The Creatures Series

First Mist

First MistCreatures of the Mist

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##### First Mist #####

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Game of shadow in the blind of white.... How mystic can it be?

The realm is befogged. Amidst the veil of cloud, I find myself lying over the ground. Dirt is forming larvae under my neck, my hair, and the rest of my body that are touching it, leaving brume pulse inside me. Without a second thought, I rise to a firm stand.

Among so many trees that have grown, a figure is standing right behind one tree that's a perfect replica of the rest. He's not trying to hide himself since I can see him easily, and doesn't even budge when our eyes made contact. The boy has a mixture of angelic and demonic features. His skin is white and his creamy orange hair is so close to the shade of gold, while his eyes are very dark. He's also wearing clothes that are close to my taste—complete from head to toe, beige seams that match his hair color, and a long jacket.

"Excuse my bed head, but what just had happened?" I ask him, for some reason I know that he has something to do with what had happened to me.

"Actually, it's night time." His voice comes out smooth, still very childish. "And to answer your question, you just got back from the other realm."

I look up at the sky, but even the upper side looks like a giant bowl of mist had been poured into the whole area. Now, how could he tell with weather like this?

"And who are you?" Dropping my gaze, I ask him.

"I'm your student, Trace."

"Why can't I remember any of your answers?"

"It's probably just the side effect. You know, after I accidentally sunk you into my pile of papers."

At the mention of papers, I remember instantly.

Trace has always been naughty and hard to control, even after he had fallen under my care. His ability can be considered as something special, but he lacks discipline. That was probably the reason why he didn't listen to me and performed something that he was still far from mastering just yet.

He steps ahead. "Before you can blame me, I'd say that my action was fearless, and you told me that bravery was one of the requirements of becoming strong. So let's just say that I only did what I had to do."

To reply, I only look at him for a moment, before taking a walk to South and back to the clear trail.

"Oh, come on. You can't be mad at me forever," Trace says from behind after walking for about five minutes.

"Magistress," he calls me. I stop and turn to him.

"Did it work?"

"What?"

"Did the spell work?"

He forms a naughty smile as he bit the tip of his left glove proudly, folding his other hand in reflex. "Of course."

Oddly, a strong breeze passes by us, washing away the leaves on the ground, bringing a new wave of leaves to surround us soon. The shade is the same dull yellow as the previous ones, and the wind pierces through Trace’s bones easily.

We are actually in a forest that encompasses several thousands of fog trees, I remember. Or to be precise, in the area of its center. So it’s common to find this never-ending cloud of mist blanketing only the heart of this woods. It is a fact, since it has been so for over the past eight hundred years.

For a forest this ancient, comes a legend as old as it is. There’s a famous story about a fire-breathing dragon that lives in this area. It is known to dwell near the very heart of Mortoul Forest, even though no villagers know about the exact location of its lair. The dragon is feared, even up until now, because they believe that it will generally attack any intruders who trespasses its land. Therefore, we are indeed in an disadvantaging situation, not forgetting about the poor visibility within the forest.

That is, if it’s real.

But the creature picks this time to show up, out of the thousand seconds that he could possibly appear. His golden red eyes pierce into ours instantly even before his entire body is visible.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's something important I would like to discuss with you, Miss Noirmelns," says Nayth Ragonial.

The only piercings I can find on him this time is the one on his nose. It’s a super dramatic change, since he had piercings all over him the last time we met. But that’s not just the only different thing about him. His hair now appears to be the same color as the clear sky above us, through this entire cloudy veil.

His choice of clothes never ceases, though. He’s wearing a similar leather jacket, with a color that matches the burning flame within his hearts. Inside is a dark shirt. And for the bottom, a frozen magma’s shade.

“It’s okay, Trace,” I tell him, noticing how ready he is to let his papers flow out from his shoulder bag from the corner of my eye. And then I turn to Nayth.

“What an unexpected yet expected chance to meet you here, Mr. Ragonial,” I greet him with the same amount of formality that he just used, even though his didn’t really match his tone.

He turns to the opposite side of where we are standing, half-facing me again to let me know that he wants me to follow him. What’s the occasion for a rebellious fire licker to be at his own lair tonight? I wonder as we stop behind a tree, far from Trace’s hearing range.

"I just received this news a few seconds ago. A ten-headed giant swamp snake had been set free to the city. And right now, that creature is roaming around the water canals underground," he explains with a wicked smile and a tone sounds rather excited than panicked.

