A Light in the Fog
Cool, soft pavement soothed my callused feet as I wandered the empty streets of Ahawai. A stray sharp pebble bit at me, snapping me out of my stupor.
“Gods!” I cursed. “I left my boots at Manaha’s. Well, we’re certainly not going back there.”
“Hurts?” Ithreniya asked.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just steal some new boots and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Hurts?” She insisted. “Lonely?”
“Why would I be lonely? I have you two of you. All I need!” But the sting of another town rejecting me lingered. Fighting for my life, avoiding the threat of Templars, and suffering the scorn of having Atorian blood was exhausting. Try as I might, some things I just couldn’t hide from Ithy.
“Don’t feel bad, Yohei,” said Vyxtarion. “The approval of lesser beings possesses little meaning. You are called to a higher purpose. No need to concern yourself with the chattel.”
“Thanks, Vyx. I feel much better now. Let’s focus on something else, shall we?”
“Hurts.” Ithreniya settled to rest on the top my head. “I’m sorry.”
“I already said—” I stopped and sighed, fighting back a smile. “Thanks, Ithy. I mean it.”
I stopped before a crossroads, judging which route to take. Rorian and I had passed some stores as we walked through Ahawai, closer to the shoreline. I was in need of new footwear, and from the lightness of my stomach, some sustenance as well. But there was something about the peak of the hill that intrigued me. The emptiness and stillness of it during daylight was unnerving.
Necessities first, I figured. “Here’s what I’m thinking, friends. Boots. Food. And a boat. Then we sail away from Akinalili and resume our search further south. There are still some territories even the Free Nations haven’t fully reclaimed.”
“Ahawai? Rescue?”
“Whatever’s plaguing this town is none of our business. But I can’t deny the fog here seems derived from the Pale Water. What do you think, Vyx?”
“The Pale Water is perhaps the most multiform of all the Primordial Elements. Practitioners manifest it most commonly as simply water, but it can be contrived into snow, steam, ice, and of course—fog. The presence of those wraiths makes me wonder if a particularly adept Underworlder has mastered the usage of the Pale Water and holds dominion over its lesser kin.”
“Let’s hope it’s simply that, and not a shaman gone wrong. Then this would become our business.”
“Unlikely. An Atorian would have treated us as guests of honor, not troublesome vagrants. I would welcome it, besides. I always enjoy meeting my cousins.”
“Rescue,” repeated Ithreniya. “Rescue!”
“You feel that strongly? Let’s put it to a vote, then. Find a boat and be on our way, free of this dismal town, or linger and waste time solving someone else’s problem. What do we think?”
“Rescue!”
“Boat,” voted Vyxtarion.
“I’m with Vyx on this one. Majority decides. Sorry, Ithy.”
She pouted, but didn’t protest any further and continued to rest on my head, while Vyxtarion wriggled about, full of energy after our exhilarating battle. The docks had an abundance of boats for me to steal, as I recalled, and there were plenty of stores nearby to loot as well, so I headed to the coast with renewed optimism. Though it was dark out, it wasn’t that late, far from the dead of night. Yet the streets were entirely empty, even emptier than before. Ahawai felt suffused with stoic pain. Even during my childhood, being relegated to the periphery of society and forced to hide from constant threats, I had still known joy. Several shadowed, indistinct figures pulled their blinds and turned off their lights as I passed by their homes. The citizens may well have already been ghosts for their lack of vitality.
Above, masked by the fog, more dreamwraiths traced my path, but I felt in no danger. They had proven themselves to not be a threat. Neither did the police, though a couple times I spotted the dimmed lights of a cop car tailing me, and heard the low rumble of its engine echo through the desolate streets.
It took some time to find the commercial district, but I eventually weaved my way there and found, among a few other shops: a fishing store, supermarket, salon, a few restaurants, a home goods store, an electronics store, a cafe—nothing atypical for a small town like this.
A general retailer, Ahawai Central, called to me. Bright electronic lights drew my attention away from the darkness, showcasing a wide variety of goods begging to be stolen. The front doors were locked, so I smashed through the glass with the hilt of my dagger, setting off a loud, blaring alarm. Shards of the glass door sliced my wrists and forearms, and I winced from the stinging pain, but Ithreniya rushed to produce her fire and soon enough my flesh was mending itself.
Entire shelves were of food were bare. Some of the produce looked wilted, even on the verge of going rotten. I triple-checked a red apple, cautiously biting into it.
“Yum!” tittered Ithreniya.
“You like that? Let’s load up on some food.”
“Eat a melon next,” encouraged Vyxtarion. “The sweetness shall be refreshing for me.”
I wandered the produce aisles, sampling the wares, picking my fruits carefully, wrinkling my nose at a few rotten options. Ithreniya and Vyxtarion enjoyed the tastings; our psychic connection meant we could share bodily sensations as well, should we elect to do so. A couple of aisles over, I grabbed some packs of nuts, dried fruit, and bread for my backpack. I needed nourishing food that could last me days of travel.
The clothing section was sparse, mainly featuring functional, everyday wear, which suited me just fine. I laid out a slice of watermelon on a low bench to occupy Ithreniya and Vyxtarion while I perused. They descended on the fruit like vultures on carrion. My cargo pants and black polyester long sleeve stank, I knew, but they were practical and still useful to me, so I simply picked out a new pair of sturdy black boots. As I settled on the bench to put them on, Ithreniya startled.
