Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER THREE

The Fog's Judgment

As days went by, Meris made it her mission to find me in my hiding spots each morning. Ever since the time I disappeared for weeks, she had been especially worried. I never told her which hideaway I would use on any given day, but she always checked them all until she eventually found me.

I remained puzzled by how I had managed to sleep for several weeks. I guessed these long sleeps truly could last a very long time, though I had no explanation for why.

Sometimes, Meris brought me rations she sneaked from the dining hall. She would slip away with a small bundle, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone followed, then deliver it into my hands. The temptation to accept was always strong, my stomach churned with hunger, but I knew how much trouble she might face if anyone discovered her theft. I did not want her risking punishment on my account.

The dining hall was the place I looked forward to accessing most once I became an official member of District 98. It distributed free rations twice a day to every member of the District. That was not entirely true for Meris, though, since she was born without District permission. Her parents had to pay a fee each week so she could receive food, but at least she got it. People said the rations were some of the worst-tasting meals imaginable, but compared to the dirt-and-water mix I often relied on, it would be a welcome step up.

Some types of food were produced within the District, though they tended to be expensive for anyone living on a basic allowance. If there was work to be found, things became different, but Meris's parents had been out of steady work for years, except for the occasional commissions Jharim received for his craftsmanship.

The month the advanced class was set to begin, Meris started bringing me a basket of bread every morning. In the evenings, Elina made a simple vegetable soup. We would sit on a low stone ledge outside the residential area and eat together, ignoring the curious stares of passersby. Elina mentioned that both the Captain of the Guard and the Captain of the Chainrunners had donated funds to the library recently due the upcoming class, which allowed her to receive a small portion.

For a while, I felt no gnawing hunger. Because I was no longer so weak, I could stay awake during the day without trembling from exhaustion. That change prompted me to wander District 98 for the first time in many months.

Whenever I walked down the narrow streets, people still eyed me with a mix of worry and something like fear. It dawned on me that most of them had not seen me for ages. At least this time, nobody tried to beat me into another long sleep. My spirits lifted slightly, and I wondered if Elina was right, that maybe they were gradually learning to accept me.

Just as those hopeful thoughts entered my mind, a young girl, no more than five, threw a stone at my face. It struck hard, drawing a trickle of blood across my cheek. Instinct told me to run, but I hesitated, noticing that the adults around her were not joining in. In fact, they were restraining her. Only the little girl stared at me with pure anger.

She shouted, "You killed my father!" Her rage sounded raw, laced with heartbreak. As she reached for another rock, an old woman grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

"How?" I managed to ask, stunned. "Who is your father?" My voice shook with genuine confusion. Had I done something I could not remember?

But the old woman pulled the child along before I could learn more. Later that day, I asked Elina about the girl and learned that her father had died of hunger during the winter. Although the dining hall provided daily food, supplies ran out at one point when the weather was especially harsh. Many people starved, as they did every winter since my arrival. That was the source of the girl's accusation. In her mind, I was to blame for her father's death.

Once again, Elina assured me it was not my fault. Still, guilt lodged itself deep within me, an ache I could not shake. Perhaps I really did deserve to starve, and maybe the District residents were justified in rejecting me.

That evening, the shame felt overwhelming. I could not bring myself to eat the soup. It was the first time in my life I had refused food. Everyone around me understood why and did not push the matter. I left quietly, wandering the District through the cold night and drifting away from the residential zone.

District 98 did not have walls, but there was a city guard equipped with certain artifacts to fight the beasts that sometimes tested our ward. They patrolled the perimeter, though not in numbers sufficient to watch every inch. It was relatively easy to slip near the boundary unnoticed.

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So that was what I did. I walked toward the fog, feeling my heart pound with each step. As I approached, I saw it clearly, the source of our misery and our prison.

I stared into the heavy fog, only a few inches beyond my reach. It loomed and swirled around the District, encasing it like a sinister moat. Perhaps we were fortunate that our ancestors had been in Araksiun when the fog descended, and we were even luckier to have wards to keep the monsters at bay. I could not imagine what lay in the rest of the world outside this shield.

Near the perimeter, the air was shadowy, the District's lights too far to illuminate anything properly. The fog itself, however, remained distinct. I stretched out my hand, my fingers trembling slightly, and made contact. The fog curled around my skin, almost inviting.

