's stiffness, she turned and sighed. "Us Civilians. We know so little, and it makes us all so vulnerable."

Civilia was far above sea level, making it the safest of the world's nations. Although its ocean shore was wholly abandoned, it shouldn't have mattered. Here in the centre of Civilia, they were safe from the Mist. Civilians and refugees alike.

"You're smart, Rowan. I know you understand it well. The days when people could live alone with a roof to just themselves and their families are over. Gone. Refugees and rent this year will be the worst yet. You can't just remain idle. That money of yours won't last. The Association will come for you. For people like you with nothing to lose."

Rowan stared at her dark black coat, scowling. Julia's composed posture appeared to slip as her seamless skin wrinkled. "It's been 10 years, Rowan, and I know you miss her..."

Her eyes blinked.

"Your sister volunteered for your sake. She was taken to Montarc and Swallowed there. I intercepted that news this morning."

"Rowan, she's not coming back. I'm sorry."

#######################################################

The way home was colder, more disorienting and greyer than ever. Remembering to return to class or even remembering the way home was of no concern as he walked the foggy path.

His steps were firm yet purposeless, and the fog was thick with the taste of wet vapour. The outlines of his winter shoes grew fainter below him until he could see them no more. But the fog was more than that. It was cold. Dreadfully cold.

'10 Years? Is that all it's been?' Of course, he'd known exactly how long it had been. He knew it to the very day. Julia was right.

Even the simple things. The basic things. Opening the letters, reading them, responding and telling her how grateful he was.

'I couldn't do even that.'

"Why. Why did she do this to me? Montarc. A different nation, was she running away from me? I give up. I don't, I don't deserve to feel like this." As something wet dripped onto his hand, as if awake again, he gazed upwards.

"What?"

Above him, surrounding him, everywhere. It had been a simple fog. A mere veil of vapour, typical for Civilia at this time of year. But he could feel it, sense it all over his body as goosebumps ran across his arms.

Then he saw it. A ghostly glow coalesced into a strange shape. It was reminiscent of both a door and an inviting passage, but he knew it wasn't. He knew it was anything but that.

As he stared into the glowing Mist, he felt it stare back. The smell of wetness and water left him, along with every sense there was. "Oh."

He could no longer feel the goosebumps on his body. He was inside it. And there was nothing left besides a gentle hum that whispered inside his head.

The end.

That's what this was. He didn't let its gentle radiance fool him. He knew what this glowing arch was. Anyone would. Julia probably had no idea exactly how right she had really been.

'She was right about everything. Every last thing.' The first appearance of the Mist in Civlia, and in the centre of all places, had arrived. The first to be Swallowed would be him.

A glance back revealed a glimpse of the grey fog he had walked through. Its mundane shade was very different, grey and simple and distinguishable from the glow around. It was barely visible to him now, but after a slight pause, he didn't choose to rush towards its safety.

He simply stood within the ghostly gate. His body was inconsolable, and it shook with fright as he ignored his reasoning and took a step towards it. His instincts screamed. They fought to wrestle control from him as dread drilled into every inch of his being.

As if slowly sapped from him, his mind became lucid, light, and at ease. With his words, he welcomed it.

"I won't cause you any more trouble. Reina."