The glacial embrace of the fog was murderous and cruel.
The biting cold pressed against Oren and Selvar's steps, glaciers jutting from the ground and forcing them into yet another path, as Selvar coordinated the ever-changing terrain of the mist with utmost vigilance.
Thin ice cracked and crunched beneath Oren's feet. His robe and skin clung together in places, as though the cold had bound them into one.
The gradually dropping temperature made it feel as though they had been trapped in a moment that refused to end.
But, assuming this was the final stretch, Oren was not surprised by the severity of the cold.
He could not see Selvar, but he could feel the frost enshrouding the thread between them.
Around them, the vicious shroud of ghastly whispers that filled the grey veil stretched their steps.
They continued walking.
A daunting silence settled between them, carrying a tacit understanding that a single word could throw things off course, so they only spoke when necessary.
For some reason, Selvar wanted to respect the grave and the deceased, as if it mattered more than it should.
Then again, who would mess about in a place meant for the fallen?'
Oren inhaled deeply, then shivered, suppressing the urge to make a noise.
'Just move. The faster I walk, the faster I escape this maddening place.'
Yet, for some reason, instead of moving faster, he halted.
Suddenly, a frigid gust tore past them, a wave of freezing air pouring over their bodies.
It instantly froze Oren in place, yet Selvar continued without hindrance.
Oren exhaled slowly, his breath billowing into pale mist.
'This… is not right.'
He felt a slight tug from the thread.
Gripping it tightly, Oren found momentary warmth in the connection.
Then, in the next instant, he heard a grunt, and the incredibly sturdy thread pulled him back on track.
Without a word, he allowed himself to be towed through the hazardous zone of Everdream's fog for a while.
Even here, in such a chaotic situation, no one could manage to look intimidating, and yet, despite being half frozen, the Immortal Demon was as threatening as a bear to a mere child.
Whilst the arrow in his neck played the part, the coldness of the tundra dulled its pain.
Like this, in such a tattered state, Oren wondered what the people of his home would say, those damned mindless puppets.
Strangely, he missed their cruel gazes, their pitiful pleas, their quiet scorn, even their foul reactions to the smallest inadequacies he committed.
Gritting his teeth, Oren found himself smiling wryly.
'Why am I thinking such thoughts? Am I… going to freeze to death? Am I going to die…?'
'Oh, wait… I cannot die.'
He chuckled quietly, though there was nothing humorous about being frozen for eternity.
To their luck, the world warmed slightly after, as though shedding a shell of frost.
Even then, that solace was temporary, for he still felt faint shivers through the thread, along with the sound of gritting teeth.
"Ah… even out here you laugh? But if you do not want to freeze, reserve your energy for moving faster!"
Oren said instantly, "I understand…"
He waited a moment, then spoke in a hollow tone, his voice distorted, barely able to form itself.
"Once we get to Everdream, we need a place to stay and to please the people. Only then can we find the Erol."
Selvar pulled on the string, signalling his agreement.
It seemed that even Selvar, an Enlightened who was so skilled and versatile, the most capable of traversing this land, felt hesitation amid the frozen remains of the distraught battlefield.
Naturally, that was no surprise, for anyone walking into the fog was suicide.
Among the dead who lay scattered across this frozen wasteland, the moment they entered, their fate was sealed.
Before long, their hearing was stolen by the endless murmurs of the veil, their sight trapped beneath the fog, their voices reduced to whispers, their sense of smell blocked completely, their touch overpowered by the immense cold.
Together, these things caused their fragile wills to fracture, draining them of all hope.
For Oren, not a single thing in the world could drain him of his hope, of his own ardent desires.
Though hollow, they were there.
They were… enough.
This was the same for Selvar. The man he had met only hours ago also possessed an indomitable will.
Fortunately, for them, the cold was easing up. But before he could relax, Oren heard a muffled sound of ice crushing.
Then, a subtle absence of movement. There was no longer a pull from the end of the string.
His eyes widened, then calmed as he heard a response. Selvar shouted urgently.
"Turn right. There's an iceberg here. It's collapsing…"
"An iceberg?!"
Oren pulled the string tight, then shifted through the snow and moved left. After a while, he felt the golden thread react as Selvar redirected them onto a safer path.
When they had first entered compared to now, he had felt a faint familiarity.
Oren had known that the fog Erol derived from Everdream's fog, but this… an eerily cold smile played on his lips.
Whilst the fog Erol had blurred his vision, he could still sense things and see the vague shapes of objects.
