Another week went by in relative tranquility. Rall clumsily helped Dorothy with her baby and housework. Though smarter and wiser than most of his peers, he was still an eight-year-old, so he did what he could. Still, he would not waste his chance to experience having a mother and a little sister - he knew that many would never get that opportunity.

That was not to say he had forgotten about his father. Every night his room was enveloped by the pulsing light of his Fairylight as he diligently practiced on the floor. The more he trained, the more control he gained and the more energy he could unleash. At some point, he noticed that his training sessions had started to take longer and longer, and he was struggling for every small amount of improvement.

In his notes, his father had called it 'progressive overload' and compared it to the process of building muscles. He would accumulate magical energy during the day, then release most of it through training. The more he trained, the more his capacity increased, the more power he would need to feel improvements. Once Rall's exercise became inefficient, his father's notes suggested using Lighthouse - then later, he would move on to more advanced spells.

There was a small problem. Theodore had estimated that it would take three to five months to reach the stage where a practitioner would have to change their practice - Rall was about to surpass it after less than three weeks! That realization struck the boy. At first, he thought he had been doing something wrong with his training. When he couldn't find anything, he just shrugged and moved on. He would certainly not cry about progressing faster - he knew time was not on his side.

And indeed, he was right. It was in the afternoon that the bells rang from the watchtower. One ring of the bells meant it was noon - two meant a storm was coming - three meant an Alcian official was visiting - four meant bandits or monsters - five meant the Fog. That day, the bells rang five times.

It was panic. The people exited their homes and looked towards the North. At first, they could not see anything. Then the horizon darkened, and a sinister grey mist overrun the northern sky. The huntsmen run around to organize the evacuation, one group dashing to the storage to secure the food provisions. They had gone through the procedure hundreds of times under Thork's guidance, like a well-oiled machine that had been waiting to turn on whenever needed. They knew the Fog would reach the village in less than thirty minutes, more than enough to get everyone to safety.

This day had been colder than usual. Many had not been able to dress for this weather since they had rushed out of their homes. Those who one minute earlier had been enjoying the warmth of a fireplace were now shivering. They knew that once the adrenaline would fade, they would feel the full effects of the freezing temperature on their bodies. It was common to see parents undress to give one more layer of protection to their children.

Once gathered near the Southern gate of Korn - Rall, Dorothy, and Sarah included - the head of the huntsmen, Throk's second in command, explained the plan to everyone.

"The Fog will reach the village in twenty minutes. We will travel south towards the shelters under Kels Mountain and wait there for three days. Then, we huntsmen will check the surface to see if the assault has ceased. Do not panic and keep the line orderly, and we will get there before the Fog reaches us."

"What about our homes? How will we survive winter with our homes destroyed and our instruments have rusted?" A farmer asked, hugging his two daughters to keep them warm.

"Those were the orders of chief Thork. Once he returns, we will discuss the possible solutions." The huntsmen sternly answered.

A hearty sarcastic laugh sounded from the center of the crowd. "And where is 'chief' Thork in our time of need?" Bellar Wallyben once walked in front of the villagers and asked.

"You know very well what he is doing, Mister Wallyben! He is doing the best he can for our village." The huntsman responded, annoyed. "And we do not have the time to discuss this now. We need to go before the Fog gets here!"

"The best for the village, you say? If he cared, he would not have left us at all. I say he got scared when Lightson died, and he ran off to his dear Knight's Corp Captain's arms!" Bellar argued, his supporters voiced their agreement from the crowd.

Dorothy's grip around Rall's hand became tighter, but she did not have the strength to protest while appeasing little Sarah. The baby had been crying since the first moment she had heard the bells like she could feel the air getting thicker with nervousness.

"You know what, Bellar? Do what you want. I will get these people to safety, and you are free to die however you want." Annoyance became anger as the huntsman finally had enough. He ordered his men to start guiding the people towards the shelter.

"If you follow these men, you will all die!" Screamed Bellar from the top of his lungs. "What will you do when your home's inside is as cold as the outside, when the snow falls on your children's head at night, and the food supplies are exhausted? How will you work your fields when your plows have rusted, your animals have become dried corpses?"

Everyone stood in silence. While unwilling to listen to the blacksmith's words, they could not deny his argument. Everything would perish under the Fog - then, winter would probably deal the last blow.

"W-What do we do then?" The trembling voice of a scared child asked from the crowd.

Bellar looked at him with a sinister smile. "We make a sacrifice. The Fog is never too dense in these parts. A young one should be enough."

The people knew it was coming, but they still had to hear it. Many hid their children behind their legs.

Satisfied with their reaction, Bellar resumed. "I know it's tough, but we have to decide quickly. Time is ticking away."

A creepy silence returned, soon broken by Sarah's cries. Dorothy looked around, and she was horrified when she saw many of her fellow villagers eye her baby. When her eyes met theirs, they would look away - but she could feel others turn towards her behind her back.

Rall understood what was happening and could feel something growing in him, negative emotions he had never shown before - hate, anger, disdain. He also felt his Fairylight pulsing inside him from its hideout, wanting to burst out. Still, while there were some combat spells in his father's scroll, Rall had not learned them yet. He had prioritized his Lighthouse so that he could at least protect the people of the village. But now, those same people were turning against those dearest to him.

