Traverse The Fog

In the beginning, there was nothing but darkness. Cyrus then sat up from the earth and gasped in choked sobs. Dazed and lost, Cyrus looked around, coughing in the meantime. Then, the memories came flooding back—a monster, the fog, and an orange sigil?

Finally aware of his situation, Cyrus sprang his hands onto his neck and abdomen, searching for wounds. To his surprise, there were none.

"Was it all a dream?" he muttered, gazing around to find even his spilled blood missing.

It had felt like a bad dream. Except the proof in the shape of the hole in Cyrus' shirt.

"I'm... not dead?" He scrambled to his feet and away from the cliff. "I'm not dead?!"

Was he no longer in danger? Cyrus looked around and found nothing but the forest trees and his fallen pack. The fog was still present, but it remained aimless and floaty.

The silence was a comfort to Cyrus, and he wholeheartedly welcomed it.

But then he frowned. Just what were those things?

Slowly, he wore his pack as he fell into silent thought. Conjectures about the green flicker, the orange sigil, The Weeper, and the fog bounced in his head, yet he was left at a loss.

What now? Find safety. But where should he go? Back to the forest—Hell no.

Scratching his head, Cyrus turned his head over the cliff's edge. Except, it wasn't a cliff anymore, but a plateau—one that stood above an ocean of trees. Had the very earth changed while he was unconscious?

"More questions." He kicked a rock over the edge. Slowly, his gaze swept across the horizon. But wait, what's that? There was something almost obfuscated by the gray shroud.

Heart pounding, Cyrus sifted through his pack and brandished his binoculars. And it was just as he thought. Far in the distance was an enormous stone wall that dwarfed the forest around it. But there was more. Crowning the wall's angular bastions were spiral-like pylons of pure metal. And from what he could see, they emitted a bright yellow radiance reminiscent of lighthouses shining the way for lost ships trapped in storms.

But that was all he could gather. Still, this was good news. Walls meant a civilization powerful enough to defend against these treacherous woods, while those lights signaled advanced technology. At least, that's what he hoped.

So, Cyrus began to move. Quickly, he hugged along the plateau's edge, avoiding even glancing at the forest beside him. Not that it would make it go away. It was just a simple piece of mind.

Forward he went. As his sights remained fixed on the faraway wall, Cyrus fell into a daze. Slowly, tentatively, he pressed his hand on his abdomen, where a phantom pain struck. He knew what had happened. There was no grand escape by strength or guile. No, his savior was that orange sigil.

And by this logic, he had died—plain and simple.

With his shoulders dropping, Cyrus sighed and shook his head to disperse these dark reflections. It was better to focus on the now and begin again. Still, something lingered within the dark recesses of his mind.

The map. He frowned, gaze flickering toward the forest. Didn't it lead in the opposite direction?

But did it matter? Tired, Cyrus shook his head and scattered these thoughts. Why should he trust anything in that damn place? It was too... set up, as if meticulously arranged just for him.

I'm not going back, he thought, clutching his fists so tight that they paled from the loss of blood.

Not unless there was security. And even then, it would take an army of protectors by his side and a means of escape before he even considered returning to that hamlet. For now, the wall was the only option left. After all, walls are made to keep things out... or imprison something within.

Cyrus groaned. Why did he think about that?

Another mind flush came by. Cyrus had to go. That or face whatever else this forest held. And his previous accomplishments have already hinted at the results should he dare proceed with that train of thought.

Time passed. Cyrus had clung to the edges of the plateau and eventually found a break in the form of an easy slope. He then slowly climbed down, eventually stepping before another misty thicket of trees waiting for him. Possibly filled with more... monsters.

Another sigh. Dirty hand running through his sweat-slicked hair, Cyrus paced into thought.

There's no helping it.

In the end, Cyrus gritted his teeth and descended into the foggy brush.

…

It had been a few hours since he had awoken. By now, Cyrus was deep in this part of the forest, ears and eyes strained to the limits. But then, he suddenly stilled his pace at what just crossed his ears.

Birds?! He stood there in a daze, listening, and soon a genuine smile flowered across his face. "Actual birds?!"

He could hear them far into the distance. Their melodies and chirps finally disrupted the heavy silence that plagued Cyrus for days on end. Slowly, quietly, he retrieved his camera and readied himself. Soon, he would capture proof of true life.

The thought brought a weak chuckle, glee slipping through the cracks. "I'm not in some fucking purgatory."

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And he said that with such mirth. Unlike the corpses and incomprehensible forces of death before this day, this was real life. With it meant a real ecosystem. While the wall waited for Cyrus, this was real and immediate.

Not to mention...

Having grown up listening to horror stories of men dying and ending up in a hell-like place, Cyrus could not help but wonder. After all, he had initially fallen down a hill within a forest...

Shaking his head, Cyrus dropped these thoughts and continued his trek. An hour passed, but his patience was rewarded when he spotted an owl-like bird donning a feathery crown, clinging to the bark of a tree. Close call, too. As it nearly blended with the gray fog.

Quietly, he raised the ZoomZephyr.

Click

That seemed to have startled the bird. With a quick flap of its leathery, membrane-like wings, the creature swooped down low and deep into the hazy forest.

Well, someone's shy, Cyrus thought, a smile tugging his lips.

Satisfied, he glanced in its direction one final time before heading off.

