“I don’t think we’re there yet.” Norman looked around himself, all alone.

No, they were not. Norman was in an unfamiliar place, where his only companion was the voices inside his head. The bamp fog may have been nice to breathe, but the moisture made his clothes all wet. Norman looked around, a little bit fuzzed about what had just happened and where everyone was. All around him were no familiar faces or no one at all. He only saw trees, large ones at that, and some foliage on the ground.

“Where am I? This fog isn’t normal. This place doesn’t feel right. Maybe I should use that now.”

He lifted his palm and chanted the word as he remembered it. Even if he had not known it, he knew now as it was not a necessary part.

“Flicker flare.”

A small soft yellow light the size of a baseball floated over his palm. It didn’t feel alright to use it, but he had no option. Norman sent a couple of lights all around to search the environment instead of dangering himself. One by one, they formed in his palm and circled him. While they may have disappeared from his sight, Norman could track where every light was located and see roughly the surfaces of things that the light illuminated. It was a strange sensation, something that Norman had solved about it during his previous encounter with the spell.

However, this was not without some consequences.

“So that’s how it is. What a masterful display of deception, Tobias Norman-Alcaeus.” A familiar yet awful voice whispered inside Norman’s head. It was none other than the previous owner Daniel.

Norman didn’t want to react to him, but it pissed him off. He knew it would happen, but he had to put up with it now. He decided to carry the anger and resentment he had created with the decision to take the spell. It was only the consequence of his actions.

“You are nothing more than a liar. You are no illusionist at all. Your magic is the proof. What is the source that inspired such an evil spell? Tell me, Tobias.”

No answer, spoken, or thought came to him. Unfortunately, Daniel was quite confident with his tongue, at least when it came to threats and picking on others.

“Do you enjoy stealing other people’s hard work? Perhaps you have no talent to create your own? Or are all psychemancers as evil as they say?”

“That's none of your business. You lost."

“Hmph. You would have been toast if it weren’t for your indestructible friend. You only claimed what others had achieved, just like your spell. The only thing you got was those scars, nothing more.”

“Shut up, or I'll bind you to a mug.” Norman sat down.

"You would have already done so if you could," Daniel called him out.

"Then I will just make you disappear."

“Now, now. Can't you see I'm just trying to spark a conversation?"

"You don't have many friends, don't you?"

"Try understanding my point of view here. You would be shocked about being stuck in someone’s mind as well, wouldn’t you? After all, it was without my consent.” Daniel figuratively sat next to him.

Norman wanted to concentrate on the spell even more with the presence of Daniel.

“I get it. I won’t get anywhere by taking the piss with you." Daniel could feel it. "I got to ask. Where are all the others you have stolen from? Did you free them, or can’t I see them?”

“I don’t need to tell you.”

“You made me share your mind without permission. The least you can do is give some answers.”

Norman stayed quiet.

“Well?”

“Sigh. There’s only one besides you currently, but it seems I can’t talk to her while using your spell.”

“Don't you know how it works, or have you not used it?”

“I’d rather not use it.”

“But there is someone besides me, this ‘her’ you mentioned. She’s the one you stole that invisibility magic from, ain’t she?”

Norman didn’t want to talk about it.

“Oh, come on. Why start if you aren’t going to finish?” Daniel pleaded.

“She’s my big sister.”

Even Daniel knew to give a small break to Norman before continuing.

“So, is she alive?”

“Barely.”

“Oh. Does that mean I’m alive as well?”

Though the laws and physics behind souls are taboo and mostly unknown, Norman had acquired some information through his spell. A demerit of it, one could say, is that once activated, it creates a copy of the soul the spell belonged to. These souls are not connected to the main body and thus do not receive new information afterward but do remember everything from their past. Norman theorized that one reason he could wield the spells even after only seeing them once was somewhat connected with the past memories of the previous user.

“You should be, just in prison."

“We must be caught then. What prison?”

“Shaoghal.”

“Fuck. “Daniel released an angered sigh.

“I’m surprised that you are still alive. After all, it’s one of those places that serve as a death sentence.”

“Is Fynn there too?”

“No, you took all the blame.”

“So the queen accepted my plea. I hope Fynn is doing alright.”

“I didn’t think you cared about others.”

“Family sticks together.”

