Traverse The Fog

Silence. Cyrus remained frozen as various thoughts flashed across his mind. Was Lord Dílis lying? Why? Yet, when he searched for answers on the man's countenance for falsehoods or tells, he found none. Gaze momentarily flickering toward his daughter, he, too, found her surprised by the information.

"Maybe there was a mistake," Cyrus began, swallowing his disturbance while offering a weak, friendly smile. "I could lead yo—"

"—Thank you for your offer, Cyrus." Lord Dílis cut him off, tone matter-of-factly. "But what took you a day to traverse, I could do in ten minutes."

A breath of silence hung between them. Only then did Cyrus have to remind himself that this man was a mage and far beyond his comprehension.

"I carry many means of search and uncovering, Cyrus. After all, I was a Wayfarer, once upon a time," Lord Dílis continued softly. "And unless you made a mistake or, worse, purposely lied, I can wholeheartedly promise you that there was no hamlet."

Confusion plagued Cyrus. Everything, even his current plans, relied on his past experiences as a foundation. If they didn't believe him, what then? Would they simply let him go, unfettered and free to do as he pleases?

Unaware of his thoughts, Lord Dílis opened the folder and placed a map between the two. "This is a map of the continent." Lord Dílis placed a pale finger on the southernmost city-state on the western coastline labeled as Avalorn. "Take a look at the map and see if you recognize anything."

Puzzled, Cyrus followed his instructions. Yet, he soon found himself enamored by the map as he drank in the new information.

An unknown world is waiting to be explored...

It was massive. Due to its geographical characteristics, Cyrus nearly compared it to the shape of an animal. The continent is broad in the west, with its landmass bulging outward at its southern point, resembling a neck. It then tapers into a rounded point in the northeast, forming a small-horned head and muzzle.

His gaze landed on the hundreds of city-states lining the Midwest to the northwest coast, barely covering a third of the western section. Then, he shifted his gaze toward the center and frowned at the sight.

There were two black masses. One covered the majority of the northern peninsula, or 'horn,' while the other, much larger, dominated the center of the continent's narrowing 'muzzle.' The two nearly divided the west and east, leaving only a few land gaps that connected the masses and separated the central mass from the southern ocean. Further beyond tapered into the rounded 'nose,' but there was nothing worthy of note.

What are the two black masses? Cyrus hummed in thought. Save for a few, none of the city-states are situated nearby.

Lilie coughed. "Uh, Cyrus?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah." Right. He was in the middle of something important.

Lord Dílis chuckled. Then, he tapped on Avalorn and moved North to its only neighboring city-state. "This is Stàilinn, and if we go further—" He began patiently listing the names of city-states one by one, keeping an eye on Cyrus' expression for a reaction.

"Lord Dílis, "I don't recognize any of these places."

There was no point in lying off at this point. Meanwhile, Lord Dílis remained unperturbed. He reclined in his chair while looking up toward the ceiling, allowing another momentary silence to befall the three.

"Cyrus," He solemnly began. "Have you experienced whispers in the fog or any other strange phenomena outside these walls?"

No shit did I experience...

"Yeah." He kept his biting remarks hidden. "Whispers, tendrils, monsters..."

What was the point of this question? Cyrus had already explained this before.

Lord Dílis nodded before sighing. "As you no doubt heard, there is a corruption within the fog—a blight." He locked eyes with Cyrus, his expression graver by the second. "And it does horrible things to a person. Some transform into twisted creatures known as wraiths, deformed versions of their once-human selves. But that's not the main concern here."

Cyrus' gaze widened in shock. "So, you're saying..."

Lord Dílis nodded. "Precisely, Cyrus. Those who linger too long within the fog's influence may fall into psychosis." He sighed weakly. "A victim could lose their sense of self, create false memories, and succumb to delusions."

An ensuing silence lingered for what felt like an eternity as Cyrus absorbed the information. He gazed at Lord Dílis' scrutinizing visage before looking upon his daughter, who averted her eyes, a betrayal of pity across her face. And what else but a near-overwhelming miasma of fear and anger welling deep in the pit of Cyrus' heart?

I chose this... He clutched at the desk's edge. To begin again.

He breathed deeply and exhaled in frustration, fighting against the urge to shout at the top of his lungs. There was no way his previous life was some conjured-up fantasy. Wouldn't it render all of his experiences and choices meaningless? A delusion?

Stay calm, Cyrus. Dílis. Does. Not. Know. You.

He would not, could not, entertain the thought. Blood boiling, Cyrus remained quiet, collecting himself before meeting directly with Lord Dílis' gaze. His words were curt and precise, spoken as much to affirm his origins to Lord Dílis and, more infinitely important, to himself.

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"My name is Cyrus Wade. I'm twenty years old. I grew up as an adopted orphan, constantly moving until I reached adulthood. Where I'm from, the skies were always blue, and the sun was bright. I have photos of my old life, friends, family, and everything else stored on my camera and phone. Both, I assume, are technological marvels compared to your world, which seems to run mostly on magic and mana."

Meanwhile, Lilie posed to move, reaching out with her hand to console him. But just as quickly, she withdrew her hand.

"I am sorry, Cyrus, truly," Lord Dílis said, tone placating. "As the lord of this city, I must ensure its protection. Again, I'm sorry. I only mentioned this to you as the quickest means to discover if you were corrupted, as those who realize their affliction tend to react uniquely."

...You wanted to see if I would break down?!

However, before Cyrus could press forward into detail, Lord Dílis stood from his chair, his tone formal, more a statement than a request. "There are some mages who could detect this corruption through special means, and I just so happen to be one of them."