...

The deeper Cyrus delved into the forest, the more life revealed itself. By now, Cyrus had taken pictures of small rodents and some rather creepy insects. And it was strange. It seemed like the further he stepped away from the hamlet, the more life existed. There had to be a connection.

But these thoughts dashed as Cyrus came to another stop. He knelt down and silently took in the sight of paw prints larger than his hand.

"Time to pick up the pace," he muttered.

And oh, did he. But as time slipped by like sand in an hourglass, another shock reared its head: It was getting dark. Until now, all he dealt with was this static, pale light. Was he happy? A bit. Some normalcy would help the mind.

That was until it grew so dark that Cyrus was forced to use his flashlight. The worst news was that the fog thickened along with the added darkness.

Now, night had fallen. Nerves winding up, he navigated through the thicket and rough terrain, avoiding pits and all the while straining his ears for sounds of danger. Soon came a large fault that stopped him in his tracks. Frowning at the sight, Cyrus shone his flashlight on the ground below.

Too high to jump. Slowly, he walked along it until he found a large, fallen tree.

Gingerly, he placed a leg on it and added weight. Then a kick. And another. Maybe even a push. Once satisfied with its stability, Cyrus mounted it and tentatively climbed down. Meanwhile, a yellow light flashed across the high canopy, spilling rays across the misty forest. No doubt it's a sign of the pylons.

Cyrus smiled at the bottom. "Looks like I'm cl—" The sound of shrieking women reverberated from beyond the fault.

Heart lurching, Cyrus instinctively turned off his flashlight. Immediately, the darkness and fog settled around him. Just what was that?

But there was no time to ask. Listening to the screeching, Cyrus weighed his options and made his choice. He was going to run. There was no way he would trust anything like this. Yesterday was proof enough of the consequences.

Without hesitation, Cyrus moved forward as silently as possible. But those screams drew closer and closer, forcing Cyrus to full-on sprint for his life. Meanwhile, the fog became his greatest enemy, blinding him from the path ahead.

Heavy steps through the forest. Neglecting his footing, Cyrus charged through a thick bush, arms shielding his face. The branches struck and prodded, but he was able to pass through.

But then he tripped on a thick root hidden by the dark and mist. And that was when the screams were their loudest.

Quickly, Cyrus shone his light onto the source of the sound. On top of a nearby hillock, ten cougar-like beasts appeared from the fog and foliage. One screamed a ghastly howl, followed by the others, proving itself the source of the screams.

Their reflective gazes remained locked on Cyrus as he slowly stood up. Heart palpitating, Cyrus locked eyes with them and slowly backed away. Yet the beasts remained still, ever waiting for a signal.

And soon, it came.

Cyrus froze at the sight of it when those glowing green eyes appeared from the darkness. Out from the darkness emerged a hulking smilodon whose dark, metallic... plating reflected his light, fog clinging onto its arms and legs. Those jaws opened wide, revealing a row of sharp teeth and a pair of long incisors—A smilodon.

It was big. It stared at him with death. It roared.

And Cyrus ran. He heard them quickly closing the gap.

Ragged gasps and straining muscles threatened to slow Cyrus down, but he kept pushing, moving to the utmost limit.

He ran between trees. He ran against the terrain.

Hope was fading as the cougars drew closer. And when it was just about to snuff out, a sudden intense yellow light broke through the mists, revealing a break within the forest.

A second wind. And Cyrus dashed through, breaking into an open, grassy plain. There it was: the wall, colossal, larger than he could ever imagine.

But Cyrus wasted no time and kept running. His gaze ran across the ground level—There! A pair of flaming torches at the base revealed a massive metal gate. He ran towards them, but only for a few meters.

He noticed the flash first on the wall's embrasures. Then came the popping sound, followed by an object piercing the ground before him.

Guns?! His eyes nearly popped out of his head. They have fucking guns!?

The message was clear: Not another step forward. Yet, there was no time to wait as two cougars just broke through the forest line! Without hesitation, Cyrus bolted forward. At least a bullet could be instant—another crackle. And a slice of wind passed his ears, dangerously too close.

But Cyrus didn't stop. The gate drew closer and closer, almost within reach, but so did the shrill roars of—something yanked him from his back. A shriek erupted from behind as the cougar stretched its neck, teeth bared, ready to sink into his flesh. Desperate, Cyrus scrambled and tore off his pack to escape its grasp.

But he was too slow. It reached out and bit him—crackle.

The added weight fell off his back, followed by a pitiable yelp.

Yet Cyrus took this chance. Quickly, desperately, he threw off the dead weight of his pack and barreled forward with all his might. The gate loomed nearer, but it remained unopened. Rather, it was a smaller wicket that creaked ajar, offering him a reprieve. Without hesitation, he seized it, running through and crashing into the mud.

He did it. Somehow, Cyrus managed to survive unimaginable danger and even escaped a couple of beasts. Exhausted yet elated, he remained in the mud, listening to the joyous sounds of metal creaking and closing.

One second. Two.

Chest heaving and lungs burning, a weary Cyrus heard the sound of metal plating and voices drawing close.

You need to make a good impression, Cyrus, he thought, stumbling to his feet. With a shaky hand, he extended it for a handshake as they approached. "Thank yo—" As he faced the closest man, the last thing he witnessed was a rifle butt heading straight to his face.