Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER TWO

Wards of Araksiun

That winter was harsher than any I remembered, with snow falling often and piling up in tall drifts against the buildings and walkways of District 98. Elina once told me about animals that survived outside in the cold by using snow as a sort of shield. I tried to imitate them, although I never really grasped the method. On nights when the snowfall grew heavy, a thick layer would settle over me, and then the long sleeps would come.

I began wondering if those stories of animals slumbering safely beneath the snow were merely mystical tales. Days slipped by without my noticing. One time, when I returned from one of my hiding spots, Meris insisted I had been gone for weeks. Elina and Jharim were beside themselves with relief, peppering me with questions about where I had been. Where else could I have gone? As far as anyone knew, people who left the District never came back. Still, they pressed me to detail every one of my hiding places.

Eventually, winter's grip loosened. When the snow at last receded, I felt a quiet, internal gratitude. Even more, I felt a small thrill upon learning that Elina was going to start another class, an advanced one. She was not only the District's sole librarian, but also responsible for teaching select students, whether the District council deemed them promising or their families could afford tuition. Elina never received the full payment for her efforts. Only a small portion went to her, while the bulk went directly to the District library.

One of our few neighboring districts still traded with us for paper, so Elina copied books to sell and, as she often said, to "keep humanity's history alive." During a beginner class, she had taught me to read and write. My handwriting remained clumsy, since I had not practiced much beyond drawing stick-letters in dirt whenever I found the chance.

An advanced class only happened when the District decided there was sufficient demand, because it required precious supplies like ink and paper, as well as the teaching facility itself. It also required Elina's undivided time as librarian. This meant I would soon share a room with people who hated me, and some who would become influential in District 98. The thought did not truly bother me. I reasoned that, as long as they did not beat me into another long sleep, I could manage.

Meris, on the other hand, felt uneasy about meeting these new people. Elina worried too, mainly on my behalf. She believed if I made a good impression, it would smooth my path when I eventually became a blacksmith's apprentice and officially joined District 98.

Because of this, Elina and Jharim spent some of their savings on new clothes for Meris and me. I vividly recalled them returning with bundles of cloth, looking excited yet anxious, as if hoping this gamble would pay off. Now, they wanted me to try on these clothes.

"I do want people to accept me," I said one afternoon, picking up a thin, flimsy shirt from the pile. "But I do not see the point. This cloth seems useless. It is not warm, and the sleeves are tiny."

We were in Elina's living area, a cramped but tidy space above the library. Outside, I heard footsteps echoing against the wooden hallway. Within the room, stacks of papers and stray books lined every corner, creating a snug, cluttered atmosphere.

Elina guided my attention toward another shirt of similar style. "The classes will take place in the library, which is heated," she explained. "It would look strange if you wore heavy clothes indoors."

"Yes, but I cannot use it outside," I replied, rubbing the shirt's light fabric between my fingers. "It seems like it would tear if I brushed against anything."

"You are not supposed to wear it outdoors at all." She gave me a firm look. "Only during classes. I do not want you ruining these nice clothes." She showed me another garment, this one patched in a few places, yet still far nicer than anything I owned.

I frowned. "So what is the point if I cannot wear them anywhere else? Should I just save them for when I become an apprentice?"

Elina shook her head. "No. By then, you will have outgrown them."

Again, the question gnawed at me. "So these clothes are only for wearing in the library and nothing else?"

"Yes. You will keep them with Jharim's clothes and change before class. I already spoke with our neighbors, and they agreed to let you come to the residential area to change," she said, straightening a stack of papers on a side table. The lamplight caught the worry in her eyes, yet she offered a reassuring half-smile.

Spending money on clothes solely to make a good impression felt strange to me. That money could have bought food or warmer garments. Still, I knew it was Elina and Jharim's decision, not mine. They were going out of their way to purchase clothes that actually fit me, garments without holes or stains passed down from people who had never woken from their long sleeps.

Abruptly, Meris interrupted my thoughts. "Where are you right now?" she asked, her voice cutting through my reverie.

"What?" I replied, blinking in confusion.

"You looked like you were in another world," Meris teased, poking my arm. "I called your name, but you did not hear me at all."

"Ah… sorry," I mumbled. "I was just thinking about all this."

