Efrain barely managed to dodge backward as the claws exploded back into mist. The thing was gone, merging back into the. By this time, Innie had joined him, floods of sparks leaping into the air as she assumed a form closer to her true one.

“What is it?” she called to him.

“I don’t know, some kind of apparition. Maybe a wraith by the way it’s greeting us.”

“A wraith that takes form by mist?”

“Working theory until more evidence presents itself,” said Efrain testily as he looked around for any sign of the creature.

“Fine, then. Wraith. How do we stop it?” she said.

“Uh, that depends, such a creature would be bound by a relatively fragile hex. But it might be physically bound rather than-”

“This is not a time for a lecture!” she said as the mist began to pick up speed.

“Right. We need to find the matrix that is holding it together. That’ll either be a physical thing or within the creature itself.”

“Creature first then?” she said.

“Creature first,” he said grimly and reached out into the mist once more.

What he found was dismaying, to say the least. Torrents of angry, violent and chaotic currents of magic, coming together before explosively breaking apart.

“I can’t find it,” he said.

“So we just wait for it to attack us?”

“I’m open to other suggestions!”

Then the fog coalesced in front of him.

Efrain was glad he did not have bowels in that moment - a shrieking shifting face of fog had screamed again as its fury blanched through him. A great gout of flame issued from Innie as the thing charged, only disrupting it for a moment.

A tendril of mist came to slam against Efrain’s chest, sending him stumbling back. The mist battered him again and again, a vicious assault that he was sure would break his bones if not for the enchanted protection of his gear.

“Innie! Help?!”

The cat seemed to expand and shudder, as if taking in a tremendous inhale. At the last moment Efrain took a knee, suffering the blows to his head and neck as he knelt. The blast of hot air that ripped away the mist in a circle was practically refreshing, but Efrain had little time to revel in it.

Instead, he rose to his feet, looking at where a patch of squirming darkness violently pulsed in the air before him. Efrain reached for it, half physically, half magically, and plunged into the shadow.

The process of attempting to release whatever magic held the thing together was like fumbling around in the dark for a latch. In this case, however, the darkness was more like a swarm of bees whose hive you just jostled.

Chaos greeted him at every turn, the wild conjunctions of magic augmented a thousand-fold within the dark mass. Efrain could barely tell which way was up or down, let alone where the central nexus was.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Efrain wondered just what could this thing possibly be. It was a whirling ball of emotion, like a lightning storm condensed into the swirling fog. And oh, how this thing hated. If looks could kill, half the trees would’ve been withering right there along with the girl.

“Any day now Efrain!” Called Innie, sounding almost far away.

“I’m trying,” he called back, spying in his peripheral vision the mist beginning to draw in, as if attracted by a magnet, “there’s no nexus!”

“What do you mean ‘there’s no nexus’?!”

No matter where he searched or probed, her couldn’t find any central construction or binding principle. Magic had wrapped around his arm and rattled through his jaw with such fervour he genuinely thought his bones might break from it alone.

“Efrain!” Innie called out desperately.

Well, here goes nothing, Efrain thought as he responded by redirecting the flow of magic back into the thing, mixing it with his own for good measure. The thing twitched and twisted, and for a moment it appeared that nothing had changed.

Then the howls of rage bellowed into a great whooom as the fog exploded into the night, throwing Efrain unceremoniously back into a grave stone.

He lay arched over the stone, not exactly sure what had just happened, but reasonably certain he just shaved off some of his spinous processes. For the first time in quite a while, Efrain felt physically fatigued, something he would have to stave off until his capacity could build up again.

“Efrain?” said Innie, coming from somewhere beneath him. She sounded almost genuinely concerned.

“Yes, yes, I’m alive,” he said, slowing bringing himself back up to see what damage had been caused. It was fairly difficult to tell, what with everything covered with the cast off dirt. Most of the stones still seemed to be standing, but the biggest change was that the fog seemed to be completely gone.

“Ow,” Efrain complained as he stood up and stretched. It appeared that his garments had absorbed most of the impact, fulfilling their function well enough. Efrain turned to look at the girl, who also was covered with snow.

“Well, our work here is done,” he said judicially, and turned back to the cliff side.

“Efrain,” said Innie, exasperation and warning in equal measure.

