A few hours had slipped by. Zay continued to hum softly under his breath, the notes barely audible over the steady rhythm of rain pounding against the caravan roof. Rin had dozed off, his head resting against a wooden barrel, arms crossed, chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Jade remained asleep beside Zay, her head still nestled gently on his shoulder, her expression calm—almost peaceful.
Outside, the rain had grown heavier, a relentless cascade from the cloud-choked sky. The fog that trailed around the caravan thickened until it became a curtain of white, swallowing the road and cloaking the trees in shifting, formless shapes. Visibility had shrunk to almost nothing. The caravan might as well have been drifting through a world made entirely of water and shadow.
Inside, Zay shifted his gaze. He examined the barrels stacked together, filling the entirety of the caravan and the ones against the wall—iron rings wrapped tightly around each one. Their wooden slats alternated in tone, from soft honey-brown to deep chestnut, the scent of damp timber, old cargo, and the sharp tang of rain filled the air.
His eyes moved to the caravan's flooring—dark wood, worn smooth by years of travel. The benches were a lighter shade, perhaps pine or something similar. Zay didn't know much about the materials, but he noted the contrast anyway. The soft groan of wheels rolling through wet earth, the occasional splash of puddles, and the rhythmic clop of the horses were the only sounds that pierced the stillness inside.
He glanced again at Jade, at the way her hair fell against her cheek, then looked away quickly, clearing his throat.
"So... what's your name?" Zay asked, breaking the quiet.
There was a short pause before the driver called back, his voice steady over the rain. "You talking to me?"
"Yes, sir."
"The name's Rome. And you?"
"Zay."
Rome chuckled lightly. "Nice to meet you, Zay. Can't see much of you back there, but your voice sounds like someone who appreciates good weather like this."
Zay gave a quiet laugh. "Rain is one of the best melodies in the world, don't you think?"
"Damn right," Rome said. "It's like the sky singing when everything else goes quiet."
Zay nodded, eyes drifting back to the soaked landscape barely visible through the fog. "I grew up in a kingdom where it rained nearly every day. I got used to the sound. Learned to love it, actually."
"Oh yeah? Sounds like my kind of place. Where was that?"
"It's a small kingdom—Ovaris. Not many people know about it."
"Ovaris..." Rome repeated, the name unfamiliar on his tongue. "Never heard of it. Sounds peaceful, though. I'm from Donasilla myself. Down in the south, on the continent of Noir."
They both went quiet again, letting the conversation fade back into the hush of the storm. The rain continued to hammer the world around them, relentless and soothing. The horses pulled the caravan forward through the mist, and in that moment, neither man felt the need to speak. The world outside was wild and restless, but within the worn wood of the caravan, there was warmth, silence, and the soft lullaby of the rain.
Rome suddenly laughed softly, but there was a thoughtful weight to it. "You ever hear of the Fog Walkers?"
That caught Zay's attention. Rin even cracked an eye open.
"No," Zay said. "Should I have?"
"Ah, it's just an old rumor," Rome replied, but his voice dipped lower, like he wasn't entirely convinced. "They say the Fog Walkers only appear during storms like this. When the rain is heaviest and the fog so thick you can't see your own hands."
"What are they?" Zay asked, his tone half-skeptical, half-curious.
"People. Or... they were. No one really knows. The story goes, they're Arbiters who were consumed by their Seals—fog-based ones, all of them. Some say the Seals twisted them, made them part of the mist itself. They don't speak. They just walk. If you see one, you're not supposed to follow it. Ever."
Zay's eyes narrowed slightly, his hum long forgotten. "And have you ever seen one?"
Rome was quiet for a long second. "No. Not me. But traders talk. Stories spread from town to town, and a few say they've seen shadows move inside fog when they should've been alone. Could be superstition. Could be something else."
The caravan continued its slow crawl through the storm. No one spoke. The only sounds were the rain crashing against the roof and the rhythmic beat of hooves cutting through the fog-drowned road.
The rain still hadn't let up. It pounded against the caravan in waves, loud enough now that even Zay's thoughts were half-drowned in the rhythm. The fog had grown heavier somehow—thicker than air had any right to be. Every now and then, the silhouettes of trees loomed briefly before vanishing into the gray once more.