The fog that imprisoned us, the fog that caused our suffering.

But had it truly made people starve? Or was I at fault?

I thought about it, letting the cool tendrils of mist envelop my hand. I felt the same quiet kinship I experienced in my dreams. It was reminiscent of the sun's warmth in those fleeting visions, except it manifested here as an odd calmness beneath my fingertips. The cold of the night seemed to recede.

Deep inside, I sensed the fog might be more than a mere harbinger of destruction. There was an inexplicable gentleness to it, something I could not name.

This notion went against everything Elina had taught me, but a stubborn part of me felt the fog was just. I decided it could judge me if it wanted to.

The idea seemed ludicrous, yet I found myself standing there, my arm extended into the swirling haze, waiting for a verdict.

Elina had told me countless times that the fog brought the monsters, and that every creature responsible for our pain lurked within it. Beyond that, we knew nothing. The monsters came with the fog, but we did not know if the fog itself was malicious.

I allowed my entire left arm to remain in the fog, as though I might find some solace by granting it the power to judge me. Any monster could have seized me. I would have been defenseless, and I knew it.

Even so, I stayed there. My memories of District 7 were just as foggy. People had asked how I survived the journey from District 7 to District 98. My only recollection was walking until I saw lights, then being carried inside by a patrol. I assumed the monsters had been too busy destroying District 7 to notice a small boy on the road, or maybe the fog itself had spared me that day.

For nearly half an hour, I kept my arm outstretched. No monster approached. Nothing stirred, aside from the fog wrapping around me. Eventually, I glimpsed a faint lantern glow from a patrol guard drawing near.

"Thank you," I whispered into the stillness. Oddly, it comforted me. I realized I had not caused the father of that little girl to die. Famine, borne by the monsters in the fog, had done that. I was only the omen, the unfortunate sign of change that arrived when the Districts fell.

The land of Araksiun was renowned for its strong magical properties, perhaps produced by the city itself or by the great ward that some claimed was weakening. Because of that power, the city endured the ravages of time. Buildings here, while battered by beasts or neglect, barely needed repairs to keep standing. That same magical influence helped to preserve water sources and prevented food from spoiling too quickly.

Nevertheless, the city lay in partial ruins, assaulted by the fog's monsters. People said the ancient Araksiun residents never anticipated the challenge of cultivating enough food within the city itself.

We in District 98 stood on the outskirts of this particular region. The nearby districts were 100, 99, 97, 96, and 95, arranged roughly in a circular chain in which the district after 100 was District 1. Long ago, District 7 and other lower districts had also formed part of that same line, but they were gone now, destroyed on the day I arrived. On the opposite side of us, the line ended at District 95, where many higher-numbered districts had likewise disappeared long before.

District 7, along with other lower districts, had once possessed artifacts capable of growing vast amounts of food, which they traded to us. Without those lower districts, District 98 struggled to produce enough food for all its people. Our neighboring districts also lacked strong cultivation artifacts, so more and more residents went hungry every winter.

That was what had happened to the father of that little girl—he starved, undone by the same monsters who ruined our trade lines. It was never my doing. I was merely the omen, an unintentional herald of destruction. No more, no less.

That night was mild. It did not rain, and the cold was bearable. Even though I had not touched Elina's soup, I did not feel any hunger. I still tasted the bread I had eaten that morning. More than that, I felt a surprising warmth in my heart, something I attributed to the fog's strange comfort.

I lay down on the stone floor of one of my usual hiding spots. From there, I could watch the fog hovering just beyond the ward's boundary, a hazy barrier that glowed faintly in the night. I observed it until my eyes grew heavy, and before long, sleep overtook me.

That night, I dreamed again. Even though the dream ended in pain, I focused on its beginning. The trees there were incredible—lush and tall, the kind I had read about but never seen in real life. Elina once mentioned there were a few districts that still housed living trees, and I hoped someday I might witness them with my own eyes.

Above all, in my dream, there was the sun—radiant and warm. It brought light, it brought life.

I wondered if it was truly real, seeing as I had never glimpsed anything beyond the fog.

Perhaps one day, I would dare to venture beyond it, maybe even beyond the walls of Araksiun itself.