The head huntsmen noticed that even his men were considering Bellar's proposal, and he shook his head in defeat. Thork had chosen him because he was the most trustworthy. But when his mind had gone to his wife and son, he felt powerless.

"You said Thork is doing everything he can for this village - then he would agree to make his child the first sacrifice. A newborn will give us at least two months of peace." Bellar said, trying to make the pill even a little sweeter. Everyone knew that Thork would never agree to sacrifice anyone's child, let alone his own. Still, the Fog was inching closer to Korn. They could learn to live with the shame, but they would have to survive first.

People lowered their heads to look away as they hugged their children tighter. They distanced themselves from Rall, Dorothy, and Sarah, forming a circle with them at its center while Bellar's supporters moved to seize the baby from her mother's arms.

"NOOO!" Dorothy yelled with tears streaking from her eyes, "do not dare touch her!". Sarah sensed her mother's fear and filled the air with her cry.

"Surrender the child, Dorothy! All of us will remember her sacrifice for the rest of our lives!" Bellar screeched.

Rall's insides were now boiling in rage. He saw three burly men approaching quickly, their expression one of decisiveness and pity. They were people he had known since he could remember, people who always smiled at him when he passed in front of their door, people who had treated him like family.

"Please... no. Not my Sarah..." Dorothy cried, her muscles tight as she prepared to fight with teeth and nails. But she knew she was weak. If only Thork were here, he would have killed everyone present to protect their daughter.

Rall closed his eyes, his fists, and remembered his promise to Thork. The men were now five meters away, and he could only hear Sarah's wails and Dorothy's screams.

"DO NOT TOUCH THEM." Rall's voice came out deep and powerful like that of a mature man and carried the sense of authority that was the territory of wise kings and ancient dragons. Cracks of golden lightning surrounded his figure, and his Fairylight came out to the open, pulsing and dashing around him like an enraged beast. A shockwave centered around the boy violently stuck the three men making their bodies fly twenty meters away. One of the three crashed on the window of a house and landed ruinously inside.

Everyone looked at the boy with surprise, and strangely baby Sarah stopped crying. Instead, she laughed heartily at the sudden change of atmosphere.

The people who were about to allow the greatest sin suddenly awoke from their silence and started discussing the incredible discovery. But Rall did not care, as he searched for Bellar with his eyes.

His voice returned that of an eight-year-old, the cracks of power ceased. "Leave Sarah alone. I will go. I am not a newborn, but my sacrifice should give Thork enough time to return with the portable Lighthouse."

Everyone gasped in surprise. Even Bellar remained speechless.

The truth was that the impulse he had shown was not something he could do twice, a sudden release of energy that had no basis in spellwork, just raw power. He could not do it twice, and he could not think of another way to protect Sarah and Dorothy.

Rall turned his head. "Dori, tell Thork that I did all I could."

"No, Rall. You can't go! There has to be another way!" Dori shouted. She wanted to stop him but couldn't move due to the sudden release of tension. Even Sarah tried to reach for him with her tiny hand and a crease on her forehead.

"There is no other way. It's too late to reach the shelter, and I am not yet powerful enough to defend anyone." He said matter-of-factly. A tear started falling from his right eye, but he quickly swept it away. "I promise I will try to survive."

He started walking towards the Fog while a golden orb of light the size of a marble faithfully followed behind him.

"We can't let him go! He's a light mage, for goodness sake! How can we let him sacrifice himself?" Someone screamed.

"Then do you want to send your child in there?" Someone answered rhetorically. After that exchange, everyone looked at the child and his Fairylight moving alone through the deserted village.

Once again, shame hit them - now, they could only pray he would be enough.

In a minute, Rall reached the Northern gate and passed it. He did not turn around, for if he did, it would make it harder to leave. He saw the grey wall of mist headed towards him, and, for a moment, he felt like he saw a pale hand stretch towards him through the smoke.

Fear struck him, but his courage prevailed. 'I am sorry, dad. I will not follow your advice this time.'

When the Fog was twenty meters away, he started reciting an incantation that many women and men from the continent would instantly recognize with reverence.

"Through the night and through the mist, let those who see our heavenly light seek salvation in our Lighthouse. May their soul be at..." The smoke swallowed the boy whole before he could finish. Rall felt cold hands grab him while avid pale tongues tasted his skin. He was startled, but he would not surrender himself without a struggle. He noticed that his Fairylight was already repelling the Fog around it, the ghostly arms avoiding it, so he moved it closer to regain some space, then resumed the incantation. "...May their souls be at ease under our protection, and we swear under the heavens to bring them peace!"

A dome of light surrounded Rall, 2 meters wide in all directions. Its golden walls repelled the insidious mist, emitting pressure strong enough to keep those terrifying hands away. Although he had hand marks all over his body that burned like hell, he had survived the first impact. Now came the hard part.

From inside the walls of Korn, the villagers saw the Fog surrounding the boy and halting its advance. Not a second later, it started retreating to the North, soon disappearing from view. Many signed of relief - some passed out - others remained silent in prayer. The only sound came from Dorothy and Sarah as they cried their hearts out when they saw that no traces of Rall remained. No one dared try to console them that night.