It had been two long days since the village had burned. Two long days since Elvira faded away like a dying star in front of his eyes.
The memory clung to him like smoke, haunting him as the days went on.
But he had only one goal now.
To attend the academy.
Yet fate had other plans in store for the travelling trio.
The deeper they walked the more confused Vergil became.
Roots sprouted from the earth's crust like skeletal hands, curling around the many paths — some led to a cliff, others to dead ends.
'And that mist—goddamn, the mist.' Vergil cursed. It clung to the ground like a curse, distorting and swallowing his vision. Every step felt like it didn't want them there.
And then the map. Vergil held it with confidence as if he knew exactly what he was doing. His eyes narrowed and his posture was firm.
But the truth was painfully simple.
He had absolutely no idea how to read it.