"You mean Syrchase, the ancient poisonous mega biter?” What kind of fool would do that?

"Lane van de Contigue," he answers the question that echoes in my head.

A Contigue. He must be Xane’s twin brother. We met a while ago, when he tried to kill me in my nightmares. And then again, when he tried to kill me after I hurt his brother. Me and Artro could have died back then, but we luckily settled things down peacefully.

I look at him, waiting for him to end the joke. But it's not.

"Something just had to go wrong when you put a vampire that maniac in an academy of humans," he says.

Now, why would someone even let him be at that kind of place? I get it if it's a creature that looks more like a human, like a wizard or a mentalist, but not some hungry monster that will suck humans' blood at any second when he doesn't have any control of himself anymore.

"Let me guess. It's our mission to find out how all of this could have happen, and restore the safety by locking Syrchase away."

“Actually, this is a solo mission for you. I only come by to pass you the news. It’s really hard to get contact in this kind of area, so His Majesty sent me here instead to inform you.”

“Well, then I better get going.”

With that, I walk away from Nayth and approach Trace to tell him that I have some matters to be done, and then sent him to his next training location alone.

“How much stock do you have left in your shoulder bag?” I ask him while staring at the subject that’s barely peeking from the compressed-looking bag.

“Enough for knocking down a 300-feet monster in an instant,” he answers, clenching his fist with such self-confidence, I narrow my eyes at him.

“Don’t be reckless,” I advise him.

“I won’t,” he promises, even though his words only make me want to believe that the other way around will happen.

Trace is always like this ─ too calm and arrogant. And by the end of the day, I can bet that he will appear in a mess. The bad news is, no matter how hard I teach him to change his attitude, he still never learns. At least he ’ s strong enough to stay alive up to this point.

With one last glance, I finally turn around and walk to the opposite way. He, too, did the same thing, as I can feel his presence drifting away.

The leak happened in the New York city, at the farthest section from Sorcier Tower. It was at the Chinatown area, where most of the damages were done before Syrchase found his new nest inside the water canals. I plan to seal away the giant snake first, but delayed it when I suddenly see a glimpse of a pale figure standing at the top of the highest building around.

He’ll be moving fast, and I have no time to catch up to him, so I use my powers to teleport myself.

It’s not an easy thing to do, since it’s basically not my original power. It’s an ability that I started to develop back when I was still a child, which I soon found out consumed quite a lot of energy after I performed it. I didn’t think it would work, but the result came out greater than what I had expected. I moved around 10 meters from where I stood, and landed on the new place only to breathe exhaustively on the grass.

I still use it occasionally, by making a few exceptions at urgent situations. Like this one.

“Lane van de Contigue, you are now under my incarceration due to your suspected crime,” I tell him when I appear behind him.

He turns around, with expression still so calm. Or even empty, I presume. He looks exactly like in my dream when he stands just like that ─ silent, dark and deadly. And this high building reminds me of the one when I was thrown off the roof of Sorcier Tower.

“What crime?” He asks, rather carelessly or no clue of what had happened.

“Don’t be silly. You know why I’m here.” An evil smirk spread across his face instantly.

“Playing the Sorceir game again, I see. Why don’t you walk away and stay out of my business? I won’t kill you this time, if you do what I say, okay?” He looks upon me in underestimation and pity this time.

I know that he intentionally pronounce ‘Sorcier’ with ‘Sorceir’ just to point out how much he take this as a child’s play and to anger me. And even though I’m no longer with the organization, it’s still certainly bothering me about how he see Sorcier as nothing more important than a puddle of mud.

“It is not a game, Lane. And if you haven’t heard the news yet, I’m no longer part of the organization,” I tell him.

“You’re no longer playing that chase-the-criminal game. So what? Do I look like I care,” he mocks with an overreacting outburst.

My lips form a tight line. I don’t have time for his drama right now. Deciding not to waste any more chances for him to do a speedy escape, I cage him inside my shadows without wasting any second at all. With a raising hand gesture, the tentacles of shadows that form restraint around the shocked Lane squeeze tighter, leaving no space for him to move at all.

As I form a fist, Lane is trapped inside my shadows like a fish in a net. He moans in pain when one tentacle breaks his leg, follow by a row of curses from ten different languages.

“You should really have listened to me until I finish, Lane, because I am not playing a game anymore as well,” I warn him with my dangerous tone.