Meris continued to examine the fabric of the clothes, running her fingertips over the stitching. "Do you dislike them?"

"No, no, they are fine," I said, shaking my head. "I just think it is a waste if it is all for show."

Elina stepped closer, her gaze steady. "Listen, I know it might seem wasteful, but you are young. Trust me on this. In a few years, when you become an apprentice, it will help if people already see you as part of District 98."

"I understand," I said, sighing. "I guess I tend to think in the short term. You always tell me to look further ahead, but I am used to scraping by each day."

Elina gave a gentle nod. She mentioned that three of the children who would attend the advanced class came from families possessing powerful artifacts. Two belonged to the District guard, and one was from a Chainrunner lineage.

"I know why I need to make a good impression," I said, hesitating a moment before adding, "but why does Meris need so many dresses?"

Before I even finished speaking, Meris flushed bright red. Her jaw tightened, and without a word, she stormed out of the cramped living room. Books on a nearby shelf rattled at the force of her footsteps.

Elina burst into laughter. "Let us just say you two have different reasons for dressing nicely," she told me, her tone affectionate. "Survival matters, but so does truly living."

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Her words baffled me. Elina often said things that took a while to sink in, and this seemed like another puzzle. I gazed at the clothes in my hands, thinking about warmth, appearances, and the future I never felt certain I would have. Maybe one day, I would understand what she meant. For now, I simply tucked the shirt under my arm, feeling the weight of the fabric.

"Also, before I forget, take this," Elina said. She handed me a sturdy book bound in plain leather and filled with empty pages, along with a slightly worn pencil. "Do not worry. These materials were provided by the District. You will use them for your assignments and to take notes during the advanced class."

I blinked at the book, noticing how thick the stack of pages was. Crafting paper was notoriously expensive, and this volume alone must have cost a small fortune in resources.

"Thank you, Elina," I replied, carefully turning a few of the blank pages. "But I want to know, how did you manage to get the District to accept me into this advanced class? Please tell me you did not spend your own money on it." My voice carried a flicker of concern. It felt strange that I, of all people, would be among those selected. I was not the type anyone considered promising.

Elina shook her head, giving me an easy smile as she set the rest of her papers on a nearby table. Light filtered in through the small window of her cramped study above the library, illuminating a soft layer of dust on the shelves. "Do not worry about that," she said. "Believe it or not, your name was suggested by the Captain of the Chainrunners. Odd, right? Maybe people are already starting to accept you, and you have not even realized it."

"What?" I felt a pang of surprise. "But why? She has never even met me."

Elina raised an eyebrow. "Has she not? Everybody knows who you are, even in neighboring districts. Think about it, how many people do you believe have survived a failed ward and walked through the thick fog to another district? According to our records, there is exactly one."

Her words struck me like a hammer blow, reminding me yet again that my presence here was not exactly a secret. I had hoped they would forget my story eventually, stop whispering that I was the bad omen.

Elina did not give me time to dwell on that. "Anyway," she continued, tapping the cover of my new notebook with a slender finger, "this is your next assignment. You should write a report on the history of the districts. I am asking all the students to do this, so I can figure out their level of knowledge before the class begins."

I glanced around the study, where the smell of old paper mingled with the faint tang of ink. Elina's request felt straightforward, but I knew how serious she was about history. She often said she wanted everyone to understand the past so that humanity's achievements were never completely lost.

She believed we once possessed a wealth of knowledge, the same knowledge that once elevated humanity to great heights. But when the fog arrived, bringing danger and chaos, people focused solely on survival. Over centuries, our history and technology slipped away, piece by piece. Elina insisted that we had to think long term or risk repeating the same tragic mistakes.

I accepted the task eagerly. Elina was the most learned person I knew, and I wanted to learn more about the world she described. After leaving her study, I spent the rest of the day settled in a quiet corner of the library, scribbling out what I called my "report on the history of the districts."

The districts, I noted, were all part of the massive city called Araksiun. Once, according to the ancient texts Elina showed me, this city teemed with tens of millions of humans who lived together in a sprawling metropolis, weaving wonders of both science and magic.

Then one day, the fog came. Nobody truly knew why or how it originated; that knowledge had vanished long ago. The ancient people of Araksiun seemed to have foreseen its arrival, though. They prepared by dividing the metropolis into several hundred districts, each protected by an Obelisk at its center, the same sort of towering structure we relied on here in District 98.

