The Mists Of Arraiza, Part One

The mists called to him, and because of that, the world would never be the same.

~Records of Grellish Steelborn, Knights of the Mist

Henry lay on the stiff hospital bed, the steady beeping of machines the only sound cutting through the silence. His eyes, red from tears, stared at the ceiling. He could hear his mother’s soft breathing from the chair beside him, where she had fallen asleep hours ago. His little sister, curled up in the corner with a blanket, had done the same. They'd soon be leaving, letting him rest—or at least try to. But rest was elusive.

The tumor was inoperable.

The words replayed in his mind over and over, a bitter mantra. His chest tightened, and fresh tears blurred his vision. The endless poking, prodding, and treatments hadn't worked. Stage four. Too late. The doctors had done their best, but all they had left to offer now was time.

Just not enough of it.

Of all the cancers to get, it had to be pancreatic cancer—a death sentence. Henry remembered sitting in his Introduction to Education Studies class last semester, watching a video of a professor in his forties, fit and healthy, doing pushups in front of his students. The professor died just a couple of months later. He could still hear the video: It’s a death sentence.

Why me?

He had always been kind, always stood up to bullies and helped others. And this was how it was going to end? His bright future, gone before it even began. Before he could do more with his life than be the first in his family to go to college.

He wanted to scream, but his body was too weak. Instead, he cried quietly, trying not to wake his family. He clenched his hands into fists, wanting—needing—something to change.

Then, as if in answer, the air around him began to change.

A strange, crimson mist curled into the room, tendrils of red seeping through the cracks in the door, coiling like snakes. His breath hitched, and his heart raced. What was happening?

Before he could call out, the mist surrounded him, wrapping his body in warmth. A pulse of energy surged through him. The machines began to sputter, flickering with static. Henry tried to reach out, to yell, but the words caught in his throat.

The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the red mist consuming the room, his sister, and his mother.

"Where am I?" Henry whispered, awe-struck. The surroundings were surreal, like stepping into one of the fantasy realms he'd only ever explored on screen. He half-expected to hear the tinkling laughter of a fairy or the distant melody of an ocarina.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the disorientation.

"Did I hit my head? Where am I?" His voice sounded softly, swallowed by the vastness of the cavernous space. There was no reply—only the gentle sound of water and the faint rustling of an unseen breeze.

A sudden shift in the atmosphere pulled him from his thoughts. An angry red mist seeped into the cavern, curling along the ground like tendrils of smoke. It pulsed with malevolent energy, casting eerie shadows that danced across the ornate carvings of the fountain.

A mouse darted across the ground, desperate to escape, but it was too slow. The mist’s tendrils closed in with greedy, grasping fingers, swirling around the small creature. It froze as the red fog poured into its body, limbs twisting at unnatural angles.

But before Henry could see what it might become, the creature vanished into the fog. A chill ran down his spine. This mist was similar to the one in the hospital room, yet different—no longer just hungry, it now pulsed with anger, a seething wrath that seemed to warp everything it touched.

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"Okay, this doesn't look good," he muttered. His mind raced through different scenarios trying to figure . And it was clear he needed to escape.

He spun around, searching for an exit, but found himself facing solid cavern walls. The intricate patterns etched into the stone offered no hidden doorways or clues. Trapped. The realization tightened like a vice around his chest. He shuddered, his strength wavering.

The mist thickened, its tendrils reaching closer. Within it, shapes seemed to form and dissipate—twisted figures that made his stomach churn.

A voice emerged from the mist, barely more than a whisper. "Save me..."

The voice was fragile, filled with despair. Henry's breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he swore he heard his sister’s voice, his mother’s. His heart pounded harder. Were they here? Were they in danger? He had to help them. They needed him.

He took a shaky breath, his pulse quickening—not entirely from fear.

"Mom?" he whispered, but there was no response—just the mist swirling, a malicious laugh on the edge of his hearing.

Henry pulled off his hospital gown, fashioning it into a makeshift mask over his mouth and nose. The fabric smelled of antiseptic and illness—a small reminder of where he'd come from. Holding his breath, he stepped toward the mist.

To his surprise, the red vapor recoiled, swirling away from him as if pushed by an invisible force. Emboldened, Henry took another step.

"Not so scary after all," he chuckled nervously, still thinking of the voice, still believing they might be out there. He headed towards where he heard the cry for help.

But his confidence was premature. Without warning, a sharp pain exploded behind his knee as something struck him hard. He cried out, collapsing onto one knee. The voice from the mist transformed, its tone dripping with malice. The mutated mouse scampered off It laughed—a sound that resonated unnaturally, grating against his senses.

"Foolish boy," it hissed. "You should have run."

The mist swirled violently, and from its depths, shadowy forms began to materialize—grotesque shapes with glowing eyes that fixed hungrily upon him.

Henry’s heart pounded, panic surging through him—but beneath it, a flicker of determination sparked to life. He’d thought it was his sister or his mom; he still wanted to believe that. But now, he wasn’t sure. Whatever this mist was, he wouldn’t be its victim. Not without a fight. And besides, what more did he have to lose? If he was going down, he’d make sure to take something with him.

As the grotesque shapes took clearer form, Henry staggered back. They were human-like but twisted—joints bending the wrong way, limbs too long, and faces contorted with madness. One of them, a shadowy figure with crimson eyes, lurched toward him, its movements jerky yet swift.

"Run!" his instincts screamed. But the echo of the voice—‘Save me’—clashed with the primal urge to flee. His knees locked in place. Fight or flight? He had seconds to decide.

Suddenly, something glinted in his peripheral vision. The air shimmered, and from within the mist, a small object floated toward him. It was a slender wooden wand, delicately carved with symbols he couldn't comprehend. At its end was embedded a crystal that pulsed faintly, in rhythm with his racing heartbeat.

His hand moved on instinct, seizing the wand. The moment his fingers closed around it, a surge of warmth flooded his arm, chasing away the numbness from the mist. It hummed in his grip, as if it had been waiting for him.

The monsters hesitated, their eyes narrowing. The largest of the shadowy creatures snarled, its mouth opening impossibly wide, jagged teeth bared. "You dare challenge us with Her relic?" it hissed, advancing.

This is it, Henry thought. No turning back.

Raising the wand, he pointed it toward the mist. He had no idea how to use it, but deep down, he felt something stir within the crystal at its core, responding to his intent.

The mist recoiled again, more violently this time. Swirling tendrils twisted and funneled toward the tip of the wand, consumed by it. A shockwave rippled through the air as the mist was devoured, leaving the ground bare and the monstrous forms wailing in agony.

Panting, Henry stared at the wand in disbelief. He’d just captured... something. The mist, the monster—it was inside. But there was no time to celebrate—another wave of the red fog was creeping forward, carrying more grotesque creatures.

A shrill laugh echoed in the cavern. "The wand will save you once, boy. But not forever."

Closing his eyes, he waved the wand, hoping it could work again, but the wand didn’t respond.

His heart pounded as he backed away. He had to find a way out, now. The creatures began to charge.

But then, he heard it again, beyond the fountain, the faint sound of wings fluttering reached his ears. And a tiny whisper of a "Save me. I'm trapped in the fountain."

Without thinking, he rushed forward and knocked the fountain over. Water spilled out in every direction, and the stone cracked and crumbled.

And then, nothing happened. Henry was left staring at the pile of rubble, confused.