Raising from the ground was a thick white mist that soon rose to the treetops and swallowed everything inside it. The milky white coating covered everything, swirling around against the windows. Norman was not bothered by it at all, mostly because he was still fast asleep. Slacume on the other hand could do nothing but frantically bounce his eyes around like a chameleon on cocaine. Orel had to ask once he could hear his teeth rattling from the driver's seat.

“Is there usually this much mist here?”

“Frankly, no, there shouldn’t," Slacume tried to laugh it away. "My town had this saying: Don’t be playing in the woods; otherwise, the mist will whisk you away.” He recounted with cold sweat running down his face.

“Take you to where?”

“I don’t know. Dead Men tell no tales, and I'm not up to finding out."

“You really believe in telltales?” Ándras asked, completely forgetting how their last adventure went.

“You wouldn't be laughing if it happened to you. Thank the queen for the Magistrate.”

“Are we there yet?” Ándras crossed his arms like a grumpy child.

“It’s around these parts, but I can’t make up any signs.” Slacume squint his eyes.

The car was driving slowly, almost to the point of stopping. Slacume didn’t want to stop, even less to step out, but couldn’t see anything on the road either. They should have arrived by this point; Slacume was sure of it but didn't want to admit it. He had driven through these parts more times than he could count, but nothing seemed familiar anymore, partly because of the fog but mostly because they had been driving a straight road. There were no straight lines like that on that path.

“Should we step out and look around?” Ándras asked, grasping the handle.

“No, no, no, no, no." Slacume objected, sounding like a chainsaw on idle. "Stop it! No one's doing anything!"

“Norman...” Orel tried asking.

A snore was all he got as an answer. Orel was clever that he knew trying the same thing would only waste his time. That's why he decided to kick the seat until his leather shoe would stab Norman in the back.

“Norman!” Orel yelled.

“Wha-What. Oh, are we there yet?” Norman shook his head.

For reasons beyond comprehension, Norman unlocked his seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped out. Before anyone could realize it, Norman had left the vehicle.

“No!” Orel yelled.

“Damn! We can’t lose him!“ Slacume hit the brakes.

The car stopped quickly from the slow pace, though the mud made it slip around and turn almost sideways like a sled.

It was too late. Norman had stepped out into the fog and disappeared without a trace. Slacume's face turned pale like in an old movie.

“Norman, where did you go?” Ándras blunged out of the car.

“Ándras?!” Orel tried to grab him.

It only took Ándras a single step to be swallowed by the fog, and he was gone as well. Orel's cries echoed into nothingness like prayers to god.

“I knew it! The mist is here!” Slacume panicked.

Terrified like a small animal, Slacume hit the pedal and tried to turn the car, drifting as the gravel and mud spun out of the wheels. He had nothing else in his mind other than running away like a corrupted politician on the first day of the war.

“Wait, they’re my friends!” Orel pleaded.

“Didn’t you see that? They’re gone!” Slacume pushed the pedal to the metal.

The moment Slacume used to talk back to Orel proved to be a fatal mistake. The next thing Orel felt was getting slammed against the seat in front of him. Whatever the car hit, it hit badly. Smoke rose from the front while the two had barely time to recover. Orel was the first to regain consciousness and saw the dire situation. With pain all through his body, he crawled out of the car. Slacume was not that lucky, as his door was stuck.

"Help me!" Slacume coughed with barely enough force to slap the window.

Orel took out a rock nearby and smashed the glass, time and time again until there was enough space for Slacume. With the flames coming ever so closer, Orel dragged Slacume out. It took all of his strength, but the two were now relatively safe. Slacume recovered after a while, and the first thing he could think was to take a look at the car. It had hit an electric pole near the road. The car slowly yet surely burned from the inside out, only leaving the metal chassis. The two stood by the dirt road surrounded by trees, helpless like abandoned kittens.

Orel took a look at Slacume, still near the burning rubble. He was praying like a criminal for his last chance at redemption.

“No, no, no, no.” Slacume chanted in despair. "I’m finished.” His voice cracked as snot burst out of his runny nose.

