Finally, after what felt like hours—still of nothing but twilight, the tracks led me to a decaying bridge stretching across another vast expanse of swamp. The bridge, made of rotting wood and overgrown with moss, seemed to have seen better days, but it represented a way forward. The boot prints disappeared right as they reached the planks, and I had to hope they continued once on the other side. I mean, assuming the person who made them hadn’t just decided to throw themselves off the bridge, right?

Taking a deep breath and gripping my weapons tightly, I began to cross. With each step, the planks groaned beneath me, fortifying my unease. I was careful—I didn’t want something to snap and give me an unneeded plunge into the stagnant waters below. Still, I was moving a little quickly—steppin’ high, but treading light. All around me, the sounds of the swamp continued on placidly, unaware. This place truly was remarkable in that it just existed in its own little sphere, unknown and unblemished by some of the travesties enacted on the wilds of my own home world—or, well, you know what I mean. I’m talkin’ ‘bout Earth. Though, don’t take me for some environmentalist, or anything like that. I just really hate trying to go on a hike to enjoy the natural splendor of nature only to encounter a flyer for a law firm, or a billboard telling you not to abort your unborn babies. You saw that all the time in Kentucky—but here, there hadn’t been any. Hell, this was a completely different world, they might not have even invented billboards at all. Wouldn’t that be a dream?

My pondering caused me to nearly miss something I’d almost forgotten about. There, at the halfway point of the bridge, was a shimmering wave. Ripples. I was shocked, because I guess I’d just assumed it would need to be near water to create that effect, but here, right in the center of a plank were ripples all the same. It almost made it look like a vertigo visual, or like the wood was slowly collapsing in on itself like quicksand. But the way it shimmered…I knew that’s what it had to be.

“Do I do another one?” I said to myself. “I haven’t even mastered Waterwalking yet, so if this thing gives me another spell, that might complicate some things.”

I paused, considering.

“Though, I suppose having as many powerful abilities as possible would only assist me—mastered or not.”

I decided it was worth the potential confusion, and stepped forward until I was on top of the ripple. Much like before, I heard a voice; though this one was a deep, masculine one.

Witness, ye, kin, the footprints of the past. Observe. Absorb.

Again, I felt time slow down as the ripple vision pulled me in. As I felt the strange shift in my perception, I realized I was still on the bridge. Except, it wasn't the same rickety thing I'd been standing on a moment ago. This one was sturdy, though still showing clear signs of age. Was I seeing back in time? Hell, I guess I hadn’t even considered that. I supposed it made sense though, rather than what I’d been thinking—which I am embarrassed to admit was ‘ghosts.’ Still, whatever the case, every plank, every rope seemed as though they could support the engineering of this thing much more. And just like before, I saw a person.

He was tall, with long, wild black hair cascading down his back. His face was hard, rugged, like someone who'd seen too much of the world's harshness. I mean, this guy looked like he could punch out a gorilla. The clothing he wore was... peculiar. A cloak made of vines and moss, maybe? It looked like the swamp had plucked him from within itself and gone and decided to dress him up. But what really caught my eye was the big, nasty scar running down the length of his right forearm. It screamed of a violent past.

The man seemed lost in thought, eyes shut, face scrunched in concentration. And then, with a grace I didn't expect from someone built like a mountain, he started moving his hands. It was mesmerizing, like watching a river over smooth stones. His hands went up together, palms toward him, fingers spread, then he dropped them to his sides before his scarred arm drifted up again. He curled his wrist and brought his left hand up to grip his elbow. Then he released the grip and trailed the left hand horizontally to directly in front of him while the right hand went down to his side again. He flipped his hand palm up and then spread his fingers once more before puffing out his cheeks and blowing softly in that direction, like scattering ashes from his fingertips. I had no clue what he was up to, but I was hooked.

As his hands danced, the swamp began its own ballet. Wisps of mist started rising from the waters, twirling and wrapping around him like serpents made of fog. It was like he was summoning them, and they couldn’t resist his call. Within moments, he was hidden from view, encased in this swirling cloud cocoon.

Driven by curiosity and, let’s be honest, probably sheer stupidity, I moved closer, trying to get a better look. The mist felt cold, almost alive as it brushed against my skin. I had nearly run into him before I actually saw him again, and that was precisely when he made two abrupt, forceful gestures—as if karate chopping the air. Like he was telling the mists to back off, and they listened. As soon as our eyes met, there was this intense connection. His gaze was like a lighthouse in a storm, filled with a fierceness, almost intimidating. It was like he was silently vowing something, a pact that needed no words. His voice resonated in my head, clear as day, "Witness, ye, kin, the footprints of the past. Observe. Absorb."

In a heartbeat, the mists vanished, leaving the bridge clear and the man nowhere to be seen. The vividness of the moment faded, giving way to the unsettling half-light of the Boglands. The soundless voice blossomed in my mind, startling me.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Two positions remain in the Deep-Rooted Array. Place this Galdur in one open position?

I sighed. I’d forgotten about this part already. The incredible pain, the searing burn, the strange sensation of ‘remembering’ new information as though I’d simply misplaced it. Did I really want to experience that again? For, what, fog magic?

