Chapter 101: Vision in the Mist

Charon couldn’t breathe. Air didn’t exist where he was; the element was ripped from the fabric of reality and replaced with the existential dread of being unable to fill his lungs with oxygen. ’Is this how I’m going to die?’ The thought crossed his mind multiple times, yet the minutes dragged on, his body suffocating while his brain remained unaffected. An infinite mist surrounded him, blocking his view more than a few inches from his face. It caressed his skin, leaving damp marks all over. For the first hour, he had tried to figure out where he was, but the fog never ended. He walked, and walked, and walked, his chest burning with every step. He never found anything except more mist. Once he had given up, he fell to the ground, which felt like stone, yet he couldn’t see it to confirm. ’Where the hell did that crown take me?’ He knew from the moment he arrived that it was the artifact that brought him here, somehow activated by his drop of blood. Achlys and the Warden had even attempted to stop him, but they weren’t fast enough. ’It doesn’t matter now, I just need to find a way out!’ He racked his brain for hours on how to escape, but nothing came to him. He tried running to find the edge of the mist, fanning it away, even using his mana to try and summon the Zeta Colossus to help him. Nothing worked. He was just about to give up on escaping when everything changed. The mist dispersed, revealing a cobbled street flanked by stone buildings. Small tufts of grass peeked through the cracks in the road, flowers blooming here and there. Birds chirped, people chattered, and most delightfully, there was air to breathe. ’Thank the gods! Air! I never knew how much I took it for granted!’ He took large mouthfuls to satiate his voracious lungs, each inhalation pushing the burning sensation away. Charon staggered forward, greedily drawing in each breath as if it might vanish again. The street curved gently ahead, sunlight pooling in the dips between cobblestones. Warmth touched his skin for the first time in what felt like years, and with it came the faint and pleasant smell of baking bread. Somewhere close, a chimney sent a thin stream of smoke curling lazily into the blue sky, no clouds in sight. Shutters were open on nearly every building, painted in muted greens and blues, their hinges squeaking faintly in the breeze. A pair of children darted past him, a wooden hoop rolling between them as they laughed in uneven bursts. Their bare feet slapped lightly against the stones, leaving scuffed marks where dust had settled. A woman in a cream-colored apron stood at a market stall to his left, stacking apples into a wicker basket. She brushed one on her sleeve before passing it to a man with a card in his hand. He brought it to a scanner set on a crate near her, the item beeping before he thanked her and walked off. Behind her, neat rows of carrots and onions lay under a strip of white canvas shading them from the sun. Somewhere beyond the row of houses came the clear, steady ring of a blacksmith’s hammer. The sound traveled through the narrow street, finding its way between the murmurs of conversation and the clinking of glass bottles being set into more crates. The air was different here, thick with scents and sounds layered together. A faint perfume of blooming flowers drifted from both a window box above him and the street flowers around him, mixing with the sharper tang of freshly cut wood from a carpenter’s shop further down the lane. Yet for all the life on display, not a single passerby looked at him. Faces turned toward each other, toward the stalls, toward their own business, but never his way. It was as though he were walking unseen through a memory. ’Am I witnessing a vision? I have never seen any town like this before. It’s like a mix of modernity and medieval living.’ It was a clash of tones he wasn’t used to. Even the Fort was far more advanced, and that was antiquated by Charon’s standards. He took a step forward to see if more obvious movement would alert anyone, but no one noticed, continuing about their day as if he didn’t exist. Not even the sun acknowledged him, his shadow non-existent. Charon looked at it and tilted his head. ’I can’t affect the world around me, so no attempting to send a message. I hadn’t planned on it, but it would’ve been a nice avenue to consider.’ A bell rang loudly to his left. Turning to it, his eyes widened as he recognized the hourglass on the spire above it. ’Is this..?’ He took a second look around, focusing on the fine details that would stand the test of time. The town’s layout, the streets, the buildings, even the way the roofs were tiled, all led him to one conclusion. ’This is the dark town where we met Achlys!’ It should have been obvious from the outset. ’Duh! The crown was on an altar just outside this place. It would only make sense that they are connected somehow. Why is it using the mist, though? I thought that was Achlys’ thing?’ He brushed the questions away, realizing that if he were meant to find out, the vision would show him. The townsfolk began to migrate towards the temple after the echoing gongs, their belongings left sitting on the street or the nearest surface, as if theft were an impossibility in their minds. They gathered into groups, men, women, and children, all eagerly discussing this week’s "sermon." ’This must be the focal point of the vision. Whatever happened in that church must have changed things.’ Charon set off after them, assuming the pace of a happy family of three. He kept close to them while maintaining a respectful distance. ’Even if they can’t see me, I’d feel weird getting too close. These are probably dead people.’ The father was teasing their son about a girl he had a crush on, and the mother playfully swatted his arm in mock anger. Charon glanced away with a pang of jealousy. ’Must’ve been nice.’ It wasn’t a long walk to the entrance of the temple. Greeters stood on the stone steps leading to the wide open doors, their faces split in wide smiles as they welcomed every citizen who passed by name, sometimes sharing inside jokes or well wishes. He watched the same happen with his own "family" before they entered. A long string of pews led to a raised stage with a podium on it. An hourglass similar to the one on the spire was suspended from metal wires, hanging above the head of what Charon assumed to be the religious leader. He was wearing pale, wispy garments that covered him from top to bottom. His long white hair fell to the center of his back, matching the equally long beard. His bushy eyebrows were raised with his beaming smile. The man waved at most of the people who entered, the church-goers waving back. Charon found it hard to dislike the outgoing man, but that quickly made him distrustful, the knowledge of impending doom making it easy to find an excuse. ’This feels too convenient. A pleasant town with a charismatic leader who also leads the local cult?’ He used the word cult appropriately, Annie having referred to it as such earlier. ’The Cult of Relentless Passing. She said they vanished centuries ago, so this must have taken place way back then. Maybe the Animancers were still around then? Could this man have known them?’ If he were able to interact with his environment, he might have tried asking him. As it stood, all he could do was watch as everyone found his seat, Charon electing to stand in the aisle for a better view. ’It’s not like they will get after me for it.’ Once the final citizen sat, the leader nodded his head to a group of individuals standing in the back. They nodded back and pulled strings connected to curtains that dropped over the windows set into the wall. They dimmed the room, but didn’t banish all of the light, allowing the bare minimum in. With a deep breath, the religious man raised his arms to his sides and grinned, his gaze passing across his congregation. "Welcome, fellow worshippers. I am gladdened that we may celebrate our Goddess once more." He paused for dramatic effect. "Let us all come together in remembrance of the forgotten Goddess who stands beside Death, Achlys!"