“Mage families aren’t always the best.” Norman smiled slightly.

“Hah, truly.” Daniel chuckled.

“By the way, do you know how to get out of here?”

“This isn’t my territory. You’re out of luck if you get lost in Gaunnes.”

“What are you even doing here?” Daniel realized to ask.

“We’re here to find Avalon.”

“What? Well, alright, I don’t see why you would lie about it. So you were looking for a realm when we met as well?”

“Yup. Though the fox hunt was somewhat of a coincidence.”

“What an awful coincidence.”

Daniel was silent for a while, which was more than fine for Norman.

Daniel sighed deeply. “Well, you told me a secret, so I could tell a secret that no soul on earth knows.”

“Why would I care?”

"Now, now. You will like it."

Norman rolled his eyes. "Fine."

“You know that Fynn is adopted, right? But do you know why he was adopted?”

“No, but- Wait, what did you say? Then how was he put as a Duke?”

“It’s a bit complicated, but the factor lies in that he was recognized as a son by my father.”

“That sounds only half of the story.”

“Our family is known for this illness that kills most of us sooner or later.”

“I see.” Norman thought if they were inbreeding.

“My father was a fool, well a loving fool. He would rather let us live as a normal family in those slimy huts than a royal family. The whole Dukedom was barely keeping itself together. He died in those conditions, and I became the Duke.”

“But that’s barely any secret. I could’ve checked that on the net.”

“I’m getting there!” Daniel was frustrated. “But there is just one thing that very few know.”

“Which is?”

“There is no disease. That is just something the public thinks. Very few in the family believe in it. It’s more like a cautionary tale for children.”

“What is it then?”

“Think it this way. We are perhaps the last to use cupbearers in all of Albion. Sounds stupid, until you realize that those people sometimes get sick like us.”

Norman gasped. “You kill each other?”

“When needed.”

“But, then who killed your father?”

“That is the secret that only I know.” Daniel laughed under his breath like an engine trying to start. “I did.”

“You murdered your father? Why?" Norman couldn't even begin to process the information.

“I had no choice! That fool was going to let us all die away in poverty!”

“What about Fynn?”

“Fynn does not need to know. He was sad, but it’s fine as he doesn’t have our blood.”

Norman felt sick to his stomach. He still felt ill thinking of times he had hurt people accidentally. Sure, he hated his parents, but a thought like that never crossed his mind.

“Did you kill your mother as well?” Norman felt solid anger.

Daniel's silence surprised Norman to the point it almost surpassed his anger.

“She was taken from us too soon. Perhaps the world was bringing itself to balance, or maybe it's all bad karma,” Daniel spoke softly.

“I thought this country made me feel sick to my stomach, but you made me remember that it's the chef that ruins the soup. What type of person mourns their mother yet kills their father with glee?”

“Then what are you? A paragon of morals? You bury truth like I buried my mother, but it still makes you a liar. Both of us have brought someone down for power. We both acted out of desperation, and it has brought us here.”

“We aren't the same. I regret my mistakes every day; You would do it again if you had the chance.” Norman said.

“Maybe I would, but one cannot change the past, and now we both carry sins on our backs. The ends might not justify the means, but there are only so many means that are not an end for you.”

“To this day, I cry for the things I’ve done. Your eyes told me everything I needed to know. They are both cold.”

“What a pitiful man you truly are, Tobias Norman. You have truly failed as a mage.”

“If being a mage means disregarding basic human decency, I would rather have no magic at all.”

“Yet you still chose to teach it to others. Where is the sense in that?"

“If I didn't need your spell I would gladly shut you up.”

“If you don’t like it, then return it to me,” Daniel asked with refined anger.

“I can’t." Norman let out the fact.

“You can’t, or you don’t know?”

“I can't return a spell. I wouldn't have any if I could.”

“Then why did you steal it?”

“...I couldn't let you have it.”

“You decide to steal it, just like that? Are you serious? And I'm the lunatic here? You are but a thief!”

“Shut it!”

“All this sad talk about your sister, yet you're just fine using it. I have not gone insane, have I? What was it that you said? 'how can you cry for your mother when you killed your father?' then how is it different whose life you ruin when you steal their spell?”

“It's not the same!"