Orel didn’t know what to do but knew he had to do something. Just looking at him made him feel awful as well.

“It’s alright.” Orel patted his shoulder.

Only some words were audible. The rest was utterly indescribable from the weeping and sniffing.

“Gotthold’s going to end me.” Slacume cried out.

Orel could not really sympathize with the feeling but knew a loss was a loss, even if it was reputation and occupation.

“At least we’re fine.” He said with the gentlest voice he could manage.

The man was not listening. He laid before Orel quietly. After a few seconds of silent whimpering, Slacume finally rose, and cleaned his glasses, even though the lenses were completely shattered. Orel couldn't save his suit from the damage either, but it was still fine enough for him.

“Are you ok?” Orel asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed a bit of venting.”

“A bit of venting...” Orel grew a suspicious smile.

“What?” Slacume seemed frighteningly normal.

“Nothing.” Orel looked at Slacume’s shattered glasses. “Maybe the insurance still holds?” He tried to change the subject.

“Oh, these? Don’t worry.”

He took out a pendant from around his neck with a colorful gem as the centerpiece and held it by the chain. Orel hadn’t seen such garnished jewelry even in his grandfather's treasures.

“O spirits, give aid and mend that is broken and restore that has changed.” Slacume chanted, waving the pendant in his hand.

Small flickering lights appeared around him of different colors, where one floated onto the glasses and popped with a flash. When the light vanished, the lenses were all fixed again and shining. Slacume hid the pendant under his shirt and put the glasses back on as if nothing happened.

“What was that?” Orel was sure nothing would surprise him anymore.

“You don't know about spirits? They’re just some lesser spirits I can call to help. I’m not that good with magic overall, but I got some spirit affinity, meaning I can get them to help me cast spells and such. It’s pretty rare but a bit wasted on me, to be honest.”

“I could use that spell." Orel thought back to all the times he broke a vase or plate.

“I don't want to be some sort of handyman.” Slacume scoffed. “I can't even do this without my pendant. It helps me concentrate my magic.”

“Don’t mages usually have those sorts of things?”

“Well, it depends. Some spells work better with wands or orbs, but you don’t need any if you got the talent.” Slacume said. “You’re an adventurer. Don’t you have magic?”

“I can only create pennies.” Orel threw one. He had trained enough to create one whenever he wanted, though the limit was about the size of a small pouch.

Slacume traced the coin in the air. You couldn't make a more questioning face without drawing a question mark on your forehead.

“What?” Orel noticed.

“Um, how should I say this? You were the party leader, not Norman, right?”

Orel realized the point of the question. It still hurt, even though Norman and Ándras were alright with the fact.

“It was his idea for me to be the leader,” Orel said. "I don't know why he chose me to be his student, to begin with."

“You’re his student? I mean, I should have guessed. Rarely you will see a master and apprentice on such good terms.”

“Don't get me wrong. He's not that nice.”

“Mages don't pick and choose their students however they want. They're pretty harsh about selecting them. If they don't see prowess or talent, they won't pick you.”

“What talent?” Orel dropped his hands.

“How should I know? I barely got anyone to teach me.” Slacume shrugged. “Well, if you want some tips, look out for rings. they're the most popular item around, and despite their size, can do a lot of damage.”

“Thanks for the info, I guess.”

Thinking back, Orel realized he didn’t see a ring on Norman’s fingers. He said he didn’t own any magic items, but there wasn't even a wedding ring.

A little bit of silence followed. Both started to look around themselves, not just because they had nothing to say. The two were along a long obscure dirt road circulated by mountainous forest, blocking out the sun along with the fog. It was humid and timid, but not cold. The fresh smell of grass and trees filled the air while a splash of mud followed each step. It was surprisingly quiet, only a slight wind went around the trees, and perhaps some bird chirped in the distance. The dirt road continued to the mysterious fog, where you couldn’t exactly tell how far it would go.

“Not getting a signal. It can’t just be the location.” Slacume put his phone away.

“Should we follow the road? Wait for rescue?” Orel looked down the road.