“Oh no, no, no-” he managed to get out as he watched Innie begin to pad over to the stunned girl.

Then a call came from the far side of the clearing, and Efrain froze. Dozens of thoughts raced through his head, all of the hoping against hope that he wouldn’t have to turn around and-

“Hey!” came a voice, accompanied by rapid crunching through the frosty grass.

Efrain, resigned to the fact he couldn’t simply run away through the trees, turned around and brushed himself off. Well, time to turn lead into gold, somehow, Efrain thought as he watched the man trudge through the snow toward him. The older man, bearded and covered with furs, and carrying a iron hand-adze, looked quite a bit more nervous than his shouting would imply.

“What’re you doing?” he shouted to Efrain.

Efrain was about to explain some made-up facsimile about what happened when the girl popped up from her place from the grave.

“Master Giyeth!” she said, running over and behind the larger man, “t-there was a monster, in the fog, and he, that man, he scared it away.”

Efrain looked at Innie, who looked back at him and shook her fur in a way that indicated a shrug. Well, better go with it, he thought as he clasped his hands and stood a little taller.

“Yes, well,” he began, the words halting and awkward, “I trust that you aren’t hurt, child?”

She shuffled out from behind the bearded man and nodded hesitantly.

“Good. Good. It’s… good I was in the area, I mean, passing by when this happened,” he said, painfully aware of how long it had been since he had talked to another person, “I suppose I shall be taking my leave.”

As he began to turn away, the man, Giyeth, called out to him again.

“You ain’t with the church, are you?”

Efrain paused, noting the apprehension in his voice.

“And why would you ask that?” he said, alarm beginning to creep into his heart.

“Well, there was a lot of them here, in the village, I mean. Whole precession. Knights and all.”

Oh. Oh that can’t be good, Efrain thought as he turned back.

“And are they still here?” he said, sharing a look with Innialysia.

“I dunno. My shop’s out of the way,” said the man.

“No, they’re gone,” said the girl, “and they took one of my friends.”

“Is that so?” he said, fingers tightening. It may be a risk to stay in the village, but the girl seemed to support his story, and their might be information as to why the church was this far north.

“On second thought,” Efrain continued slowly, “I might be overdue for a short respite from my travels. Would you mind me coming back with you to your village?”

Giyeth and the girl looked at each other, clearly reluctant. Efrain couldn’t say he blamed them, given his attire and the mysterious circumstance of his ‘intervention’.

“It would be good for me to examine the grounds, just in case. We don’t want more of those creatures popping up where nobody expects them,” he said, to hammer the point home.

The girl nodded, to which the man acquiesced, and Efrain both bemoaned and thanked the lack of prevalence of magical knowledge.

“Come on, we’ll take you there,” said Giyeth waving at him.

The small party walked through the surroundings woods, following a well trodden trail northward. Neither of the two seemed much for conversation, though Efrain did make an attempt.

“So master Giyeth, you mention to work a shop? What are you, a smith, a carver?”

“A wainwright. Waggons and carts and such, and, er… yourself, master…?”

“Efrain,” he said, then, in a flash of self-satisfaction, “Lord Efrain, if you’re in the mood for honorifics.”

Innie looked back at him with exasperation and disgust, to which Efrain had to try not to chuckle at.

“A lord, this far north? I thought all the lords were down south. Near that Angorrah and such.”

Efrain would’ve smiled at the linguistic confusion, justified as it was.

“You misunderstand me. I am not a ‘lord’ in terms of owning land,” he said, “I am a lord in the old way. The first way.”

The girl seemed not to understand what that meant, but the man noticeably flinched.

“You mean you’re… you’re a…” he said, breathlessly.

Efrain decided to let the confirmation hang in the air. Any man who understood the distinction was either a scholar, or a follower of older ways in the valley. As he suspected, the church’s grip wasn’t particularly strong here, but it would still be good to keep his cards close to his chest.

At last they broke through the tree lines and came out onto a cleared space. Some ways beyond stood a circle of houses, through which a central road passed through. Several other buildings dotted the mountain side, the grasses gently wavering in the sunset.

“Forgive my ignorance, but I don’t recall the name of such a village in this place,” Efrain said, wondering if he had enough ink in his bag to make a crude map. To his surprise, it was the girl who spoke up.

“It’s called Visaya,” she said.