10.

The residents of the lighthouse

“Welcome back, little eavesdropper.”

The owl’s voice was melodious, and so deep it almost bellowed. It was as if a large man was beside him, not a bird.

Dominic studied him. His mana felt something like fire—like smoke. It was calm and didn’t crackle, but it burned hot and dense, almost as if molten blades had been molded around his feathers. The heat fizzled off his aura, flaked into embers, and mixed perfectly with the light, ashen scent that emanated from the fog.

If anyone could tell Dominic what was going on, it was probably this owl.

He glanced over at Dominic.

“You already know where to go?” he asked.

He had continued trudging down the beach in one direction without any guidance since he’d picked up Silas. He nodded. The scent of paper was coming from over there.

The owl regarded him with his crystalline eyes.

“Not bad, Dominic.”

He was a bit startled that the owl already knew his name.

“Call me Midi,” the owl said, not bothering to explain himself.

“What should I call the other resident?” Dominic asked.

Midi paused, then chuckled to himself.

“I knew you were nosy, but this is a little impressive,” he commented. “The other resident is Caspar.”

He’d realized once he’d arrived that there were actually two mana signatures on the beach. One was obviously Midi—dense and imposing—and the other, mixed in with the other vague scents in the distance, was light, almost cloud-like. A bit like the spray off ocean waves. The mana melted into the fog almost as well as Midi’s, but in a different way. One was smoke, and one was water vapor.

It was easy to parse the scents that hovered around the beach as they neared. There was paper mixed with low flames and something that smelled suspiciously like cooking oil. A sweep of cold, wet stone and water intermittently blew in, disrupting the flow, and then it would slowly leak out again—returning to wood and warmth and lamplight. It was a weightless scent, and woven in with the mana was the sound of someone humming.

Any moment now, he expected to see it. They continued to cross the shore in silence, waves crashing in the background and swirling across the rocks as if to reach for their feet.

Finally, out of the fog ahead, a spire rose. It seemed to have grown from the shore itself—its dark grey sides ridged and grooved like the bark of a gigantic tree. Windows opened up from knots in its seemingly impenetrable walls, inside of which lanterns glowed yellow and orange. A black stone pier jutted out into the water, its end disappearing somewhere inside the fog. A light burned and flared at the top, obscured by the haze. It was a lighthouse, so wide that even as he approached, it couldn’t be seen all at once.

The presence like water inside began moving, having sensed their arrival. The wooden door swung open, a boy a bit younger than Dominic greeting them with a frantic expression.

“What’s this?” Caspar said, glancing quickly between Dominic and Midi, his gaze landing on Silas. “Is he hurt? Come inside.”

He held the door open for them. Dominic stepped over the threshold, then froze in his tracks.

Paper. Paper and wood and varnish and paint. It hit his nose like the warm wind from an open oven. He realized, as his gaze traveled upwards, that the inside of the lighthouse tower was one gigantic library. The walls were shelves that rose stories high, so far into the upper levels that Dominic could no longer make them out. Staircases wound into the heights along them, spiraling into darkness, the only light being the telltale pinpricks of lanterns floating through the air. This was where all those scents had been coming from. They radiated off the books like heat.

“Come with me,” Caspar said, pushing him in, not noticing Dominic’s surprise. “We can set him down over here.”

Dominic put aside his questions and followed behind the boy into a vacant room. He carefully placed Silas on the bed, the demon’s limp form settling into the mattress.

“Midi, what do we do?” Caspar asked. “This is the first time we’ve had guests, and this one—”

“There’s no need to worry so much,” the owl replied calmly. “He’s only asleep.”

Caspar paused, then let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright,” he said. He turned to Dominic. “What about you? Didn’t you come through the fog? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“He’s the one I mentioned,” Midi added. “He’ll be alright.”

Caspar seemed to take a moment to fully let the thought register before his expression brightened unexpectedly.

“Really?” he replied. “Ah! Then, you must have a lot to talk about. You should go ahead. I’ll watch over this one in case he wakes up. Lunch is on the table in the kitchen. What’s this one’s name?”

He gestured towards the unconscious demon.

“Silas,” Dominic replied.

“Okay!”

Caspar pulled out a chair beside the bed enthusiastically and sat, completely contrary to his worried demeanor from earlier. Midi tapped Dominic’s shoulder with a talon to get his attention. The two of them left in the room, returning to the tower.

“Is something the matter?” Midi asked once the door had shut behind them.

“No.”

“You don’t seem to like Caspar very much.”

Dominic pursed his lips.

“It’s not a matter of liking,” he replied.

“He’s not easy for you to read,” Midi presumed.

The owl looked down at him, slightly amused.

“Nosy people hate not knowing.”