“No, Norman. We are the same. Two equally despicaple people. Neither of us truly cares about others, but I've chosen to only care about myself. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there! You can’t pick and choose how you like! It’s either you or them. Choose, Norman, choose!”

“That’s it!” Norman had to let go and switch back to his other magic.

“What a pitiful existence this is.” Daniel sighed. “I will be waiting here until one of us dies.”

After he made sure Daniel was gone, Norman took a breather.

“What was I thinking?” Norman stared at nothingness.

“Norman...” Lisa called out.

“Spare your strength, Lisa. I’m fine.” Norman heaved with anxiety.

“I am always there for you. You aren't alone.” Lisa faded.

“I need to find them, whatever it takes.” Norman stepped forward.

At the ominous church, the chanting escaping from the door’s cracks made Orel hesitant trying to open it. He collected his courage to push, but the doors wouldn’t budge. With some force behind it, Orel still struggled to make them open, as if they were locked or blocked by something. He even banged the door with his fist, but it only made the sounds fall silent.

“Is there anyone there?” Orel asked from the door, slightly distressed.

“What type of sanctuary does not allow travelers inside?” Isao was ready to knock the door down.

“I don’t want to be near all these graves.” Slacume shivered like a small dog left outside in a snowstorm.

Echoing footsteps traveled next to the door, and soon a silent whisper of a fearful older man answered as if pressed next to the door on the other side.

“What is your business here?”

Slacume read the hint and answered straight away. “Were the ones sent by Duke Lionel!”

“Thank gods! Have you slain it? The dark beast of the forest roaming inside the fog?”

“Yes, it is now gone,” Orel reassured.

“I am most thankful for your actions, but the danger persists.”

“You mean the fog?”

“Yes, it has surrounded us. The black hound would not let us flee, and other fiends have come from the woods.”

“Are you the priest here?” Isao asked straightforwardly.

“Excuse my rudeness; I am father Ostwind. I have most of the village here, where we will hold until the fog releases us.”

“Do not worry, brother in faith. We shall find a way to release the curse that has befallen on your lands.”

“Ah, a fellow priest. I give my blessing to you. Please take this token with you; the people will know you are to cause no harm. Please tell them to seek shelter here.” Ostwind slid a copper plate with a seal of the church from under the door.

“Where should we go?” Orel asked.

“If only I could give you advice of direction, but I must ask your aid first. Many people are still trapped in their houses but too afraid to seek shelter because of boggards. The once helpful brownies have become enraged and betrayed their previous masters, taking shelter in the forest south of here and causing havoc during the night. I must ask you to try and make them leave so that no more people would be lost.”

“I see. We’ll try and sort it out.” Orel said.

“Thank you. I must consult other survivors now. Please return safe and sound.” Ostwind’s steps echo away.

Slacume seemed even more nervous than before as the trio walked on the road south of the village, passing by barricaded houses.

“The situation is direr than I could have imagined. This is something Magistrate would need to handle, not us.”

“Norman did say that some places could bring out evil spirits.”

“I hope there isn’t anything cursed lurking in the forest.” Slacume feared.

One could see a peek of light in some of the windows or a person watching, only to hastily back away. The whole village was spookily silent, while even the slightest creak or bash made people like Slacume jump. The road was no longer muddy but cobblestone, while the houses ranged from slightly modern to old wooden houses with tile roofs. Many of them had a chimney, but only a few had any smoke coming out of them. The fog was slightly thinner there, only reaching around one’s knees, but it seemed to raise even to the tallest of buildings at some points, only leaving the long central tower of the church barely visible above it from far away.

“What’s a boggart?” Orel asked.

“Think of it as a house spirit, as a fairy turned evil. Normally they are nice and all, called brownies, but if they go mad about something you did to them, they turn into boggarts. I haven’t seen them myself, they’re regional, but I’ve heard they are quite hideous.”

“Evil spirits, wreckers of homes. I shall lay their souls to rest.” Isao said.

“Are you from Gaunnes?” Orel turned his head back to Slacume.

“Yes, from Tuathcol village. I’ve lived here my entire life, but my family came here from Libertas.”

“Did you go to Magistrate to learn magic?”

“Um, yes, I did. Those snobs only took me in because they were interested in spirit affinity, and I couldn’t pass an opportunity like that. They only gave me the second-lowest education level, but it was enough for me to score this job.” Slacume answered humbly.

