Chapter 93: Strange Fog

The Dead Lands had no birds. That was the first thing Charon noticed when they made camp that night. No distant chirps, no flapping wings overhead. Not even the occasional screech of a hawk. The silence was so total that every movement seemed ten times louder. The wind whistled through the withered trees like a dying breath, brushing against their makeshift tent. Each gust sent dust swirling through the camp, coating their cloaks in a thin gray film. The fire, shielded by Darius’ new life magic, burned low and carefully, but even that couldn’t shake the cold that clung to their bones. They hadn’t intended to stop, but the weariness beat out their fear. Charon sat near the edge of the camp. One of his skeletons paced just outside the glow, his sword and shield held aloft. The quiet thuds of his bony feet were comforting, reminding him that danger wasn’t quite there. Annie was writing in a notebook, seated beside Red, who had her hood pulled low and her eyes closed. Liam snored lightly a few feet away, stretched across a rock like a man who’d never heard of discomfort. ’Lucky bastard. How the hell can he sleep at a time like this?’ Charon knew it would be smart to join him, to preserve his energy should the worst happen, but he was unable to. Compared to everyone else, the land was less terrifying to him, yet their fear brushed off on him. Part of him felt comforted, even, by the security of the repetition. Black and gray, gray and black. That is all the Dead Lands offered. Emerius was sharpening one of his blades with slow, deliberate strokes. The sound was crisp in the stillness. He was using a whetstone Darius produced from a satchel, along with some advice about "being prepared." And Darius, as always, was watching. Not the trees, not the camp, them. His gaze wandered from person to person like he was measuring some invisible scale. Charon didn’t like that. He leaned back and stared up at the sky. Clouds drifted sluggishly across the inky darkness, but something felt off. Despite how much he hated the perpetual day, to have it change so suddenly... it was unnerving. His hand unconsciously tightened around the handle of his knife. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the forest was watching them back. They rose only a few hours later, at least that’s what Charon counted. He couldn’t be sure. No one needed to be woken. Sleep came sparingly, filled with twisted dreams that faded too quickly to remember. Charon walked with his summons in a wide arc around the group, scanning the perimeter. Every tree looked the same. The same gnarled bark. The same petrified branches. Occasionally, he thought he saw a figure in the distance, only for it to vanish upon closer inspection. No one talked much. Even Liam had gone quiet, his usual bravado dulled by the silence pressing in from all sides. Annie kept glancing back over her shoulder. When Charon asked her why, she just shook her head. "I feel like we’re being followed." She wasn’t alone. By midday, the trees thinned, opening into a clearing littered with what looked like blackened stones. It wasn’t until they got closer that Charon realized they were foundations. They had carvings etched into them at odd intervals, creating what should have been elegant runes, but instead looked to be jagged cuts. Like they were made by a professional madman. ’A village?’ Charon stepped lightly through the remains, each crunch underfoot echoing far too loudly. He bent down and brushed away some dust from a stone and found a symbol carved into it a sunburst, half-eroded. Annie spoke from behind him, a small sheet of paper in her hand. She kept glancing down at it, her brow perpetually furrowed. "It’s not on the map." Darius shot back, his voice tense. "None of this is." Charon looked up. Something shimmered at the edge of his vision, a flicker, like heat rising off stone. He turned sharply, but nothing was there. Emerius raised his swords. "We should not linger." No one disagreed. They didn’t speak of the village again. Not when they left it behind, not when the trees grew even darker, not when the ground started to slope downward. No one wanted to remember what they were seeing. It was as if they had witnessed something forbidden. That night, he couldn’t sleep. Instead, he sat with Emerius, both of them keeping watch while the others rested. The fire burned low, barely enough to see by, but neither of them minded. Charon looked over at the other boy. He was staring into the dark, not blinking. "You alright?" Emerius nodded, but it was stiff. "I do not like this place." Charon almost laughed. "You could have fooled me." Emerius exhaled sharply, his legs crossed a little too close to his body to appear comfortable. His forehead had droplets of sweat that refused to fall, and his blue eyes darted around. "This place looks like it is of Death, but I feel none of his power here, as if he were carved out. It is not right." That made Charon glance sideways. "What does it feel like?" "Hollow. Like something scraped all the death away, and left the shell behind." Charon let that settle. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The wind stirred the trees again, and he swore he heard a voice in it. Faint, high-pitched, like a girl who was unsure if she were a child or an elderly woman. Not speaking, nor singing. Just present, watching. His dagger never left his grip the rest of the night. The third day brought fog. It crept in slowly, crawling between the trees, curling around their legs and boots. By the time it set in, they couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead. The skeletons walked like shadows, their bones barely visible beyond the mist. Charon muttered under his breath. "I hate this." The others hated it too. Annie suggested they tie a rope between them to avoid getting separated. Liam laughed at the idea until he nearly vanished, walking too far ahead. It was as if he were with them one moment, they gone the next. His disappearance instantly set off alarms, the rest of them moving closer together. Minutes passed in petrified silence before the brute wandered back towards them, his waraxe raised to strike. "Oh, thank the gods, where did ya guys run off to?" Annie frowned. "Us?" Liam lowered his axe and titled his head. "Yeah, you! I was two steps ahead, then I turned around to see yall ran off! I’ve been walking to find where ya went!" Her frown deepend. "The moment we lost sight of you, we stopped. We haven’t moved since." Liam tightened up. "That’s impossible, I’ve been moving back the way I we all came! Yall had to have moved!" They moved slower, paranoia setting in as they realized even the fog wasn’t normal. Their eyes darted at every shape that might be a monster, every shift in the must that could be something worse. At one point, Darius raised a hand. Everyone froze. He pointed forward. Charon squinted. A figure stood in the mist. Still. Silent. Alone. Charon stepped forward, his dagger lowered. H e called out. "Hello?" No response. Another step. The fog shifted. The figure was gone. Emerius was next to him instantly, blades drawn. Charon exhaled slowly. "We need to move." They didn’t stop until sunset. Camp that night was tense. No one slept well. Annie kept muttering something under her breath about forgotten places. Darius kept one hand on his sword the entire time. Red refused to close her eyes, having not spoken a single word for days now. Charon sat near the edge again. Staring out into the fog. A streak of red lightning would occasionally illuminate his surroundings. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Dead Lands were bleeding into the world. If this was what the beginning of the end looked like. The Warden had grown quiet as the days passed, either from being ignored too often or from Charon being too unwilling to set off alone to "explore." He didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. The wind picked up again, and something rustled in the trees. He turned to look, but nothing was there. Not that it mattered. Charon was swiftly learning that rules didn’t apply to the Dead Lands.