Heir of the Fog

CHAPTER SIX

Winter Beneath the Ward

That year passed uneventfully after those experiments. The advanced class proved worthwhile, and in addition to history and science, Elina taught us what little we understood about ancient Araksiun technology.

Unfortunately, information on magic remained scarce, and even Elina herself knew only fragments and rumors.

Tarin eventually stopped being such an annoyance—although he kept a cautious watch on me whenever our paths crossed.

Meanwhile, Meris seemed pleased to have new friends from farther parts of the district. To be honest, I did not think Meris had any other close friends besides me before this. Now, she was growing close to Hana and Cedric, chatting with them at the library or in the narrow streets whenever they met.

Sometimes, I wandered near the edge of the ward, recalling my experiments. I would peer beyond the boundary, where the fog drifted thickly over broken roads. I was tempted to venture out, but a deep fear of the monsters held me back.

Life settled into a monotony, though I did get opportunities to help Jharim in his forge work for the Chainrunners. The clang of metal and the roar of the furnace became oddly soothing, despite the tension many Chainrunners carried when they visited.

Elina mentioned I had gained some weight over the past year, probably because I was no longer starving every day. Even so, I knew I remained thin compared to someone like Tarin or the Highrows.

As the months slipped by, winter arrived once again. I still went to "bed" with a full stomach in those days, whatever bed meant for a drifter like me, but the cold seemed harsher than ever. During the winter, the advanced class was suspended, as were most district activities, and scheduled to resume once the season ended.

With winter came bitter nights in District 98. Food production halted entirely, and the dining hall ceased distributing rations. Meris and her family managed, but losing the dining hall's help took a toll on them. Adults had trouble surviving on such small shares, so Elina used some of her funds to buy a bit more food. Although the class was on hold, she still received partial pay to prepare for next year's lessons.

Many people who could not afford any food drifted into long sleeps, never waking. I was accustomed to hardship, but as snow began to fall, I found myself struggling to endure. My mind teetered between wakefulness and unconsciousness, and entire days slipped past in a numb haze.

Often, the biting cold dragged me dangerously close to another long sleep. Sometimes I tried to will myself into slumber faster, hoping to block out the chill, but it rarely worked. Other times, exhaustion and worry kept me wide awake.

On such nights, I roamed the district's darker streets. One evening, I caught my coat on a jagged piece of metal while rounding an alley corner, ripping it badly. That same night happened to be one of the coldest of the winter, and I shivered so violently that my thoughts came in stutters.

Fearing that if I stopped moving, I would slip into a long sleep, leaving Meris, Elina, and Jharim to worry—I paced aimlessly. I also dreaded the possibility of missing weeks of the advanced class, which might make the Captain of the Chainrunners regret ever suggesting me. Wasting the district's resources was the last thing I wanted.

Another nightmare nagged at me, the rumor that people sometimes tried to wake the long sleepers by burning them. The idea horrified me. I felt compelled to stay awake, no matter the cost.

The cold can unhinge one's mind, so I tried to stay rational by writing my thoughts in the book Elina had given me. Putting my fears onto paper seemed to help a little, keeping them from spiraling out of control.

Still, it did not change the fact that I blacked out that very night in the falling snow.

By the time I came to, my coat—or its remnants—offered no warmth. At some point, it must have slipped off my shoulders altogether, and I did not even notice. Darkness embraced me again before I could do anything to fix it.

Strangely, when I regained my senses for good, I found I had not entered a long sleep after all and I no longer felt cold.

I glanced around, disoriented, realizing I was surrounded by thick fog. In my wandering, I must have walked right out of the ward's protection. On top of that, I had slept outside on the doorstep of an abandoned-looking house. From here, I could see the district in the distance, its Obelisk faintly illuminated and visible through the hazy swirl. The fog around me seemed thinner than usual, as though I could see right through it in certain spots.

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It appeared almost translucent. I knew it was still there, yet I could make out vague shapes beyond it. Then I lifted my gaze toward the sky.

Even with the fog's pallor, I discerned a massive orb of flame, most likely the sun. It resembled the one I saw in my dreams, and I felt a gentle warmth touching my skin.