Without hesitation, Cyrus agreed, voice simmering. "Sure, scan me, search for whatever these 'irregularities' are if it will prove my sanity."

Of course, he had no clue if this would prove him innocent of anything at all. For all he knew, these people might have two hearts. Yet there was no alternative; refusing meant he was harboring secrets, and he required their trust.

Lord Dílis stepped before Cyrus and gently patted him on the shoulder. "Relax, Cyrus," he said, his voice as soft as flowing water. "You may feel something intense, but rest assured, I won't harm you."

With his speech came a sudden wave of pressure crashing onto his chest, similar to those invasions on that day. Yet, unlike those incidents, this energy surged through him with incredible vitality.

Cyrus' breath caught in his throat at the sight of the man before him. It was as if a grand, towering tree silhouette superimposed on the mage's person, ever-growing its enormous branches. Meanwhile, the stifling energy rippled through his body, enveloping every organ until finally reaching his heart. There. The sudden brush awoke something new yet familiar. Deep welling within his heart lay something elusive and out of reach—but something of him.

Thirty minutes. Lord Dílis meticulously scanned over him not just once but ten times over. His furrowed brows deepened with each subsequent scan, which did not reassure Cyrus by any means of the word.

But Lord Dílis then suddenly smiled. "Congratulations, Cyrus." He released his grip, and with it, the energies disappeared. "You're an ordinary, healthy young man."

And just that confirmation was enough. Cyrus, no longer burdened by the heavy weight of both energies and expectation, slumped in his chair.

"I'm glad that you're okay," Lilie said, releasing her held breath and offering a small pat on his shoulder.

"Indeed. There's not a single trace of blight on you," Lord Dílis confirmed, gaze landing on his daughter's kindness. "Which isn't surprising if you were born and raised in one of the city-states." He moved to pluck a few berries from a nearby potted plant and returned to the display to feed his slimes. "But your story—" A dreadful pause. "—is credible enough for further investigation."

Chuckling weakly, Cyrus wiped away the invisible sweat on his brow. "Now there's a contamination I must worry about?"

"It's the reason we build walls and plant those light pylons, Cyrus," Lilie grimly noted, leaning on the edge of the desk. "Without them, we wouldn't be here today."

"That's where you come in," Lord Dílis added, sidelong glancing at Cyrus. "On the off-chance that I'm wrong, we may be on the brink of something unimaginable."

Cyrus quickly interjected. "So if we find the cave—"

"—Then I could search for residual traces and possibly uncover clues." Lord Dílis returned to his desk and sat back down, hands clasping. "Until then, you will reside and remain in Avalorn."

No. The hairs on the back of Cyrus' neck stood on end. Would he ever be able to walk outside those walls ever again? If so, when? Once his hair grew gray? Such a life was torture to Cyrus. Therefore, it was no surprise when he lowered his head in a bow and clasped his hands.

"Wait! Lord Dílis," He abruptly spoke, lacing his voice with compassion. "I've been speaking to Lilie these past few days and hearing her stories of your world. And I want to help! Please, allow me to become a Wayfarer!"

Lilie gasped, utterly surprised. But the idea that another was willing to join the organization brought a blooming smile to her lips.

However, Lord Dílis remained calm. "If my daughter has told you of The Wayfarers," he said, locking gazes with the young man. "Then you know they're in dire straits. It's a life-threatening job, yet you still wish to pursue it. Why?"

Alright, this is it. Taking a deep breath, Cyrus stepped into the role of a bleeding heart. "Avalorn is struggling, and with the few Wayfarers you have, even one more could make all the difference." He waited momentarily, pretending to cast away his gaze as if ashamed. "And it's embarrassing... But the truth of the matter is my world's leaders would hardly care about your plights. They might even—" A 'struggled' pause. "—cause more to rob your magic and resources." He then returned his gaze to Lord Dílis, going for the finish. "Which is why I want to help! If I can photograph and document in my own words—my dialect, then maybe I can convince my people."

If only such things were possible. But Cyrus knew the truth. Such decisions would be made in shadowy backroom deals, far from the sight of the many. But that wasn't the point of his goals. It was a weak plea that banked on Lord Dílis' "The Steward" moniker not just for show. And maybe, just maybe, the image of a young man willing to risk his life would move the heart of The Dúndraíocht. Or at least, humor him.

A breath of silence hung between the three. Meanwhile, Lilie's gaze gleamed with genuine admiration. How long has it been since a new member joined? Too long. If she had the ability, Cyrus would have joined on the spot. Yet, she held her tongue and waited.

Despite both pleading gazes on him, Lord Dílis remained hushed and unreadable for moments on end. The room grew silent, and Lilie and Cyrus refused to breathe as they waited.

"You've surprised me, Cyrus," Lord Dílis finally spoke. "Such a request would be denied without a second thought within the other city-states."

Cyrus nodded. "I understand. Regardless of your answer, I will respect your decision nonetheless."

"Really." Lord Dílis leaned in, the chair creaking underneath his weight. "Are you truly prepared to die for this cause?" —his words shifted slowly— "To serve my people?"

"Yes!" Cyrus said without a moment's hesitation. Of course, I'm willing to die for my dreams!

And when the day came when he was to leave... Well, that was a problem for another time. They didn't need to know that now.

Paying attention to his 'sincerity,' Lord Dílis sighed, shoulders slumping. "This requires a discussion between Lilie and me if you don't mind. Please excuse us while you head to the study."