These Obelisks sustained an invisible ward that defended each district from the fog and the creatures that prowled within it. Some people argued there used to be a single great ward that covered the entire city before it was destroyed. Others believed the great ward merely weakened. Still others claimed Araksiun was the only world that ever existed. Elina disliked that last notion vehemently, branding it "shortsighted."

At times, she quoted records mentioning distant districts close to the "city walls" of Araksiun. She said Chainrunners from that area once glimpsed those immense walls, even adding sketches in their logs. It suggested our city was bordered by something tangible, yet no one had set eyes on anything beyond those walls in thousands of years. Most people considered it only a legend, but Elina believed we should not dismiss evidence just because it lay in the past.

The city itself supposedly stretched for hundreds of kilometers. If there had indeed been a great ward spanning its entirety, the Obelisks alone would have had to be capable of expanding their coverage to maintain it. Over time, though, many districts fell, either failing on their own or succumbing to monsters in the fog. Very little remained certain.

We did know that certain creatures could somehow breach the ward or undermine it. Sometimes, they even destroyed it outright, opening the way for the hordes of the fog to pour in. That was precisely what took place on the day of my arrival, multiple wards in neighboring districts collapsed in a single night, letting monsters wipe out entire populations.

The District Council announced that these wards must have been critically weakened for such a catastrophe to happen simultaneously, though it remained hard to believe it occurred to so many districts in close proximity.

This was the central problem with the wards: whoever created these failsafes against the fog had probably never intended them to last forever. Over thousands of years, the wards weakened dramatically, losing their ability to shield the districts effectively.

Some said each district's ward needed a kind of "fuel," possibly something produced by ancient Araksiun, or something once manufactured in specialized facilities. In any case, the Obelisks were steadily running out of it. That decline began over two thousand years ago, at least in the few districts that still held on. Because the knowledge about the Obelisks was lost long before the wards started failing, nobody really understood how to repair them. Their technology was beyond anything we could replicate today.

Elina once had rare permission to study District 98's Obelisk up close, recording her observations in a registry. She described components and runic inscriptions that appeared more advanced than any other artifact discovered in Araksiun so far, even more intricate than the famed Dawnbreak Bow rumored to be held by the Chainrunner Captain.

Despite our ignorance, we discovered at least one manual control: we could reduce the ward's power usage by shrinking its area of influence. This meant the district's territory got smaller, but it allowed the ward to stay active longer, buying time against the fog. That was why District 98's footprint had receded to the cramped territory we lived in. Countless facilities had been abandoned as the boundary contracted over the centuries.

Furthermore, the neighboring districts, once connected seamlessly, were now separated from each other by a few kilometers of monster-infested gloom. That was how the Chainrunners came to exist. Originally, they were designed as a unified logistics force to distribute goods and resources among districts. Over time, though, each branch became independent, transforming into a roving, combat-ready trade network. Chainrunners traveled those kilometers of deadly no-man's-land outside the wards, running and fighting anything that threatened their convoys.

Elina told me the Chainrunners were once the bravest of humanity's explorers. But everything decays eventually, and so did they. Because their death rate soared, becoming a Chainrunner had devolved into a kind of punishment in many districts. Criminals were forced into service, condemned to risk their lives beyond the ward.

That made me think about the Captain of the Chainrunners from District 98, the same one who had requested my presence in the advanced class. Perhaps she planned to recruit me. After all, she had the authority to do almost anything, armed with a powerful artifact and a fearsome reputation. If she wanted to throw me into their ranks as a forced recruit, there would be few who dared object.

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, imagining a life as a Chainrunner. Then I recalled that her son would also attend the advanced class. Maybe I would talk to him about it, if he was willing to speak with me. The thought brought a nervous flutter to my stomach, but it was better than pondering the many ways the Captain herself might coerce me.

I set those worries aside, my pencil hovering above the page. The last section of my report—the day I arrived—felt like the hardest part to write. It was the day all those districts fell, including the one I presumably came from. What could I say, really? I remembered nothing of that journey except arriving at District 98's ward.

I stared at the blank lines, the memory of thick fog swirling in my mind. Eventually, I sighed.

Perhaps I would leave that section empty.