Elies tightly held Hazelmere’s hand, ignoring the pain shooting through his palms. “So Chestplate was full of it!” He exclaimed. “Thank the gods, you’re alive!” He looked past her. “And Ayko? Does he live?”

Hazelmere slipped her hand free. “He’s alive, but…” She looked off to the side. “We got separated.” A frown tugged at her lips. “Just like she said we would.”

Elies tilted his head. “…Who?”

Hazelmere shook her head. “There’s something about this mist. My magic doesn’t work in it.”

“Yours either, huh?” Elies said with a sigh. He turned away from her and sat beneath a tree. “So we’re a pair of barnacles, then.”

Hazelmere’s brow twitched. “Perhaps…” She shook her head again, letting her words trail off.

“We can only wait it out,” Elies huffed. “No way it’s forever.”

A slight frown twisted Hazelmere’s face, but she sat next to him, regardless, her arms holding her knees to her chest. She glanced at Elies as he adjusted his wrappings, the frustration on his face clear as day.

“Like this, Elies,” Hazelmere said, taking his hands.

She removed the leaves from around his hands and crushed them with her own, turning them to goo. Flipping his hands over, she exposed his raw palms and slathered them in the leaves' pulp.

Elies winced as his palms sizzled. Steam rose from his hands, and his gashes turned glistening to dull. He smiled and opened and closed his hands. The stinging pain was still there, but it had dulled noticeably.

Elies laughed. “You’re a lifesaver!”

Hazelmere gave him a narrow smile. “I had to teach Ayko the same,” she said. “Remember when he challenged Yarrow for the very first time?”

Elies bellowed. “Aye! Never seen so many bruises in my life!”

Hazelmere laughed but then lowered her head. Her ears drooped. “I hope he’s alright,” she said quietly.

“You said it yourself. My brother’s alive,” Elies said.

“I’m concerned about Yarrow,” Hazelmere replied. “These ears…this nose…ever since this mist showed up, I can hear and smell everything and everyone. Ayko, you, Ilta, my grandmother, but not Yarrow. He’s just…gone.”

Elies gave her a puzzled look. “You can smell them? Then why in the Inferno are we sitting here?”

Hazelmere sighed. “There is no way to them. Not until the mist thins.”

Elies heaved a sigh of his own. “Ilta,” he said. “Don’t die on me.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“She’s found someone, I’m sure,” Hazelmere said, staring ahead as if searching for something. “Have you noticed what happens when we try to leave? How we keep walking in circles?”

Elies nodded. “Where are you going with this?”

“I think this mist brought us here and, more than that, brought us together for one reason or another.”

Elies cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Whether it’s alive or some guardian angel conjured it up, it’s shielding us from something,” Hazelmere said. That’s why it won’t allow us to leave—at least not yet.”

Elies grunted. “Well, if it talks to you, can you tell it to feed us?” He winced and clutched his growling stomach.

“Oh! Are you hungry, Elies?” Hazelmere asked, smiling warmly. She fished into her knapsack and pulled out a pair of raw Mimbleroots, beige in hue and dry as dirt.

Elies nodded and took one, scarfing down the talon-shaped root in two bites. “Tastes like it always does.”

Hazelmere giggled. “Like snow.”

“Like home.” Elies laid his head against the tree at their backs. “Where will we go next, Hazelmere?”

“Somewhere with meat, I hope,” Hazelmere replied. She crunched on her Mimbleroot and gagged.

Their conversation petered out as the day went on, with Elies staring into the mist for hours on end. His gaze was vacant, but his thoughts plagued him well into the evening. Will I be welcomed anywhere else? He had asked himself over and over again.

Hazelmere occasionally snapped him out of his thoughts, taking his hands to tend to his wounds. She eventually flashed him a worried look. “We’ll persevere, Elies,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “All of us.”

Elies eventually drifted off to sleep, with Hazelmere doing so first. Still, it was a sleepless night—he twisted and turned, his vision filled with images of a woman with golden hair and eyes, the same woman who had filled every one of his dreams lately. At times, she sat across a table long as a river, and at others, the other side of a gorge, but she was always out of reach. He’d stand and reach for her, only for her to smile at him, flashing the magic symbols etched on her teeth.

“You mustn’t sleep, Oberon,” she cooed, outstretching her arms like a doting mother. “You must come to me.”

Elies snapped open his eyes upon hearing Hazelmere’s distant voice. His body swayed from side to side—she had shaken him awake.

“Elies.” Hazelmere’s blurred visage grew clear, and she removed her hands from his chest. “Were you having a bad dream?”

Elies sat up. “I don’t know.”

Hazelmere didn’t move from his side, the half-elf sitting on her knees. “You can tell me, you know.”

Elies stared off into the distance. “Whenever I close my eyes, I see a woman’s face. She’s even prettier than Ilta, Hazelmere, but for some reason, I’m not attracted to her.” He shook his head. “I’m not afraid of her, either, but curious.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Maybe she’s a Succubus.”

Hazelmere eyed him incredulously, her slight smile showing she was amused. “Even Ilta’s not a succubus, Elies.” Her smile faded. “Would it surprise you if I said I had the same dream?”

Elies raised his eyebrows.

“Did she call you anything?” Hazelmere asked.

“Oberon,” Elies answered. “Over and over again. What about you?”

“Celeste,” Hazelmere said with a frown. “She shows me…visions, places she wants me to go, but it's not clear at all. One moment, I’m standing at some castle’s gates, and then after that, I’m overlooking a city half-buried in snow.” Hazelmere looked up thoughtfully. “Come to me, Celeste. It’s all she says.” She sighed and placed her chin in her hands. “Yarrow would be able to make sense of it. If only he were here.”

“I hope the old bastard’s alive,” Elies said.

“As do I,” Hazelmere replied. “But we have to move forward with or without him or the others. He would want us to—my grandmother, too.”