Here, no matter the location, beginning or end, or wherever he was now, he could not see at all, as though all of his senses had been disabled.
Because of this, it made it so Oren had to rely on Selvar for guidance. Oren waited for a moment, then asked in a dark tone.
"What do you see?"
"Nothing. This part of the fog is one of the denser areas of the wall. Even if we walked north or west, it would be the same."
He sighed.
"Across the wall of fog, there are many places like this… but this place specifically, for some reason, is the most cruel and unforgiving, an area where most fail to escape."
Afterward, he stayed silent for a while. When he spoke, it was as though he was reminiscing.
"The heart of the veil, where the kings died, and the deceased were laid to rest. To our luck, we passed it without any storms."
Oren forced a gulp.
'Wait, this is not already a storm?'
Uneasily, he looked into the distance with a somewhat uncomfortable expression, then relaxed when the fog began to thin.
Surely, a storm would most likely be a disaster within the already catastrophic, misty, ice-covered area, and if an Enlightened was worried, then it was something a mere mundane being like him should fear the most.
After all, Enlightened were not weak.
They were strong, but there were limits to that strength, just as there were limits to mundane humans.
Though their bodies remained human, it was as though they had stepped beyond them, no longer bound in the same way.
Instead, their perception could be honed, just as their skill in battle could. Bestowed with the ability to feel the world's currents.
But their was much more. Since Oren could not become Enlightened, he had never learnt more than the basics. Now he wondered if he should have.
"Hm…" Selvar pondered for a while, then asked in an easy-going tone, "You know, Xeyren, I had never been planning to come to Everdream. Actually, if I never came across you, I do not know what I would have done."
"At least you know now. One way or another, you would have eventually returned to the fog… but do you really think a battle caused this wretched fog?"
Quietly, the thought of how the fog was born into existence plagued his mind.
"Is it an—"
"It is not an Erol. It is not a natural occurrence either… I was born alone on the outer edges of the fog, bordering Everdream.
I do not know what caused it.
The fog itself is a myth, like the old stories told about things that should not exist. Most myths are not meant to be real."
He glanced back at Oren and smiled.
"All I know is that this is the burial ground for those who are dead, and those who wander too far into the mist."
Oren let out a deep breath.
So what he was most likely stepping on was a graveyard of those who fell trying to escape, and those who died of old age and were brought here by Everdream's people.
Naturally, it made sense. What better place to lay people to rest than in the centre of the fog, a warning for travellers, a reminder for leavers.
A perfect burial ground where, due to the freezing temperature, their bodies would be preserved, as would any expensive jewellery they carried.
"Wait a moment!" Oren's luminous golden eyes glistened with a thought as he asked.
"If you happen to find any Erols, or anything of worth, pick it up so we can sell it in Everdream… the more valuables we find, the easier the time we will have once we get there."
Selvar did not argue.
Because of their deal, he would most likely obey anything until Oren had done his part in helping him find the Erol.
Still, what Erol? Something that enhances sight and mind... Oren remained deep in thought as they finally entered the fringes of the fog.
Thinking about it, doing this, a small favour… it was like bringing two birds down with one stone, and that stone being death.
He could find the end to his path, whilst giving hope to another.
In truth, humans are mortals, everywhere, abundant like the grass in a field, and the leaves on a tree.
When grass dies, it returns to the soil and gives rise to new life. Leaves fall from branches, decompose, and become the beginning of another bud.
This was the analogy for Erols.
They are born from fragments of life, remnants left behind, inevitably tied to what they once were.
Whether arm or leg, hand or foot, nose or ear, appearance or something beyond the physical itself.
To create one, something equivalent must be given in return.
But this time, it would be different. Because enraging the people of Everdream was not of benefit at the moment.
'Animals will have to do.'
Then again, the whole concept of using animals to birth Erols was unfamiliar.
'Tssk, how difficult can it be?'
He considered it for a while, then looked into the distance, in the direction of the thread.
Selvar would most likely ask questions about this when resting in Everdream.
For a moment, the world felt unfinished, as if it had been torn and poorly stitched back together.
Just like the mist of the fog Erol, at its end, it distorted and shifted, like a gap between something and nothing, revealing the outside world.
He could see the weathered, paved stones dulled by a dark red.
He did not give it a second thought. He just knew that the stench was horrible.
Slowly, Oren's posture relaxed, looking at the still warped images in the distance, then turned behind him where the fog was absolute.
Ahead, Everdream's border was out there, in front of them, looming in the boundless darkness like a black monument.
They had finally escaped the fog.