Dominic didn’t bother refuting it. Midi left his shoulder and glided down to a table inside a cove in the shelves.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing towards a couch beside him with his wing. “I’m sure you have a lot to ask me.”

Dominic took a seat. He took a moment to turn over a few thoughts in his head.

“Tell me what’s going on between Vaine and Hesia,” he said, getting right to the point.

Ships from Vaine, including the one he’d come on, regularly sailed through waters where Hesia was supposed to be—but nobody had ever realized there was land. There had to be something else at play besides the fog.

“Sure,” Midi replied.

A scroll edged its way out of a shelf behind him, floated towards the table, and a map unfurled itself under his talons.

“Are you familiar with this already?”

In the center of the parchment, a mountain-shaped continent was drawn. Arcing around it was the larger outline of Vaine.

“Familiar enough,” Dominic replied.

“Then the explanation will be easy.”

Midi tapped a claw on the paper. His mana gathered, forming a glowing red dome around the depiction of Hesia.

“There’s a barrier in the way,” he said.

“Wouldn’t ships have bumped into it?” Dominic asked.

“It’s possible to make one that will just spit you out onto the other side. Besides, I’m sure that area of ocean isn’t known for being particularly safe.”

He couldn’t refute that. The ship he’d been on, part of the Ashan Southern Survey, had actually been among a fleet that was sent out to assess the currents and possible dangers for ocean trade and travel routes. They had always been hard to predict, and perhaps this was the reason. Something in the middle was interfering with them.

Dominic stared at the red dome Midi had made over the map.

“It goes all the way around the entire continent?” he asked.

The owl nodded.

“How is that possible?”

A barrier of that size would require an unfathomable amount of manpower and mana to set up and implement. And to make it last for such a long period of time without breaking was an even more unimaginable feat.

“It was possible once,” Midi answered. “Not anymore.”

“Did they use up something to complete it?” he asked, thinking the resources required had simply been depleted.

“Ha.”

The owl laughed dryly to himself.

“The last of the gods’ grace, maybe?”

His mana flickered and popped like lava. Dominic wanted to press for what he meant, but wasn’t sure it’d be worth risking considering the owl’s suddenly worsening mood. The one at a disadvantage here was him. Midi noticed his hesitance.

“Humans used to be a lot stronger than they are now,” he explained. “Let’s just put it like that. There didn’t used to be such a difference between them and demons.”

“How long ago was that?” Dominic asked.

“You’ll have to ask somebody outside for an exact number,” the owl answered. “It’s hard to keep track of time in here. I think it’s been maybe just about a thousand years.”

That was the same amount of time Thelo had mentioned they had been blocked out of the ocean by the fog. Dominic’s frown deepened. He traced it back in his head.

“That’s around the Fall of Nations,” he commented.

The owl shrugged.

“That’s what happens when people put their hands on things they shouldn’t touch.”

The Fall of Nations marked the beginning of the Dark Ages. It coincided with the barrier going up, the fog appearing, and, according to Midi, the time that humans lost their ability to compete with demons.

“Why was the barrier made?” Dominic asked. “It doesn’t seem beneficial to anyone.”

“War strips people of reason.” Midi was calm in his reply. “A bunch of humans decided they hated demons and their grotesque horns and strangely colored skin, and fought a hundred-year war over it.”

He waved his wing, his red mana spreading on the map, covering Vaine, slowly crawling closer to the dome he had created like tiny daggers.

“Most demons fled to Hesia since the king and many of the nobles were demons,” he explained. “Then one day that fickle group of humans got sick of fighting, and just shut this place away.”

The barrier on the map flared violently red. Dominic stared at it.

“What ‘group’ was that?” he asked.

“They called themselves the Ashan Church.”

His hand clenched subconsciously. The owl noticed.

“It looks like you recognize the name. Do they still exist out there?”

“Yes.”

Midi laughed dryly.

“Still ruling their little human places,” the owl said, “pretending they didn’t forsake themselves and their entire race.”

His voice seemed to darken even further.

“I wonder what will happen if one day this barrier comes down, and the demons return to find them. There are plenty who still remember the war.”

Dominic glanced up at the owl. His eyes, crystalline black, glimmered and reflected the red of the mana on the map.

“Are you a demon?” Dominic asked.

Midi looked up at him.

“I am not.”

“But you’re not a human either.”

“I am not. I am an owl.”

Midi wasn’t lying, but that didn’t make it any less confusing. The mana around him didn’t feel right—something about the very composition of it was off. It was like the difference between water and alcohol.

“I’m something like you,” the owl added. “I’m sure you know what you are.”

Dominic studied Midi’s expression for a moment, but it betrayed little.