“Spirits are not to be meddled with or controlled.” Isao detested the thought.

“No, no, no, I don’t control them. I just ask for help.”

The menacing eyes between the white robes made Slacume freeze. Orel could feel the tension but could only watch from a distance.

“Work out your own salvation. Do not depend on others."

“I don't know why they help me, but I can't do anything without them,” Slacume explained frantically.

“Understanding is the heartwood of well-spoken words. I am disappointed in you, forest-dweller.”

Slacume felt more anger than fear. Orel wouldn't go in between. His opinion was that people should sort their problems by themselves, not by outside influence. The three continued down the road with silence on two sides, with Orel deciding to stick with Slacume from pity.

Snorting disgust, Slacume couldn’t bear to look Isao in the eyes while wobbling along the street with hands in his pockets, kicking rocks around. A nonstop stream of mumbling followed him, nearing Orel’s ears.

“What is the deal with that monk? Blatantly judging me like some goon.” Slacume kicked a rock. “You know I’m not like that, don’t you?”

Orel hesitated but needed to say something after being called out.

“Well, no, but that’s because we know each other. Maybe you should try doing the same.”

It was not precisely what Slacume wanted to hear, but he couldn’t entirely deny it either. He didn’t answer anything more than a slight grumble. Even though Slacume was much closer to his age, Orel didn’t feel comfortable speaking to him. He couldn’t exactly say if it was his personality or that Orel hadn’t talked much with anyone of his age for some time. It reminded him of school, where he had many friends, but most left the small village for better education. Perhaps that was why it was easier to be with Norman, someone older and wiser, a source of wisdom and advice. Living so far from the coast, Orel would rather spend his time with his family, and once his father left, Deras would take him on some of his trips.

Orel couldn’t hold the insight for too long as the forest was starting to unfold ahead, full of trails filled with mist and slender yet long trees blooming with colored leaves in the shades of orange and red. Whatever their situation was, they had to continue deeper into the dark woods. Isao held the lead, following a trail of inhuman footprints to the mist before Orel and Slacume could catch him. They decided to follow the scrambled prints, trying not to think about how many tiny feet had gone through it. The forest in Albion was very different from Pohjola, where only a few needle-bearing trees could stand the cold weather. The coastal humidity and mild temperature made it easy for plenty of flora to flourish. Green moss cushioned their steps, covered by leaves while veiny roots of the mature oak trees sprouted from the ground.

Bushes, both wide and barbed, blocked some of the routes, while bad marks that something or something had passed had become ever so visible from the broken branches on trees to bushes had been cleared. Yes, they were close now. Elevation changes made it hard to pass, but after some small hills and streams, Orel and Slacume arrived at the beginning of a mystical clearing. Strange it was. Indeed, the trees withered to the center until only dead husks remained. Like the bushes, no leaves bloomed on them, and grass grew in yellow patches. It was the center that caused it all, as something unnatural had been done there. A dark burrow, seemingly artificial, ruptured its rocky exterior from the soil. Whatever was underneath was purposely dug there, nothing that the small spirits could ever achieve.

“That’s where they must be hiding.” Slacume pointed to the opening.

It was pretty straightforward, as imprints covered the muddy ground in small yet long footprints with almost no spot remaining clean. Orel didn’t know anything about them but could already tell that there must be dozens of them and that they would most likely be relatively slender and fast. Orel noticed that a pair of sandals had already passed the field and went inside, meaning Isao would not wait for them. There was no time to stand around and wait, but somehow the thought of the cave terrified Orel, almost to the same extent as Slacume, who did his best to try and keep his composure, though he did not that well execute his performance. With the rising fog creeping behind them, the two slipped down the wet, muddy opening inside the dark chasm. The sun would soon set beneath the mist. The darkest of horrors and threatening of dangers would start opening their gleaming eyes and gnashing their pointed teeth together before setting out to search for the poor souls lost in the woods. A rare event would begin in response to the oncoming terrors once the bloody moon rose to the sky above. The thundering storm tells about their arrival during the darkest of nights, and the wailing screams follow. The wind howls in the night. Heed those who it calls. Naught could you escape. The hunt had begun.