It was strange, though. Why make it so painful? Just give people the thing they want—no strings—is what I say. But…well, alright, I’ll admit… if you were to do that, then what would really be the trade-off? You get…free magic—unearned, mind you—and you don’t even have to do anything? Just…boom? Done? I mean, sure, it was apparently some…ancestor thing, but should it really be a gift?

I supposed I sort of got the logic. Whatever the Deep-rooted Array was only had three spots open. Those three spots are painful to fill, right? But the voice had said before that beyond three would require hardship. So…maybe these first three you got with a little bit of torment, but you learned ‘em quick? Stood to reason that beyond that they might make you earn additional ones a different way.

I sighed again.

“Go ahead,” I said.

…Honestly, I don’t think the pain was as bad this go around. I’ll save you the major details, because it was similar to the previous time, but afterward, I felt as if a second spot in the base of my skull was blasted like a tiny furnace. The understanding replaced the pain until I was caught off guard by a…happening.

I heard croaking suddenly. Like, loads of croaking. I glanced down at the planks and saw dozens of frogs of varying sizes and colors had gathered at my feet, hopping and flopping about.

“Eh?” I wondered, stepping back a bit. “Hell is this?”

It was as though every amphibian in the damn swamp had popped up to say hello. I watched them for a moment, wondering if I’d accidentally learned toad summoning. Slowly, the insects from before popped into my memory and I realized what was happening. Just like the bugs with the previous ripple, these frogs began to move, shuffling themselves slowly into place until their configuration resembled letters.

ÓÆÐRI ÞOKULA LÆRÐAR

Then, they shifted, allowing me to understand.

INFERIOR MIST VEIL LEARNED

Another inferior spell? I thought. This must be the rule for beginners, then?

I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d likely save the more advanced stuff for later? Possibly. Whoever “they” were. I guess I shoulda been grateful I’d gotten magic at all—here I was, only a few hours into this world and I was already turning up my nose at spells like I was some sorta sorcery snob. And after those folks in the ripples had so kindly showed me their secrets. I ought to be ashamed.

The memory of that latest vision burned bright in my mind. But…who exactly was that guy? Maybe my great-great-grandpappy? And what was with that scar? There were a lot of open-ended questions still dancing around out here, and I would likely serve myself better by just accepting the stuff handed over to me by ancestors or whoever. So what if it was Inferior Mist Veil? It was magic, wasn’t it? Better’n no Mist Veil at all.

Still…I couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell it was going to help me navigate this godforsaken swamp.

But, ultimately I pushed those thoughts aside and continued my journey across the bridge. As I neared the other end, my attention was drawn to the ground again. Hot diggity-dog, the familiar boot prints from before had reappeared!

However, I noticed that the tracks seemed to be in disarray, shifting and jumbling around. To my surprise, as I tracked the pattern, I noticed they were joined by another set of prints—those of a deer or some similar creature. I had never been much of a hunter, despite what the rest of the world may have thought of my sub-Mason Dixon rearing. But I was from Louisville—a city boy. I was more comfortable dodging bus fare than picking through underbrush. Though I didn’t need to be a woodsy sort to use my eyes. The tracks mingled and tussled, leading off to the side towards a thick patch of cattails.

Curiosity piqued, I squinted at the movement within the bulrushes. They rustled and swayed as if something—or someone—was wading through them. Taking a deep breath, I mustered up the courage to call out, "Hello?" The rustling stopped abruptly, replaced by an unsettling silence. A pang of dread washed over me. I felt the atmosphere grow dense, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

Just when I thought maybe I'd imagined it all, the cattails parted, revealing a grotesque, towering figure. I released an involuntary gasp. This was no man, at least not anymore. It looked like a corpse, but twisted and grotesque, with creeping vines ensnaring it, weaving in and out of its decaying flesh.

Is this some sort of…plant zombie? I thought.

Its height was imposing, and from my estimation, would easily overshadow me by at least a foot. Behind it, it dragged an animal carcass, which I soon recognized as an antelope—or was it a deer? Huge chunks of its body were missing, evidence of the creature's recent feast.

My stomach churned at the sight of its mouth, smeared with blood, the remnants of its last meal still clinging to its grotesque lips. The creature's eyes, or what was left of them, locked onto mine. They were hollow and lifeless, yet they held an intelligence, a hint of its former self. I could see the boots on its feet, laceless and battered and I swallowed the knot in my throat. This was who I’d been pursuing.

Aw, hell.

Every instinct in me screamed to run, but through a different, much more overpowering sensation, my feet stayed glued to the spot. The panic was building, and I tried desperately to get a handle on it. I could only watch as the creature began to shuffle towards the bridge, each step heavy and deliberate. Thoughts raced through my mind. How am I going to get out of this? What is this thing?

But the roar of dread was thunder pounding in my blood. I took one deep breath and let it out as slow as I could muster, gripping my makeshift weapons. Then I did it again, letting my body have the oxygen I knew it was going to need. I prepared myself for what was to come. In too deep, Leo, I thought. Should have run when you had a shot—like when that guy tried to mug you outside O’Doyle's Gastropub. Now you’re screwed, like what happened at the bowling alley. I may not have known the full extent of my newfound powers, but one thing was certain: I was sure as hell going to use them to defend myself.