Learning languages was one hell of a task. Ehrir already knew this from studying Emhaelic, but the southern tongue just made him more confident about it. Albeit not too different from the one spoken up north, it was definitely confusing to learn similar words bound by different grammar. After two weeks of torturing himself with scrolls and yellowy parchments, he was able to speak it barely… It was still thanks to Sevrian, mostly – the books, even full of centuries-old wisdom, couldn’t explain a damned thing properly without trailing off into long, confusing paragraphs full of grotesque-sounding terms.

The first week on the ship was essentially filled with learning that language, along with practicing magic. When it came to sorcery, the Undone One showed steady progress outside Manipulation, which made him relatively happy. The ability to control his soul energy was growing and along with it his overall capabilities, too. He also began exercising with the sword. He couldn’t get far without a proper teacher in that field, though, and stopped doing it soon – the numerous hours of reading, learning and making ice and flames emerge from his fingers were tiring enough by themselves.

Ostrias’ fleet was moving with remarkable speed and the relatively pleasant weather just helped them be faster. The ships were indeed graceful and elegant while riding the waves and Ehrir often spent his free time just sitting on the galley’s handrails and looking at them. The Ashen Gaze’s vessel – “Muse of the Waves” – was undoubtedly the pearl of the whole fleet, but he rarely had the chance to catch a glimpse of it.

Life on the galley was as boring as when they sailed towards the Archipelago of Claws. The crew had recovered back to its original numbers and the damaged parts were even more reinforced. It was hard to tell that the ship participated in a battle just a month ago. But there were still the shadows of sadness and loss lurking in the sailor’s eyes from time to time.

Winter was already stepping in quietly and even going southwards couldn’t shake off the coldness that began reigning over the mornings and late afternoons. The waves were growing bigger and the sun seemed more distanced and somehow colder than before. These changes were barely sensible, but the boredom drove Ehrir to notice even the little changes in his surroundings. Well, they were small at first, anyway. Overall, the voyage was turning out to be boring and monotonous.

And then, at the end of the first week since they left Nalevas, the fog came and things… changed.

***

It first appeared after sunset and for just a couple of minutes. It was eerie and hardly visible at first, but on the second day it was thicker and had a strange, almost ethereal vibe to it. It also remained longer – for almost half an hour.

On the third day it showed up before sunrise and didn’t lift for almost two hours. It was the same in the evening. It was dense to the point that the other ships were hardly recognizable and it was unnerving for everyone on the galley.

“There is something wrong to it”, murmured Sevrian as he stared in it on the third evening. “But I can’t quite tell what.” His dark expression made Ehrir shiver a little. Varhel was also looking grim, but not Nalia, of course.

“What can be scary about a little bit of fog?” she asked afterwards. “There’s plenty of it in my homelands. And none of it has ever bitten anyone.”

“Well, sis, you’re right”, said Varhel quietly while shaking his head. “But this… it’s different, somehow. It just doesn’t seem natural to me.”

Nalia didn’t answer, but she frowned a little.

The dawn of the fourth day since the veil of mist appeared wasn’t much of a dawn in any sense. The gloomy greyness engulfed everything and the numerous lights on board were barely able to fend it off from the deck. The two nearest ships were just dark silhouettes in the fog and the others were practically invisible. The commands coming from the Ashen Gaze’s vessel were given through the empowered voices of sorcerers. That method ensured that the ships aren’t too far from each other, too. Sevrian wasn’t willing to carry out that task, however, so Varhel did it instead.

The sight of mist covering everything was quite unpleasant and created a heavy feeling within the Undone One. It definitely wasn’t cheering the sailors up, too – they were dark and silent, although vague tales about gigantic sea beast and ghost ships lurking on the open seas were brought up regularly in low tones.

Ehrir could give a lot of things to get some soothing words from somebody on that day. He could always go to Nalia, of course, but she would tell him to relax only after calling him a coward or laughing at him. Sevrian, on the other hand, was not looking very cheery himself. Whatever calming phrase the old man could think of would probably sound like a funeral rite coming from his lips.

Finding himself without a real job, Ehrir just resorted to reading the Sorcerer’s Book that his master kindly lend him. He was already familiar with the majority of the tome’s content, but the rich illustrations and well-written text were still a delight for the eye (especially after the tome of transmogrification’s ugliness) and he just gazed at them for quite some time.