“I don’t really understand,” he said. “I’m just my mother’s son.”

The owl seemed to smile.

“What a coincidence,” Midi replied. “So am I. Regardless, weren’t we talking about the barrier?”

Dominic ignored the obvious change in subject and nodded.

“Is there no way out of here?” he asked.

“None yet,” Midi answered, shaking his head. “Were you trying to go back?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look disappointed?”

Dominic pursed his lips and didn’t answer.

“It seems you have unfinished business,” Midi remarked.

“It would’ve been far stranger if I’d somehow left nothing behind.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

A look of amusement slowly appeared on his face.

“What was it? Family? Perhaps a lover?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

Dominic glanced up, narrowing his eyes in mild annoyance.

“And I’d prefer if you didn’t pry, Midi.”

The owl seemed to smile slightly.

“And I’d prefer if you didn’t hide things,” he replied. “I guess that makes me nosy too.”

Dominic frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the guest room clicked open and interrupted him.

Caspar appeared. The boy quietly moved over.

“Dominic,” he called.

So Caspar, too, somehow knew his name already. Midi must’ve told him.

“Silas is awake.”

It was a little surprising for the demon to have awoken so fast. He nodded and stood.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”

Caspar smiled.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” he replied. “Have a meal with us later, okay? We haven’t had any visitors before, so please stay a little.”

His excited expression was a little strange considering the circumstances. He reminded Dominic a bit of Aster, but he was harder to understand. It was as if Aster had been shut in a cave his entire life. Caring, but also strangely carefree. Kind, but disconnected.

“Thank you,” Dominic replied. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Caspar’s smile widened. Dominic glanced at Midi, who nodded, and moved away from the cove in the shelves.

His hand stopped momentarily on the handle to the guest room door. He could smell the light scent of mana that resembled grass from inside, though faint. Silas really was awake.

He twisted the knob and walked inside.

Silas was sitting up, propped by several pillows Caspar had stacked around and behind him like a fortress. His gaze was blurry and unfocused, like he was still drowsy. Dominic entered and took a seat beside the bed.

The demon turned slightly towards him, a flicker of life returning to his eyes as he began to wake up properly at the sight of Dominic.

“Where are we?” he asked, voice still raspy, but slowly gaining strength.

“I won’t say,” Dominic replied bluntly.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“I’m still thinking about that.”

He leaned back in his chair.

“What can I even do with you?” he asked. “You’re a healer, but I’m a better one. Have you got any suggestions?”

The demon tensed. He hadn't been injured at all, but he was fully aware of who had the advantage here.

“…I don't know,” he replied vaguely.

Dominic had suspected he’d answer like that. Someone who had lived their entire life at the beck and call of their lord wouldn't be very decisive once it came to themselves.

“If I took you back to Helwin,” Dominic said, “would you return to the castle?”

Silas sat it in silence, but eventually nodded.

“Yes.”

Dominic clicked his tongue. He couldn’t have that as long as the lord was still alive.

“Then if I took you back to Helwin,” he continued, “and handed you off to Thelo, would he kill you?”

“The young master…”

Silas trailed off, thinking it over.

“The young master wouldn’t do that,” he answered. “I never targeted him. I was…”

His expression turned slightly pained.

“…never important enough to do so.”

It was pathetic to see the normally imposing man look so sorry for himself. Dominic studied his face for a moment longer, then finally decided.

“Get up,” he commanded, standing from his seat. “I know your legs work perfectly fine.”

Silas frowned but obeyed. Dominic made his way over to the door and opened it. Caspar was waiting just outside, and he looked over with big eyes as if asking what happened.

“Caspar,” Dominic said, “do you have any chores for him can do?”

“Chores?” Caspar asked. “Are you sure? You two should be resting—”

“Give him some chores,” he insisted. “Dusting the library, washing dishes, scrubbing the floors, anything. He’ll be your personal maid for as long as he’s here.”

“What?!” Silas exclaimed, nonplussed. “When did I agree to—”

“You didn't agree, I’m making you.”

Dominic shot him a look, making him freeze.

“I am not taking you back to Helwin while the viscount is still alive,” he said. “So you are going to stay here and do chores.”

“I’ll leave on my own,” Silas retorted.

“How? Don’t you know where we are?”

“What?”

He glanced around, searching for the nearest window. The thick mass of white fog was clearly visible outside. The defiance melted off his face as he finally realized they were still surrounded. If he took one step outside on his own, he would die instantly.

“We—we’re still in the fog?” he mumbled.

“The deepest part of it,” Dominic replied.

He watched the stunned demon for a moment, then turned to Caspar.

“Where should he start?” he asked.

Caspar hummed as he thought, a hand on his chin.

“How about cleaning the kitchen?”