Traverse The Fog

"Why doesn't my flower just quit her job?" O'Kane grumbled behind the counter, stacking books. "It's not like she can't. Life would be so much easier."

For two decades, he had braved the fog with his wife. Time and time again, O'Kane lost friends and family to the mists. One day, after a harrowing event that cost him his patrol, he just couldn't handle it anymore. So he quit. Afterward, the days became brighter, so to speak, and the nightmares stopped once O'Kane committed to the change. However, there was another issue.

Deirdre.

'Flower, quit the job. Come work with me at the library,' he pleaded. And what was her response?

'The city needs us,' she said without an ounce of hesitation.

O'Kane sighed, lost in thought. Why was she so difficult?

"I need to convince her before it's too—" He paused. Approaching the counter were two library patrons. One was the rather unkempt newcomer, and the other... "—Cait?" O'Kane frowned. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

For the past year, he has watched this young lass confine herself to the quiet corner, practicing her silent chants in an attempt to hear another response from God. And frankly, O'Kane thought she was crazy. Had Cait shown restraint in her search for miracles, then it wouldn't have been a problem. But now? She's actually talking to someone? With a stranger, no less? Something was up. So, he leaned on the counter, watching them both, especially Lesley. A sign for help or... However, O'Kane blinked. Was she blushing? That rose hue. And what was with that blubbering of a response?

Oh? His gaze lit up, flickering between the two of them. I see!

Well, now there was no reason to ruin their moment. So, O'Kane controlled his expression so as not to embarrass the girl further.

"We're here to check out some books," Lesley said, a stifled quiver stuck in her throat.

"Of course. Leave it to me."

However, in a brief window where Lesley turned her back to them, O'Kane showcased his winning smile, accompanied by a knowing wink towards Cyrus, who froze at the sight. Once the two left the building, O'Kane kept his gaze on the exit.

In my time, we took things slow, he mused, shaking his head with a grin. Ah, the impatience of the youth.

The older man returned to his stacking, a light hum escaping his throat. Outside at the foot of the library, Cyrus stared toward the gray skies. There was a mixed bag of feelings welling in the pit of his stomach.

I'm merely seeking information, he reminded himself, gaze lowering onto Lesley, who descended the steps. Ultimately, the old man's thoughts didn't matter. But Cyrus wanted no trouble from this.

"So, where's the first stop?"

Lesley shot him a sidelong glance before looking around warily as if looking for listeners.

"We're heading to the Church of Úrán," she said, voice soft yet brimming with anticipation. "I wish to speak with the vicar."

Was this Úrán the same being who called for him?

Cyrus cleared his throat. "Úrán? Which god is that?"

She halted and turned around, looking at Cyrus as if he were a bizarre creature. "You really don't know? I know not everyone worships, but I thought everyone knew of Úrán."

Cyrus coughed again, holding the book and camera close to his hip. It's hard to be a good liar when you have no clue what's going on. "Let's just say my parents discouraged me from anything religious." He scratched his head, intentionally appearing embarrassed. "They've told me that any time spent at a church is better spent at studying." There and then, he mindfully thanked his absentee parents for taking the blame. At least now, they've done something for him.

"Just treat me as someone utterly ignorant."

"Your parents sound controlling," Lesley said, nodding with a hint of pity in her gaze. "I know the feeling." She gestured for him to follow into Avalorn's crowded streets. Forward they went. "Lord Úrán—" She thumped her sternum three times, a pious expression radiating from her face. "—Is the one who holds the lands to carry our burdens and strengthen our bones for the trials ahead."

Úrán? Cyrus fell into thought. Sounds like an earth god. Not a fire god or the one who called for him. Come to think of it, was it a god who called to him? "I see. And we're heading to the hamle—" Cyrus paused his steps, his pupils widening. What did he say?

"Ham—hamlet? There aren't any hamlets in Avalorn." Lesley said, glancing at him with curiosity. "No, no. We're going to meet with Vicar Ithral. If I'm lucky, then today might be the day I'm worthy of sponsorship." Yet when she heard no response, she turned around to meet a silent Cyrus. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Cyrus broke out of his daze, immediately masking his anxiety by scratching the back of his head and faking an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, I was thinking about some stuff. Don't worry, it's nothing."

It took a moment to convince Lesley before they could continue their travels. All the while, Cyrus felt suffocated. What was that? Why was he still thinking about the hamlet? Only by forcing down his worries was he able to continue the path toward this house of worship.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

And what a sight it was. A towering gothic cathedral rose a few blocks away with two parallel spiraling towers that seemed to reach for the gray haze above. Its design embraced earthen tones and hues, from the stained-glass windows and flying buttresses to the stone paths worn smooth by countless footsteps within its vicinity. Gargoyles depicted robed men and armored knights protecting every corner as if ready to move to strike at a moment's notice.

"There it is," Lesley said solemnly, tapping her sternum. "Let's go inside."

However, as the two treaded closer, the canary abruptly took flight, drawing attention to them and occasional passersby.

"It's so rare to see one with pure white feathers," Lesley said, a gleam of excitement flashing across her blue eyes. "What's its name?"

Cyrus blinked. Name? Was he supposed to name it? Should he? Well, why not?

"For now, let's call him 'Bird,'" Cyrus stated, using the word from his home world. "But I'm sure I'll think of something by the end of the week."

"'Buhd?'" The word puzzled Lesley, but she smiled nonetheless. "Does it hold any special meaning?"

