Morning arrived like a whisper.
There was no glorious sunrise, no rays of sun piercing through the clouds. Simply, the gray sky became a little lighter.
The mist, which during the night had been a dense and suffocating presence, thinned until it became a translucent veil floating lazily at knee height.
For the first time since the attack began, Ash could see beyond a few meters.
The dirt road stretched out before them, skirting the precipice. The mountains rose to their left, imposing and silent. There were no signs of the night's creatures. As if they had never existed.
As if Kael had never existed.
Ash shook his head. He couldn't afford to think about that now.
"Move out!" the leader shouted from the front. "Keep your eyes open! The mist may be thinner, but that doesn't mean it's safe."
The seventeen survivors began to move.
The knights mounted their horses —those who still had horses, at least— and the mercenaries positioned themselves on the sides of the wagons. Ash took his place, walking beside the wooden wheels, the sword at his waist constantly reminding him of what had happened.
But he couldn't stop thinking.
He needed information. He needed to understand where he was, what these mountains were, what the goal of this Nightmare was. In the world of Shadow Slave, Nightmares weren't random.
They had a purpose. A trial. A challenge he had to overcome to Awaken. No trial was impossible; after all, the Nightmare Spell delivered judgments, not sentences.
And he had no idea what his was.
He looked ahead, searching for Dren. The scarred mercenary walked a few meters ahead, next to another survivor. Ash quickened his pace until he caught up.
"Dren."
The man turned his head. He looked at him with tired eyes, but said nothing. He just waited.
"Can I ask you a question?" Ash said.
"You already are."
Ash blinked, confused for a second. Then he nodded.
"You're right. What I want to know is... what exactly are the Misty Mountains?"
Dren raised an eyebrow. They walked in silence for a few seconds before he replied.
"That's what you want to know, huh?" he asked, and Ash nodded. "I don't know if this is the best time for history lessons, but I guess there's nothing better to do while we walk."
He shrugged and began to speak.
"No one really knows what these mountains are. Well, no one alive, at least. What we do know is that the mist wasn't always here. One day, a long time ago —centuries, some say— it appeared out of nowhere. It just... arrived. And it never left."
"No one tried to discover where it came from?" Ash asked.
"Of course they tried. Entire expeditions ventured into the mist looking for answers. Explorers, scholars, adventurers... even Awakened, those with abilities and all that. You know how many came back?"
Ash shook his head.
"None. Well, almost none. A couple of madmen showed up years later, completely insane, saying they had seen things. Things that shouldn't exist. Things that..." —Dren paused, and his expression darkened— "Well, it doesn't matter. The point is, the mist stayed, and with it came the creatures."
"The Spawn," Ash said.
"Spawn, yeah. That's what some call them. Also mist beasts, specters, shadows... everyone gives them their own name. But they're all the same: they come out of the mist, kill everything they find, and when the mist retreats, they disappear with it."
Ash nodded, processing the information.
"And last night... those were the weak ones?"
Dren let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"Weak? No, kid. Those were younglings. Cubs. The true beasts of the mist... if you ever see them, no lamp will save you. No sword will protect you. All you can do is run, and pray the mist loses you before they find you."
Ash felt a chill run down his spine.
"So... we were lucky?"
"Lucky, yeah. Or maybe they were just testing us. Seeing if it was worth sending something bigger."
Dren looked him directly in the eyes.
"Listen, kid. Last night you killed one. That's good. But don't get overconfident. The Misty Mountains don't forgive arrogance. And they don't forgive weakness either. If you want to get out of here alive, you have to learn fast. And you have to learn well."
"I will," Ash said, with more firmness than he felt.
Dren nodded, satisfied, and moved ahead to rejoin the other mercenaries.
Ash slowed his pace, letting the caravan continue while he hung back, thinking.
The creatures last night were the weak ones, he reflected. The younglings. And they still killed eight people.
Eight people. Eight lives. One of them, a seventeen-year-old kid who only wanted to help him.
Ash clenched his fists.
But he couldn't get distracted. He needed more information. He needed to understand what the goal of this Nightmare was. In the novels he had read —and written— Nightmares always had a purpose. A central challenge. A trial that had to be overcome to Awaken.
What was his?
Survive the Misty Mountains? Reach the main camp with the supplies? Or was there something more? Something he hadn't seen yet.
He walked in silence, his mind working at full speed. He remembered his Aspect: Apparition. An instinctive intuition towards where he should go. Was that a clue? Did the Nightmare want him to follow that intuition? To trust it?
But, towards where?
He looked around. The road continued skirting the precipice. The mountains rose implacably. The mist floated meekly at his feet.
And then he felt it.
That sensation. The same one he'd had when the mist first touched him. The same one he'd felt during the night, when something watched him from the darkness.
Someone was watching him.
Ash stopped. His hand instinctively went to his sword's hilt. His eyes scanned the landscape: the road ahead, the precipice to the right, the mountains to the left, the mist...
Nothing.
There was nothing.
But the sensation persisted. A presence. A weight in the air. As if the mist itself had eyes, and those eyes were fixed on him.
"Hey, kid?" the voice of one of the mercenaries snapped him out of his trance. "Something wrong?"
Ash blinked. He looked at the man, a young mercenary, barely a few years older than him.
"No," he said. "No, it's fine. Just... thinking."
The mercenary looked at him strangely, but said nothing. He just shrugged and kept walking.
Ash followed suit. But he didn't stop feeling that gaze. That presence. That something watching him from the mist.
And as he walked, he couldn't help but wonder: what was it? A creature? A larger, more powerful Spawn, waiting for the right moment to attack?
Or was it something else?
Something related to his arrival in this world.
Something related to the mist that had brought him here.
The Void recognizes you as one of its own.
The attribute. Child of the Void.
What did it really mean?
Ash kept walking. The caravan advanced slowly but steadily. The gray sky remained gray. The mist remained mist.
The morning passed without incident.
The road became narrower in some stretches, forcing the caravan to slow down. In others, it widened enough for two wagons to advance side by side.
But always, always, the precipice was there. Always, always, the mist accompanied them.
Ash used the time to observe his companions. The knights were the best equipped, with metal armor and quality weapons.
The mercenaries were more varied: some carried swords, others axes, others bows. Most had the look of people who had spent their entire lives fighting.
And then there were the wagon drivers. Common people. People who didn't know how to fight. People who depended on the guards to survive.
Like him.
Eight dead. Eight people who were no longer there. And among the survivors, the tension was palpable. No one spoke more than necessary. No one laughed. No one joked.
They just walked in tense silence.
Ash knew he couldn't afford that fear. Fear had killed Kael. Fear had paralyzed him. If it happened again, he wouldn't survive.
He had to be stronger. He had to learn. He had to...
The sensation returned.
That gaze. That presence.
Ash turned his head sharply, searching through the mist.
Nothing.
But it was there. He knew it. He felt it.
Something was following him. Something he couldn't see but could feel. He could feel an analytical gaze, as if he were being analyzed layer by layer. Ash felt a chill on his back.
For now, he could only wait until he found a way out of his first nightmare.