“No point waiting. They’re not going to find us if this thing transported us somewhere.”

“What is this place?” Orel looked around.

“This thing may have just displaced us, but in the worst-case scenario, we’re now on a different plane.”

“Where’s Norman and Ándras?"

“It’s possible it placed them somewhere else.”

“Then there’s nothing else to do.” Orel started following the road.

“Wait, where you’re going?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not going just to sit around.” Orel continued.

“Wait a moment!” Slacume took a sprint.

He hurried to Orel’s side, glad to see that he wasn’t left alone.

They walked, walked, and walked some more on an endless dirt road. Time passed. How much is not specific as no clocks worked, but the sun had started dropping from the curtain of the sky. The moisture made it exhausting, and finally, as they saw two sets of footprints ahead of them, they gave up.

“We’ve been walking in circles.” Slacume sat down.

“There’s the car.” Orel pointed out.

“What do we do now?” Orel leaned against a tree next to Slacume.

Slacume looked up to the sky hopelessly, like a bird in a zoo. “I don’t know. Storm clouds are gathering.”

The silent forest suddenly echoed a horrible howl. It made Slacume’s heart spike. Orel was frightened as well, but Slacume became hysterical. He covered his eyes and curled up like a baby, chanting ominously.

“It’s here. Don’t look at it. It’s here. Let it pass. Don’t look at it.” He whispered.

“What is?"

“Barghest.” Slacume hushed.

The howling closed in on them. Orel could hear rustling from the fog. A four-legged thing was steadily stomping toward them. Orel followed suit and covered his eyes. His senses heightened, or perhaps it meant the beast was close. On the road was a distinct pattern of splashing mud. The sound made Slacume let out a peep before silencing himself. The thing growled like a wolf or a bear. It gnashed its teeth and gripped the ground with its claws as it galloped toward them. It passed Slacume with a single growl. The beast continued towards Orel with no other sound than its rugged mane rustling in the wind.

Orel could feel its foul breath as it sniffed his face. He remained still as the beast opened its mouth and let out a warm breath. One of the teeth scratched his forehead, which felt like being sliced with a knife. At that moment, Orel felt the closest to death he had ever gotten, and it froze him still.

The dog backed out. Orel couldn’t tell what happened but heard a set of footprints splashing from the road. A powerful yet hoarse voice followed.

“Foul beast of these woods! May you forgive me, but I shall slay you today! You shall fall like the setting sun!”

The dog growled loudly and stepped forth. The steps galloped as if they had begun to attack. Somehow it had begun to rain, and not only that but thunder. Slacume couldn’t open his eyes, but Orel took a peek.

It was a long foreign swinging a polearm. The man had wrapped his head under a white cloak while his orange garb stood out from underneath the large hide over his shoulders. The dog’s eyes glowed red like lanterns in the night, and its breath steamed out between its giant canine teeth. Instead of looking away, the man stared at the huge black dog. The air started to feel static with electricity, and the storm clouds darkened the sky.

The dog growled and bounced at him. Instead of dodging, the man let the dog sink its teeth into his arm like two boards full of nails. Once the beast locked its jaw, it ground its teeth further into the flesh as blood spewed out. The dog looked back at the man, expecting him to clench in pain; instead, the man kept his unrelenting gaze and his face unfazed. He swung with his weapon in one arm. The dog kept its head but lost an ear.

The beast let loose and whimpered. The thunder became ever more apparent. The man raised his voice again while spinning his weapon above his head.

“Be consumed by god’s thunder! Strike down and devour, Raiju!” He held his weapon high.

A blinding flash of light and a roar of thunder. The blade swung down in an instant. It beheaded the beast like a guillotine. A wolf’s head wrapped in lighting formed from the edge, growling twice as loud. It opened its maw and devoured the decapitated head. After a quick gulp, the thunderous wolf began eating the rest of the corpse. Orel and Slacume watched in horror as the body disappeared, leaving but a pool of black blood.

“It is not only you who is an omen of death. Through hell shall your soul be purged.” The man prayed on the spot.

