Traverse The Fog

The following day passed as quickly as it came. A tired Cyrus flipped on the lights in his room, and the sudden illumination receded the darkness, limiting it to the night outside the window. With quick steps, he strode across the room, betraying the giddiness surging through his nerves. Gingerly, he placed his camera among the opened books that littered the black desk.

His gaze then scanned the night beyond the window. It was silent. Peaceful. And it stood in stark contrast to his fluctuating thoughts.

What now?

Drumming his fingers on the desk, Cyrus fell into thought. The green sigil colliding with his forehead was undoubtedly a life rune, injecting a host of mystical locations bereft of logical belief and stoking his yearning. And like the fool, he willingly strode within that cave. He nearly lost his life because of it. Well, he did lose his life.

And yet, despite everything that's happened. Slowly, a smile bloomed across Cyrus' face. I still want to explore this world.

But there was a problem. Without proper means to defend himself and a lack of understanding of this world, stepping outside of Avalorn would most definitely lead to a second death.

Weakly sighing, Cyrus' gaze swept over the gorgeous twinkling lights that decorated Avalorn. There lay a path toward salvation, a means to pursue his dreams.

Magic. It fascinated him, as it would with everyone else. Dílis' flouramancer abilities, the mother's aqua affinity, and even the airborne thief; any of these abilities would no doubt help him in the pursuit of purpose.

Not to mention— Cyrus sat down and scanned over the books. —Longevity.

He soon frowned at the books before him. None of these explained the fundamentals of magic. They spoke of histories, cultures, races, technologies, written language, and more. However, they weren't what he craved the most.

Shifting his gaze from the desk to the door, Cyrus focused beyond it as if he could envision an older man standing in the hallway, silently watching over him.

Dílis Cosan. The man—no, the magical city lord was his prison guard. Cyrus was sure that, after everything he had learned, Lord Dílis wished to uncover his homeworld, which, in turn, forced him to stay in Avalorn indefinitely. Yet he also held the key to his future. After all, it would take years for Cyrus to train and awaken his abilities, if he had any, and require plenty of resources.

I could strike it on my own. Cyrus rubbed his chin. But how long would that take? The path was just as foggy as the world before him. Cyrus had to tread carefully or end up lost and devoured by the mist again. Then there's only one path left.

What better way to learn magic than convincing the current Dúndraíocht to allow him to become an official wayfarer? And it seemed like a good idea. Not only would it align with his goals of learning magic, but it would also allow him to explore the world. To Cyrus, so long as his goals were met, everything else would be fine.

Quickly, he stood up and began pacing around the room. But would he say no? Cyrus paused. I'll have to think of a good reason.

So, he spent hours pacing and thinking, reviewing everything he had learned. The Wayfarers were in dire straits and needed new blood, while the current lord was once one himself. Meanwhile, Cyrus was a man who came from a world free of fog and wraiths. Could he use that as an advantage?

The thought brought him to a stop.

It could work. He rubbed his chin. And what do I have to lose?

'What' indeed. But such things were for tomorrow, on the day of their conversation.

Weary, Cyrus yawned and collapsed onto his bed. His gaze drifted towards the dark ceiling as thoughts began to drift. Avalorn is just one city, and I want to see them all.

Each city-state was supposedly isolated from the other by large swathes of land to avoid conflicts of interest. Sovereign nations developed with little outside influence. Why limit his life to only one? Why not explore every nook and cranny of them all? Why not move beyond and onward to the unknown?

Blood boiling, Cyrus shifted in bed. He allowed his imagination to run wild and paint a future that awaited him, one of an older version of himself. Tall and fetterless, he could explore long-lost cities filled with the untold stories of the past. Wouldn't that be marvelous? Then, it shifted to one as a Wayfarer, melding with the populous of some city-state while he immersed himself in their daily lives.

It was a nice dream.

However, within the depths of his mind, a frothing mist bubbled to the surface. And along with it, The Weeper. Grimacing, Cyrus crushed the thought and shuffled to his side, staring through the window at that gorgeous city. Its bright lights reminded him that there was civilization, surviving and even thriving in this shrouded world. Countless people lived happy lives as they walked on that mossy cobblestone without fear.

Maybe everything wasn't so dire and grim, Cyrus thought, then a smirk plastered. Maybe not. And as for Cyrus helping them? He had only one thought: The world existed despite me, not for me.

"...So what if the world is ruined? What does it have to do with me?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Therein lies the truth: Cyrus was no hero, nor did he wish to be. He would fulfill his Wayfarer duties if he became one. And that was it.

Along these thoughts and images came a thought unbidden. Frothing underneath his surface lay the visions of a green and orange rune—one that entered his mind and another that escaped his chest. With it came images of the cadaver and the fog. Was it that corpse who sent that green rune? Did he want the orange rune inside his body? Why was there a rune inside him in the first place? The fog desired it; why?

Tightly pressing his head on the pillow, Cyrus tightly shut his eyes. I don't have it anymore. He gritted his teeth. So... they're done with me, right?

After all, what was he? Just an ordinary man. There was no need to chase an ordinary fool who aspired for meaning. With the rune gone, Cyrus could slink around in the shadows, free from scrutiny. Right?

Cyrus shook his head and sat up. He really has to stop thinking so much. But everything will change tomorrow. His fingers clutched at the bed's fabrics. Just go step by step.