And then... the caravan lurched to a stop.
The horses neighed sharply—nervous, their hooves stamping into the wet dirt, refusing to take another step. Their movements were erratic, panicked, as if something unseen had settled just beyond the veil of mist.
Rome clicked his tongue. "Easy... easy now," he muttered under his breath, though his voice carried back. "What's gotten into them?"
Rin stirred at the noise, his eyes snapping open, body tense. Zay was already on his feet, moving slow, careful not to shift too much weight. As he stood, Jade blinked awake from where she leaned on him, her head rising as her expression knit together in confusion.
"Wha… where are we?" she murmured, her voice groggy but laced with unease.
Nobody answered at first.
Zay glanced out through the back, toward the fog. Nothing moved. But the stillness was too precise—like the world itself was holding its breath.
His eyes narrowed, voice low.
"Could it be... those Fog Walkers?"
For a moment, silence held.
Then Rome gave a short, quiet chuckle—dry, but not entirely amused. "Possibly…" he said, though something in his tone betrayed a flicker of doubt. "They say the horses can sense them before people can. Smell the wrongness in the air."
Rin sat up straighter now, eyes scanning the fog beyond. "If they're real, what do they want?"
Rome exhaled through his nose. "No one's ever gotten close enough to ask."
A sudden gust of wind cut through the mist, sending tendrils curling into the caravan like fingers reaching inward. The horses whinnied louder, pulling against their reins but still not moving forward.
A sudden snap echoed behind them—sharp, brittle, like a twig giving way under weight.
Zay's head whipped around. Jade stirred. Rin's eyes shot open.
All three stared toward the fog-choked path behind the caravan. And then they saw it.
A figure. Humanoid.
It stood still, impossibly still—tall, narrow, draped in something flowing like mist. Despite the heavy fog, they could see it clearly, as if it chose to reveal itself, cutting through the white veil with eerie precision.
But the moment their eyes landed on it, it vanished. Not with movement. Not with sound. Just gone, like it had never been there.
Almost instantly, the fog thickened—dense as wet wool, swallowing the world beyond the edges of the caravan. Visibility dropped to nothing. Only the shapes of the wagon, the wheels, and the barely visible silhouettes of the horses remained.
A moment later, a quiet click sounded as the small wooden door leading from the front of the caravan creaked open. Rome stepped through and shut it behind him, sealing them inside.
He walked toward them—not casually, but with measured steps. Each footfall was deliberate, as if following a specific pattern only he knew. His boots tapped softly against the wooden floor until he reached the group.
Zay looked up.
Rome's build was average, neither imposing nor frail. His short brown hair was matted slightly from humidity, and his eyes… Zay couldn't quite tell their color in the dim light. He wore a black linen shirt, and a dagger sheath was strapped across the back of his waist—worn, but well-kept.
Without a word, Rome stepped to the rear hatch—the only thing separating them from the mist—and extended his hand.
The wooden barrier at the back of the caravan creaked, groaned, then slowly shifted. Fibers unraveled and rearranged themselves like a puzzle being solved in reverse. The hatch sealed itself shut, seamless and firm.
Rome nodded. "Seal of Wood. It comes in handy, even if it's not very powerful."
He turned slightly, glancing at each of them. "It's the reason I became a trader. This seal lets me shape and reinforce wood. Build crates. Seal doors. Protect cargo. Not flashy, but it's saved me more than once."
Outside, the rain continued to fall in rhythmic sheets, and the fog held its breath like the world was watching them—waiting.
For several minutes, the only sound was rain.
It was too quiet.
Then came the sound.
A faint metallic scrape—long and slow, like a blade dragging across wood.
It wasn't from a single direction. It came from everywhere—the walls, the floor, the roof above them. A grating hum that made their skin crawl, as if something was circling the caravan from all sides, dragging steel along the wooden surface. Yet, despite the noise, there were no movement, and no voices. Not even the crunch of footsteps over mud and gravel.
Just that sound.
Zay's voice was quiet, dry, but sharp in the silence. "Well… what the hell do we do?"
Rome didn't look at him at first. He just sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes narrowed. Eventually, he replied with a shrug and a calm voice that didn't match the tension crawling through the air. "We wait. See what they do first."