“Stranger!” She flew up towards the ceiling to get a better view, Vyxtarion trailing.
“Someone there?” I shouted. The store’s alarm was still wailing, masking the sound of approaching footsteps. Thankfully, my friends were tapped into the Thoughtweave and could hear thoughts like a spider feels a tug at the edge of its web.
“Just one human,” said Vyxtarion. He and Ithreniya descended and hovered nearby. “A boy.”
“If he wants a fight, I’ll give it to him.” I shrugged. “They just keep coming, don’t they?”
“Harmless,” suggested Ithreniya. “Friendly.”
“Well, that’s good.” I pulled my new boots on snug and strapped them in. Then I began fishing through my backpack. “Let’s leave something as a trade for what I took. But I don’t exactly have a lot of money.”
I didn’t want to use my Akina dala, the local currency, if I didn’t have to. I did have some Rennian bills, which traded favorably in the Free Nations, but I liked to keep cash on my person for important circumstances, like bribing local officials or law enforcement. Besides, I hadn’t exactly been keeping a tally of everything I'd taken. So a trade it was going to be.
In my backpack I had: various bills and coins; my dagger, my most valuable possession, ancient technology older than even Renne; Atorian charms crafted by Mama, obviously not to be traded; cleansing salt, which to the untrained eye looked like normal salt; food; one iron cooking pan; my journals and writing utensils; a blanket; a few changes of clothing; and a thermos with water.
Everything was essential and there nothing I could give away. I continued digging around until I felt it, the one thing of value I could afford to part with, and pulled it out of the pack.
“Not that,” groaned Vyxtarion. “I was looking forward to experiencing that. Don’t you have anything else you could trade?”
“It’s a shame, but I think we’re just going to have to make do. I’ll leave it by one of the registers.”
“Hello!” A voice called out, fighting against the alarm. “Yohei? Are you in here?”
I clutched the plastic baggie, careful not to crush the contents within, and strode towards the noise.
A young man jerked in surprise when he saw me, despite calling my name and clearly being on the search. In one hand he carried an unlit lantern, despite the store being awash in harsh fluorescent lighting.
“It’s you!” He stammered.
He was a bit younger than me, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, barely a man. Short, with thin arms too long for his small frame. He had thick, expressive eyebrows that framed his current wide-eyed expression. I wasn’t a huge fan of how he was gawking at me.
“Are you security for this store?” I shouted so he could hear me over the alarm. “I’m going to leave something as a trade. I can’t afford everything that I took.”
“What? Security? Oh, no, no, no. I don’t work here.”
“Then don’t hold me up.” I stepped past him and headed for the registers.
“Wait, wait!” He trailed after me. “I need your help, sis. We need your help!”
“And who are you?”
“Name’s Kimo. Heard about what you did to the officers and wraiths—that’s eternal, cuz!” He held up his phone. “I listen to the police scanners. That’s how I found you here. They’ve been tracking you!”
“I know. Let them. Unless a Templar is after my head, I’m not worried.”
“Man, I wish we had some Tempies fly down. That’d be real sheen.” He held up his hands after catching my snort of disapproval. “I mean, not like I’m a fan of ‘em anything! We just need the firepower, hear?”
“Look, I get it. You want me to fight whatever is controlling this town. You heard about my power and coveted its use.” I found a checkout stand and placed the small plastic bag in a visible location. Inside, finely textured golden dried mushrooms waited patiently. Vyxtarion muttered some words of disapproval.
Kimo’s eyes bulged. “Golden Sensei shrooms! That’s eternal, cuz! Hey, wait!” He scampered after me. “You’re the only one who can fight the wraiths. We can’t even touch them. People are dead, Yohei. You have to help us!”
“I can’t solve all the world’s problems,” I spat back, more bitterly than I’d intended. When my people were dying, where was our help? I furrowed my brow and exited the store, stepping back into the shroud of fog and darkness of night.
“Wait, sis, not the fog!” He held up his lantern. Golden light erupted from its socket, vaporizing the fog, clearing a blockwide half-sphere of air—devoid of even the slightest trace of mist. A dreamwraith caught lurking above the store hissed and retreated higher into the sky.
“Hey!” Ithreniya drew closer to Kimo’s lantern, fluttering around it. Even I felt the presence of familiar magic.
I grabbed his arm. “What is that? How did you do that?”
“Let go, sis!” He struggled against my grip. “Shouldn’t you know? I mean, one of your familiars is a golden butterfly.”
I gasped. “You can see them?”
Kimo wriggled away as my grip loosened, rubbing his arm. “I can, cuz! Shocked me too, for real. I ain’t ever met an Atorian. No Children of the Titans, either. You feel me?”
“A human of his nature can see through our glimmer? Impossible!” Vyxtarion tensed, as if readying for battle.
“Friend?” chittered Ithreniya. “Friend?”
I studied him for a second time. He had an uninspiring, forgettable presence. But for a simple human to see past my guardians’ glimmer—that was no small feat. “What do you want, Kimo? You said you needed my help.”
He took a deep breath and nodded, sensing the shift in my demeanor. “I got a plan, sis. And you just weighed the balance heavily in our favor. You see, I heard Atorians are dangerous killers, dedicated to bringing chaos and destruction.”
“Is that what you think of me?” I stiffened, crossing my arms. “That I’m some killer?”
“Shit, you better be. I need you to kill Mayor Kaneha, cuz.” He threw up his hands, bewildered. “I mean, for a second time. ‘Cuz he died once already!”