Once upon a time, he had assumed that the worst-case scenario would be his imprisonment in a pitch-black cell. Now? Now, things appeared brighter to him.

Quickly, Cyrus got off the bed, moved toward the windowsill, and gazed up at the shrouded skies. He was so certain of it: Stars were waiting above the endless haze, twinkling like diamonds. Planets to explore, discoveries to make, and new stories to tell awaited him.

And all Cyrus had to do was stretch out his arms and reach for them.

***

Morning soon came. A sleepless Cyrus slyly watched both Dílis enjoy the delicious breakfast of baked goods and fruits. They occasionally spoke to the staff as they went about their morning routine, pretending that today was another day with nothing of importance.

Meanwhile, Cyrus simply played with his food as a hole formed in the pit of his stomach. It made everything unappetizing, but he swallowed it nonetheless to avoid drawing attention.

Despite his feigned nonchalance, there was no help but subtly glancing at the man of the hour, Lord Dílis. It was hard to believe that this man, who was shoving fruit pastries in his mouth, was some freakishly powerful mage who could destroy Avalorn. And by his daughter's account, Lord Dílis was a man in his sixties despite looking in his early forties.

The thought made Cyrus inwardly sigh. He had no clue how this exchange would turn out. After all, Lord Dílis was once a Wayfarer who trekked unknown lands and fought beasts. Those life experiences and, without a doubt, a lifetime of knowledge molded him into a powerful leader with beliefs and ideas as deep as the sea.

Just play it smart. Cyrus bit into some sort of fruity pancake concoction. Lay out your 'cards.' A sudden cough silenced all thoughts and sounds. Here we go.

Cyrus turned his "calm" gaze onto Lord Dílis.

The man in question wiped his mouth. "Come now, Cyrus. He smiled that subtle, friendly smile. "Let's head to my office and discuss our situation."

"Yes, Lord Dílis." It took all Cyrus' strength to stop his voice from quivering.

As Cyrus stood up, Lord Dílis smiled at his daughter. "Join us, Lilie."

"Yes, Father."

They soon left the dining hall. Forward, they went into the depths of the manor until Lord Dílis led them through a set of double doors. Yet, Cyrus hadn't made it far. He was too busy being dumbstruck by the sights before him.

They entered a room filled to the brim with the adventures of an explorer.

His gaze flittered first on the large bonsai tree at the corner, fitting snugly into the wall with red, shimmering leaves that radiated soft hues of vitality.

Cyrus passed over the displays of different weapons of various qualities, nearly losing himself in some of the rather intricate ensigns on their blades. Behind them stood rows upon rows of books and maps, each holding secret knowledge and locations that he could only dream of.

Soon, he paused. A rare sketch would catch his attention, depicting some four-legged fox beast. Teal-furred and black-spotted, it had long frills on its hind legs, similar to a dragon carp or butterfly. And the sight of it compelled a sigh to escape Cyrus' lips.

This room held a piece of his dreams.

Meanwhile, Lord Dílis moved without impatience and approached one of the potted plants, plucked a handful of violet berries, and then made his way to a small animal display.

"Wake up, little ones, it's breakfast time," he gently said, tossing the berries near several gelatinous green slimes that hid within the display foliage.

To Cyrus' surprise, they began to move! Like slugs, they slowly slid toward the fruit, absorbing it through their membranes. One could see bits and pieces floating around in its body, slowly dissolving into nutrients. It was incredible, to say the least, and Cyrus nearly brandished his camera several times but held back, deciding to keep everything in his personal memory.

This room, in its splendor, brought a small, traitorous thought: Perhaps he, too, will have an office like this one day.

Some day.

Clearing his thoughts, Cyrus watched Lord Dílis sit behind a magnificent blackwood desk lying in the center of the office.

"Take a seat." He gestured to the seat opposite to him. "We've got a lot to discuss."

Lilie silently maneuvered to stand beside him, placing her hands behind her back and encouraging Cyrus with her warm, verdant eyes. And so he did.

Silence.

Lord Dílis clasped his hands, lost in contemplation. Not before long, he slowly moved a hand onto one of the dressers, soon pulling out a gray folder and placing it on the table. What was it for?

Not that it mattered. As their conversation finally began.

"I've read Orionis' report," Lord Dílis, playing with the edges of the gray folder. "But please, tell me in your own words: What happened?"

"Yes... It was—" A pause. "—Crazy, to say the least. It happened to be on the corpse just outside the cave I woke up in." —Cyrus' voice lowered into a whisper— "Was it a Wayfarer?"

There was no need to bring up robbing a corpse.

Meanwhile, Lord Dílis nodded, his calm gaze scanning over Cyrus. "You've also mentioned that you took residence for three days before taking your leave?"

"It's what we're taught to do when waiting for rescue. And I still believed there was a chance I was home."

Lord Dílis nodded again. Yet this time, he scrutinized Cyrus as if searching for any hint of deception.

"And then you came across this hamlet, correct? This village—it has a monster that almost took your life?"

"Yes," Cyrus answered, keeping his tone calm though annoyance and confusion simmered beneath the surface. "Is there an issue?"

"There is," Lord Dílis replied, his expression steady. "I've personally explored the plateau in search of these places, and... there was nothing. No cave, no hamlet, no body, no monster; nothing to prove your claims."