Groaning Avar awoke on the floor, he looked around the room which appeared to be covered in a strange haze. The air was stale indicating the place hadn’t got any fresh air in quite a while. Quietly standing up he ventured out the door to explore the quiet house.

“Dad? Vance?” He called out to the seemingly empty house.

“Hello is any one here?! Where am I…”

Rubbing his eyes had no effect in clearing the haze from his vision, Avar glanced around the abode thinking it seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn’t place why. After exploring the house he came to a unnerving discovery; there were no windows nor any exits to be seen!

The house itself wasn’t large being one floor and only three small rooms two of which looked lived in with beds and small table drawers yet no sign of the occupants. One of the rooms was locked behind a wooden door where any attempt to open it was met with failure the door being far more durable than normal.

“Is anyone in there?” Avar hurriedly knocked on the door when there was no response he pushed his ear to the door and for a moment he heard nothing then he picked up faint whispering from behind the door, “I can hear you in there! Open the door please! I don’t know where I am and I can’t find the exit!” He yelled but only empty silence greeted him. No matter how hard he strained his hearing he couldn’t detect any more sound from beyond the door as if he only imagined it.

Time seemed meaningless in this strange house as he struggled to recall any memories that lead to him being here but no matter how hard he tried the memories were vague and fleeting. Sitting down with his back to the locked door Avar tucked his legs resting his head on his knees.

“I just wanna go home… where are you Vance…” The house remained silent as the haze grew deeper.

……………..

Vance startled awake from the sound of someone knocking on his door quickly getting up he stumbled almost collapsing his entire body weak and sore. Gathering himself Vance headed towards the front door taking a glance backward over his shoulder toward his brother’s room with worried eyes before answering the door.

Awaiting him outside was Juliere, one of the village’s Mistwalkers who work as guards and scouts, wrapped in the traditional scouting attire designed for easy flowing movements able to blend in to the mists with it’s off-white coloration. Her dark brown eyes seemed to pierce through his soul.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“Harrul sends for you.” She paused for a moment, “You’ve been absent for three days now Vance, you shouldn’t take shortcuts in improving your Soul Level… thankfully it seems you haven’t suffered any major side effects.”

Grimacing Vance shook his head slightly, “I can’t afford to take my time right now with how unpredictable the mists have been. I refuse to stand by and do nothing, Avars my only kin.”

Crossing her arms Juliere gazed at him then sighed before turning away pointing eastward, “Go. Harrul will not wait much longer.” She left without waiting for a response heading towards the barracks near the Elder’s home.

Taking a few steps towards town Vance froze, “Three days…?” Eyes wide he rushed back in his house into his brother’s room before breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing the candles were still lit. He patted Avar’s forehead with a fresh washcloth then touched the candle flames to strengthen them with his own and nodded in satisfaction before leaving. Stretching out his sore muscles Vance started walking across town nodding at passing villagers, streets of cobblestone crisscrossed throughout Briarhaven broken up only by squat wooden houses, the occasional thatch huts and towering trees with barbed leaves that gave the village its name.

After walking for five minutes Vance arrived in front of a large stone building shooting smoke upwards through it’s chimneys covering the area in a light smog, settling his nerves he went to the door to knock but before he could the door opened by itself and Harrul’s familiar deep voice called out from deep in the dark room beyond, “Vance. You are late, boy. Enter.”

Entering through the doorway Vance paused as what greeted him was an almost pitch black room he carefully stepped forward as the stone door behind him closed. As Vance considered what to do the room suddenly lit up with floating blue orbs of flame revealing Harrul’s large form standing in the middle of the room glaring at Vance before grunting, “Your Soul Level is weak. Creating your Lantern will not be easy for you. Saldim will check in on your brother while you are here.” He gestured behind him at a stone table engraved with strange markings and lined with iron cuffs, “We will start by stabilizing your Soul so you won’t die trying to create your Lantern,” his glowing blue eye seemed amused, “It will be painful, more so than the baptism, the price for this shortcut. Make yourself comfortable.”

Vance stared determinedly at the towering smith, “I will endure and succeed. The mists will not wait.” Walking forward he tripped almost face planting on the stone floor, the culprit being a small bronze turtle slowly crawling along the ground, Harrul’s eyebrow twitched “Watch your step.” Slightly embarrassed Vance moved forward with more caution arriving at the engraved table carefully laying down on it. Harrul slowly locked Vance’s limbs down with the iron cuffs then placed his hand on the table which glowed with a fiery purple flame that faded away before the engraving suddenly lit up with the same color as the flame.

Vance felt an intense heat burrow into his body through his back grunting at the intensifying pain forcibly willing himself to endure, his veins started to glow through his skin. Nodding Harrul pulled a knife made from white bone out of his belt which was also lightly engraved but the edges were replaced by sharp black steel, “The real pain will start now.” The one-armed blacksmith traced the tip of the knife over Vance’s glowing veins starting on his left leg.

The instant the knife touched his skin Vance almost blacked out from the pain that shot through his body, gritting his teeth he couldn’t even muster the strength to scream, his limbs that were firmly locked in place strained but found no release.

“Not bad, boy” Harrul said casually while slowly tracing with the knife, “You remind me of your father. Never was quite skilled at much but he worked the hardest and was the most experienced.” Vance barely registered what the smith was saying his concentration fully focused on enduring the pain to avoid passing out, “Held his own quite well pain never bothered him.” He mused continuing to prod Vance’s veins only barely halfway done with his left leg.

It took the entire day and well in to the night before Harrul finally finished stabilizing Vance’s soul. Cracking his neck and finger bones the giant smith put away his bone knife looking over the fading veins on Vance’s shivering body while he removed the iron cuffs from his limbs, “You may rest now. Tomorrow we will begin creating your Lantern.”

Vance struggled with bloodshot eyes to move his limbs but the residual pain finally caused him to pass out.