For a moment, I wondered if I was still dreaming. Then the realization of my surroundings sank in, too stark and too real to be imagination. Strangely, the fog itself felt warm, and nobody had ever reported that. But then, they were typically too busy running from beasts to notice any comforting aspect of the fog. I glanced around, half expecting monsters.

I saw none. The tension that had built inside me eased. I had slept outside the ward, in the thick of the fog, yet nothing had harmed me.

"Am I insane?" I whispered to myself.

Pondering how to make sense of it, I fumbled for my book and recorded everything in the manner Elina taught me, striving for methodical detail:

Test 3

Experiment 3: Entered the fog completely and, well, spent the night sleeping there, just outside the ward but near the district.

Result: No harm occurred, no beasts in sight.

Conclusion: Test subject Omen might be insane.

That about summed it up. While I considered reasons why different people might have different reactions to the fog, I realized I was still standing in it. Panicking, I hurried back inside the ward. The abandoned house was not far from the boundary, so it took me only a few minutes to reach District 98's edge again.

Almost at once, the chill of winter reclaimed me. I saw that my coat was truly gone. For a fleeting second, I considered going back into the fog, but realized it's filled with monsters that could tear me apart. Most creatures in the fog seemed mindless and feral based on what the Chainrunners said, so they would not hesitate.

Questions bombarded me as I tried to reconcile the unthinkable. How could this have happened? It contradicted everything known about the fog, yet I had undeniably spent the night there.

Should I confess it to Elina and Jharim? They might know what to do. But what on earth would I tell them?

"Hey, everyone, I decided to stroll into the fog and sleep there because it was warm and cozy. I know half the district sees me as a harbinger of doom, but let us ignore that."

I scoffed at my own nonsense, realizing it sounded like I was losing my mind. Besides, Elina and Jharim would be obligated to report it, and failing to do so could endanger them as well.

At the same time, I felt compelled to share it with someone—someone needed to know that certain people might be unaffected by the fog. Then again, I had no conclusive proof. People had studied the fog for millennia, and nobody had discovered a definitive solution. If even the greatest ancients of Araksiun failed, why would my single experience change anything?

Plus, my single night outside the ward without incident might mean nothing. Maybe the beasts overlooked me or had no interest. Nothing was guaranteed.

That realization made my heart pound. The next logical step in my experiments would be to find a monster in the fog and see if it attacked me. The thought alone sent cold sweat down my spine. I remembered Elina's words about curiosity being humanity's best weapon, but if this was how the ancient people of Araksiun lived day by day, taking such risks to gain knowledge, no wonder they had vanished.

Then again, they have not entirely vanished, have they? We are their descendants, though it felt impossible to live up to their achievements when our society had crumbled so far.

Another notion seized me, refusing to let go: what if I managed to secure an artifact that helped produce food? The lower districts destroyed on the day I arrived reportedly possessed such tools. If I went there and recovered one, nobody in District 98 could force me out. Even if the Chainrunners had visited those districts on that veteran run, they had been too hurried and pressed by danger to scour the ruins for artifacts. Something might still be waiting.

And nobody could claim it from me, thanks to one of the oldest laws from the early days of the Chainrunners. That law was designed to balance the extreme risks of traveling in the fog, especially on missions dedicated to salvaging artifacts. It was called the Law of the Finders.

It declared that anyone who discovered an artifact had absolute right to it for life. The artifact's use was the finder's choice, and if the finder died, even in the fog, ownership would pass to their nearest relative. Artifacts like the Dawnbreak Bow had once been lost to the fog, yet the Blackthorn family reclaimed them, returning them to the rightful heirs.

By returning with an artifact that boosted food production, I would be the finder. Since everyone else in those districts had died, the District would have to decide whether to punish me and lose that precious artifact, or simply accept me regardless of what they think of me.

Was that even feasible? I had only spent a few minutes in the fog, and here I was, fantasizing about trekking several kilometers through monster territory.

But then again, I had spent hours out there, close to the ward or not. Perhaps it was possible. Maybe I could help District 98, maybe even neighboring districts and finally bring an end to the hunger that haunted us.

I guessed the great curiosity of the ancients made sense after all, despite the terrible risks.