Chapter 5
The forest gradually fell silent.
Not suddenly, though, but in layers—the rustling at first, and then the hum Arius had thought only the wind. Even the sounds of his own footfalls seemed to muffle, as if the earth itself was absorbing the noise.
Arius noticed this before Esin said anything.
"The numbers in his vision changed.
They no longer swam erratically or burst randomly. Instead, they thinned out, with an uneven spacing pattern, as if cautious witnesses were backing away into the distance. Their colors echoed this shift towards receding into the background, weakening into light sketched-out impressions of trees and mist.
Something was wrong.
"Stop," Esin said
Arius stopped immediately. Catching his breath was difficult, as it was a habit he had to control. He didn't understand why he halted, only that doing so was the right decision.
Before them, the mist thickened. In a normal observer, it would have been innocuous, even boring. Arius, however, had a sense of pressure at the back of his head, a barely-there presence, like the presence of an unanswered question hanging at the edge of his mind.
"What is it?" he asked.
Esin did not respond immediately. It simply fixed its steady gaze on the mist.
"It is not danger," Esin said finally. "And it is not safety. It is something that reacts."
Arius scowled. The numbers darted again, momentarily forming a pattern that he almost grasped—almost.
"Reacts… to what
"To certainty."
A small chill ran up Arius's spine.
He tried to concentrate even better, driving his mind instinctively towards symbols within his sight. As soon as he did that, his head ached vividly. The colors swirled and folded inside to settle properly.
"Don't," Esin whispered. "Observation must come before interpretation. You are imposing meaning where there's only signals."
Arius took a breath and relaxed his mind. He ceased to try to comprehend.
The pressure abated.
It was only then that he noticed it—the mist was not moving in a smooth, consistent manner. There was something in the mist that disrupted this flow, a subtlety that was defined by presence through absence.
"I can't see it," Arius whispered. "But I know it's there."
Esin tilted its head ever so slightly. "That's awareness. Many don't even attain that level."
Arius paused. 'If I had walked forward?'
"The world would have answered," said Esin. "And you would not have known what question you asked."
They changed course, skirting around the mist without heading towards it. The forest appeared to ease, responding to their adjustment. The symbols within Arius's vision changed, rearranging themselves less chaotically, forming patterns that were not menacing anymore.
Continuing on their walk, Arius spoke again. His words were slow and deliberate.
"This world doesn't punish ignorance," he said. "It punishes confidence."
Esin looked at him.
For a brief instant, Arius felt exposed—as if that single sentence had revealed more of him than he had intended.
"You are learning the right fear," Esin said. "This will keep you alive."
The trees thinned out ahead of them, opening up into a dimly lit clearing that was colored in soft blues. Arius felt the pressure in his chest ease—not go away, but find balance.
It was as if the truth clicked into
This view was not intended to provide answers.
It was there to make the observer accountable for the questions it asked. And somewhere in the world of Myre, something had taken notice of the way he chose to see.