The day neared its end quietly and unnoticeably. Ever since the morning it was getting damper and colder and at the hour of sunset (relatively speaking, as any hint of the sun was lost in the mist’s depths) it began raining. It was a frigid kind of rain, even furthering the feeling of anxiety within everyone. It lowered the Undone One’s mood significantly and even the considerable amounts of wine he drank after dinner couldn’t rise it back up. His slumber that night wasn’t calm and his dreams were haunted by undefined, nightmarish things. Of the kind that drank the blood of innocent maidens and gnawed on their bones afterwards, probably.

***

Ehrir was awoken by the sounds of screams. They were coming from the deck above him and sounded primal and full of suffering.

“The day could’ve began in a better way”, he thought while jumping from his bed and starting to put his coat and boots on. He left the cabin – engulfed in twilight and coldness, but seeming like a safe haven compared to the mysterious upper part of the galley. He still didn’t know what was happening there… but it couldn’t be good, could it?

The deck was lit by the usual lanterns and torches, but blackness reigned beyond the handrails and within it the mist still twisted and whirled. It was the middle of the night, no doubts. The only people here were the usual sailors and Varhel, waiting if the need for communication between the ships arose. The other vessels in the fleet were just a miniscule blobs of pale light in the overwhelming darkness.

But something wasn’t right. The oars weren’t moving and all of the sailors were gathered in the deck’s center. Varhel stood in front of them, not moving and with a serious expression put on. He resembled some guardian statue. His face lightened up a little upon seeing Ehrir.

“Good, you’re here”, he uttered intensely. “I hope the master will be awaken by that scream too. We’ll need as much help as possible in this… situation.””

“What… What the hell happened?”

As Ehrir was saying that another scream sounded from somewhere far away. One of the flickering lights crawling through the night stopped.

“Oh, another… So it’s not just us. Damn it”, mumbled Varhel in a grim manner. “I don’t know how to exactly explain it, but…”

“The fog swallowed Ronh!” One of the sailors interrupted, his face twisted from extreme terror. “It… It just rose, became thicker and… he was gone after that!” His voice almost turned into a cry of fear.

The Undone One felt a cold shiver down his spine. The mist had… swallowed someone? What could that mean?

“It’s true”, said Varhel as if reading his mind. “I can’t describe it properly… One moment he was just there, but the next he wasn’t. It’s definitely magic. It has to be. But… I don’t know how this is possible. I haven’t seen anything like it in my whole life.”

“What is all of this noise for, young men?” Just at that time Sevrian’s voice echoed from the deckhouse.

Ehrir felt an instant relief. The old man was probably able to defend the ship against… whatever was creeping around in the night.

Varhel rushed to explain the situation to his master, alongside with nearly a dozen of terrified seamen. There wasn’t too much to tell, but the numerous narrators (to say the least) made it sound complex and even scarier than it already was. The old man’s face twisted into a strange grimace, then it grew more serious and even paled at the end. While all of this lasted screams could be heard from the distance in all directions. The ships were losing sailors and stopping one by one.

“I have no idea what this… thing might be”, Sevrian managed to utter after hearing all the details. “Perhaps master Ostrias will be able to tell us more about it, but we have no way to…”

His talk was interrupted by words sounding with an inhuman might from somewhere ahead of the galley’s bow. It was familiar and made the Undone One at least a bit more relaxed.

“To all the sailors and men in this fleet! Stop moving your ships right now. Try to stay in the light and avoid getting near those damned handrails. Hide in the lower decks, if possible. As for the mages and the apprentices… You better stay on the deck. I’ll sweep by every ship and instruct you on what to do. Relax, it won’t hurt sorcerers. Probably.”

“Well, this isn’t much of a relief”, thought Ehrir bitterly. But still, he stood where he was. The sailors abandoned the deck one by one, but Varhel, Sevrian and him remained. Soon Nalia showed up, too. The three of them explained to her what had happened quietly. Even her face became grim after hearing about it.

It took nearly half an hour of waiting before the Ashen Gaze – flying from vessel to vessel with a ball of bright light in his right hand – reached their galley. The flight would be beautiful in another time and place. Now… Ehrir just hoped for him to come faster.

When he finally arrived, there wasn’t a smile on his face nor a cheery glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll be short”, he began. “What we’re up against is an unusual thing – a remnant of the non-human era, probably. The mist is part of his… body, so to speak. His true being is probably underwater and uses the fog to catch and eat its victims. Its power is immense.”

After every word the mood visibly dropped.

“Let me be clear”, Ostrias added. “I can only give you means to defend yourselves from it, if the need to do so arises. But you don’t have a chance against it. Not even a speck of chance. I’m the only one capable of fighting against it.”