"Oh, it means 'free spirit,'" Cyrus coughed out. "It's from a dead language."

So, the two, with 'Bird,' continued their journey.

"I've heard that the previous Dúndraíocht banned any practice of religion during his rule over Avalorn." Lesley's smiling gaze connected with Cyrus'. "And only when Lord Dílis took his place did he accept three churches in Avalorn. Kind of silly, right? The master forbids worship while his student tolerates it."

Three? I should ask more about them later. Cyrus rubbed his bearded chin. "He did? Why?

Lesley quickened her pace, shifting to walk backward in front of him.

"I don't know." There was a pause. "But if I hazard a guess, his Stewardship came from outside Avalorn—" She pointed at the looming, towering building. "—so, I bet he probably invited them for the security and resources they offer."

Ah, yes. Avalorn's state before Lord Dílis' arrival. Just how bad was Eolas' hands-off approach and the so-called 'nobles' unchecked power? Cyrus could only imagine the extent of corruption and stagnation that must have prevailed in this isolated city.

"Oh, wait." Lesley abruptly paused. "I almost forgot. Wait here." She then broke from him and entered a passing alleyway alone. Moments later, she returned with a hood that hid her face.

"Let's go," she whispered quietly, picking up her pace.

Rather suspicious... And Cyrus felt the urge to ask for a reason for her strange behavior. But was there a reason to? But one glance at the large population entering and exiting those faraway, grand doors brought comfort. It's not like this was some crazy cultist's organization.

So, he held back his tongue. If Lesley preferred not to be noticed by others, that was her business. Still, this was a house dedicated to a living, breathing god. Just what kind of thoughts would float in its head?

So, with one filled with reluctance, the two arrived before the looming cathedral in no time. There, Cyrus felt awe as he gazed upon the steel columns sculpted in the likeness of various men and women that held up the church's walls. Some adorned armor reminiscent of knights from a distant era, while others resembled mighty scholars. All exuded a sense of incredible strength.

And just beyond the well-cared steps and above the arched metal doors was a rose window depicting a robed figure with an indistinguishable face.

"That's Úrán," Lesley said, thumping her chest three times.

Meanwhile, Cyrus gazed upon the image of this god... and felt a sort of peace and solidity? How strange. He then looked around and took noticed of those nearby, who also slowed their pace as if not wishing to disturb the peace.

Was this some sort of divine power? Cyrus wondered. His mana sense revealed nothing. Only that the mana around this area felt weightier, solid—Wait. There was something else. He could barely sense energies. And any attempts to make contact were met with failure.

Is this what Wayfarer O'Kane meant by 'elementally dense area?' Cyrus attempted another touch, only to fail again. Invisible Earth runes abound, yet unreachable.

"Come on." Lesley abruptly took hold of his hand with both of hers, occasionally squeezing it. "Let's go inside."

Thus, with Bird on his head, a cringe-restraining and hesitant Cyrus entered this stone fortress. Inside, the cathedral was dimly lit by soft candles and light passing through the stained windows, barely revealing the dark and gray vaulted ceilings. The two stepped on marble floors, passing through rows upon rows of dark brown pew benches that seated only a handful of believers. This place was incredible, so much so that Cyrus left silently dumbstruck.

"There he is," Lesley elbowed his rib. "Vicar Ithral."

At the end lay the apse, where the back of a man simply dressed in a brown robe was visible atop a few short stone steps. He stood statue-still, gazing silently at the colossal metal globe looming before him. And if Lesley hadn't pointed him out, he would have assumed that the vicar was like other stony wardens guarding the globe.

As if sensing the duo draw near, the man seemed like a statue coming to life. He then turned to them, revealing a peaceful, soft-featured middle-aged man with long, aging blonde hair cascading down his head.

"Vicar Ithral!" Lesley's voice rang sweetly as she stepped and bowed before him. "I've hoped to speak to you."

The vicar seemed in silent prayer, for only until Lesley's address had he finally opened his kind, light-brown eyes.

"Caitríona." The vicar's countenance fractured into a warm smile, fist thumping his sternum three times. "Are you here for another attempt?" And without waiting for a response, he scrutinized her for a few moments. However, a sigh escaped the man. And he shook his head with a subtle air of disappointment. "You're not ready, Caitríona" —his voice lowered into something subdued— "It takes years to build enough faith and devotion to become a member of the church. Less rush and more conviction."

That must have been shocking, for Lesley instantly halted mid-stride as if struck by lightning. But a droll conversation could not keep Cyrus from pouring more attention onto the globe.

"B-but. But," Lesley stammered, tentatively stepping forward. "I've been coming to every sermon and chanting the prayers."

The vicar silently shook his head. "Prayer and chanting alone are not enough." He then thumped his chest as if trying to guide her. "For you need to truly open your heart to his grace. Until then, becoming a neophyte will be nothing but floating air. Intangible and invisible. But it's alright. I have faith in you."

They continued their conversation while Cyrus' gaze swept over the globe. The lone continent mirrored the map Lord Dílis had revealed to him a week ago. To any other observer, it might seem unremarkable, but for him, it brought a sense of joy. After all, this was proof that the Earth was round. And if the world were round, the stellar expanse lay beyond the haze. Maybe he'll go beyond this planet one day, too. But all these thoughts evaporated once he felt the vicar's eyes on him.

"And who is this?"