“Who are you?” Slacume shouted in shock.

“I am a humble monk of Raikou temple on pilgrimage, Katō Isao,” The man calmly explained as he strapped his weapon behind his back to a sash.

“That technique, have I seen it before?” Orel had a faint memory of something similar.

“Is your hand alright?” Slacume asked.

“These are no mortal wounds." Isao stretched his arm over his right hand.

Blue sparks flew out and scattered along the arm like little spider legs. It was like he was welding himself. Orel couldn't see anything because of the bright light but could hear the sparks rattling. Soon the sound stopped, and the blue light retracted into Isao's hand.

“Never mind that. How the hell does a monk from Azuma get here of all places?” Slacume addressed the elephant in the room.

“I have followed storm clouds here in search of power and found myself here while traversing the great streams,” Isao explained calmly.

“Oy, Orel. There’s something wrong with that monk.” Slacume leaned over.

Glancing at the lean stature of the weirdly dressed man and having witnessed the spectacle that just unfolded, Orel could, at some level, agree with the sentiment.

“No one should be able to control electric currents like that, even with magic. Also, he totally just cauterized that wound like it was nothing.”

Isao didn't care for what the two thought and kept his focus on tending to himself. After doing a few stretches, Isao continued traveling along the path without a moment's notice. Orel started following him, as he was their best option for survival. Slacume was not that quick to trust a stranger, but he knew their options were slim. Isao could hear Orel walking behind him and another feel another presence following them from tree to tree.

“Follow me at your own risk," Isao answered before Orel could ask.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Orel asked another in return.

“I do not need to. I am a vagabond. The next step of my foot is what leads me.”

“Why are you traveling? Just to get stronger?"

“It is my holy duty, something an outsider’s ears are not welcome to hear.”

“Stop pestering him, Orel!” Slacume yelled from a distance.

“...Why did you kill it, the Barghest?” He continued anyways.

“Orel!” Slacume yelled louder but hid again as Isao turned his head.

“...By feeding the lighting, I become stronger. It was only by chance that I rescued you along the way.”

“Do you know how to get out?”

“Whatever trial I may face, I will give it my all. Fate has not brought us here, but ourselves, and as long as we display courage and perseverance, we will be able to continue.”

“I see, so you won’t mind us following you?” Orel was not listening.

“No one saves us but ourselves,” Isao closed his eyes for a moment. "What I have shown you is not my strength, but compassion."

“Is it alright?” Slacume’s frightened voice echoed.

“Probably, as long as we won’t get in the way," Orel yelled back.

Slacume did not wholly trust those words but was starting to get bored of hiding behind trees. He walked next to them with the most fragile poker face imaginable.

“I- My name is Slacume Potomac.” He could not keep his cool.

As Slacume could finish the sentence, Isao turned to him with a sour face. “I did not ask for your name.”

The walk continued the same way as before, Orel and Isao walking side to side, and Slacume cowardly following them from a safe distance. The mist was relentlessly blocking the view, and the forest seemed to continue as long as the road, but there was something different at one point. The two noticed an old crumbled rock fence forming on each side of the road. Not long after, they saw a broken sign with letters pointing down from the way it used to. Etched letters were hard to read as age and weather had already scraped the dark paint away, but Orel could make up a word with some investigation. “Bertim.” If it was truly Bertin, his friends could be there, and Orel needed to find out.

Traveling a bit farther, the three witnessed the mist finally opening up to reveal something. A tall stone building was before them with its tall central tower, two enormous wooden doors, and once colorful round windows turned bleak. Before they could approach, an entirely different scenery opened around their feet. A field full of lean and short stones revealed itself to be an unkept graveyard. The horrid display continued for far too long. At the end of the rows of tombstones stood a church. Walking beside the long-forgotten graves of the dead was a testament to willpower itself, for Orel could not shake a feeling of dread from him. Isao brushed the graves with a disappointed look while Slacume held back tears of terror. They reached the large wooden doors on the round entrance. A quiet hum resonated from the inside for their displeasure. With that in mind, Orel knocked on the door handle.