Chương 113: Interlude: Through the Mist

The sun bled through the canopy, slanting gold and crimson across the trees as Pearl padded ahead, spear in hand, her gaze fixed forward. The walker-lily village had vanished behind them, swallowed by the forest as they made their way towards the trial grounds.. Cade's footsteps behind her were heavier and clumsier than hers, but not entirely graceless. He was learning, even if it was slower than she would have liked.

"So," he said, splashing lightly as he stepped over a puddle, "what's the deal with the leeches?" Pearl glanced back. His face was open, curious. Human faces were so loud. All their emotions just… laid out for everyone to see.

"What deal?"

"You guys are seemingly all pacifists, but when it comes to leeches they're kill-on-sight." She blinked.

"What does pacifist mean?" His explanation made her croak softly. A word for what her people had always done—preserve life when they could, take only when necessary.

"Yes," she said.

"That is our way. We do not kill unless it is for food or the Cycle." But leeches? They were different. Not of the Cycle. She tried to explain, and to his credit, Cade listened. Really listened. He even compared the leeches to a disease—a thing called cancer—and she found herself surprised by how apt the metaphor was. Too much life, he'd called it. Growth without balance. Not as dense as she feared. Still mostly dense, though. The light drained slowly from the sky, and the conversation dwindled.

As the canopy thickened above them, Pearl slowed.

"Sound travels far in the dark," she said, keeping her voice low.

"And things in this part of the swamp hear better than they see. We should not speak from here." Cade nodded and they walked on in silence. But Pearl's thoughts were anything but quiet. She should not have brought him. Second Elder Varosk had tasked her with the Trials early, before she thought she was ready. Because she was the only one of her cohort to walk all three paths, because her aptitude with the paths was stronger than the others. Because the elders had no one else.

And now she was not even allowed to face the Trials alone. Cade wasn't part of her path. He was a stranger, lost and fumbling through a world he didn't understand. And worse yet, she was responsible for him. Pascal's face rose unbidden in her thoughts. Bright-eyed and brave, she remembered his every feature clear as pure water in her mind. A mistake she hadn't been able to undo. Pearl exhaled through her nose and tightened her grip on her spear. She would not let another companion die under her watch. Not again.

But that didn't mean she had to like dragging the human through the sacred trials meant for her and her alone. The Great Tree demanded much. The Elder's demanded much. And today, they demanded she carry someone else's weight as well as her own. The stillwater stretched out before them, a mirror of dark glass disturbed only by drifting debris and the occasional flick of something unseen beneath the surface. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, painting the scene in shades of violet and shadow.

Across, the bank was veiled in a thick curtain of mist, slow-moving and dense. They were close now. Pearl paused at the edge of the shallows, her eyes scanning the far bank, then the island nestled midway between. A stepping stone—but only if they moved swiftly. Her gaze flicked upward. Hanging from a crooked branch like overripe fruit, a leech swayed gently in the breeze. Its slick, bloated body was the length of her arm, tapering to a point like a grotesque seedpod.

She pointed it out to Cade, then made the hand-sign: Observe. Stay alert. He squinted into the dark, nodded. Good. At least he understood the basic signals. Pearl stepped into the water. It lapped against her thighs, warm and thick with decay. Thankfully, the stretch they needed to cross was shallow here, a narrow pass where even the largest of the bloated ones would struggle to submerge fully. That didn't mean they were safe—just that they might have a chance to react.

She moved forward with practiced precision, each footfall silent despite the muck. Cade followed behind her, not perfect but quieter than before. He was learning. She supposed that counted for something. Then she heard it. A faint splash. Pearl turned in an instant. The hanging leech was gone. The ripples spread from where it had dropped into the water, and already she could see it—gliding just beneath the surface, honing in on Cade like it could smell his weakness. It probably could. He didn't even notice.

He was staring around like an eager hatchling on his first forage, eyes wide with wonder, utterly unaware of the predator drawing closer. Poor human, she thought. He couldn't even sense something about to suck his essence dry. She didn't hesitate. Pearl pivoted sharply, her spear slicing low through the water and driving straight between Cade's legs. The weapon struck true with a crunch of ruptured flesh and a spray of dark ichor. The leech spasmed on the end of her spear, still writhing as she lifted it clear.

Cade yelped and leapt backward, alarm etched across his face. Did he really think she was attacking him? Pearl scowled and showed him the squirming leech skewered on her spear. He stared at it too long—fascinated or horrified, she couldn't tell. With a grunt, she yanked it free and hurled it back into the water. Let the others feast on it instead of them. But the damage was done. Cade's startled cry had been too loud. Already, she could hear more splashes. Faint at first, then growing. Dozens. Maybe more.

The floodgates had opened. Pearl tensed, body coiling into readiness. She flicked her spear toward the small island ahead. Go. Move. Fast. The moment Cade understood, she surged forward, cutting a path through the water. Leeches closed in from all sides. She could feel them—ripples too sharp, too fast. Shapes writhed beneath the surface, angling toward the warmth of their bodies. Pearl killed the first before it breached. Then another.

Her spear darted like a striking serpent, each thrust met with a wet burst and the reek of ruptured corruption. But there were too many shapes slipping past. They were beset by a swarm. They reached the island just in time. She vaulted up and spun, already driving her spear through the first to follow. Cade stumbled after her, climbing up and nearly losing his footing, but he made it. They didn't speak. No time.

The leeches surged onto the island, squirming across the wet earth in heaving waves—long, thin ones that slithered like ropes, squat ones that bounced, and bloated abominations that dragged their weight forward with single-minded hunger. Pearl lost all thought as she became motion. She weaved around Cade, her spear a blur of wood and blood. Every motion was instinct, each strike clean and lethal. But she hated every kill.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Even these corrupted things had once been part of something. But that thought made what she had to do here worse. They were never part of the Cycle. But they were still alive. Still struggling to exist. And she was ending them. She grit her teeth and stabbed again. Then one slipped past her. It lunged toward Cade, and she turned—too slow. But he didn't freeze.

He swung his tortoise shell like a club, bashing the leech aside with a crack. Another he knocked off with a twist of his shoulder. It wasn't elegant, but it worked. Pearl blinked. Maybe the shell wasn't such a foolish tool after all. She considered its value—not just for him, but perhaps even for herself. Something to ask him about later. Her thoughts fractured as another leech launched from the edge. This one was faster, more agile. Cade grabbed it with bare hands.

She stared as he slammed it into the earth and brought his shell down in a brutal arc. The leech popped like overripe fruit, spraying gore across his chest and face. He stood there afterward, stunned, face twitching. Pearl narrowed her eyes. First time, then. His first kill. She only hoped he wouldn't break from it. Cade stood there, still as stone, the remains of the leech dripping from his body and shell. His face had gone slack, his gaze unfocused. Pearl recognized the look. Shock.

The kind that crawled beneath the skin and hollowed out the breath. She had seen it before. When the youngest of her clutchmates had gone into the marshes and not come back. When Pascal had frozen while a tortoise's shadow fell over them. That wide-eyed stare before the soul made a choice—whether to return, or not.

"Cade," she snapped. His head jerked toward her. The haze lifted in his eyes, just enough to register the two leeches that had slipped past her perimeter. They were coming fast, undeterred by the steaming gore still painting the island. He reacted faster than she expected. One was batted aside by his shield. The other, he stomped. Hard. The impact squelched, spraying gore up his leg. Not elegant. But effective. Pearl gave a small croak of approval—barely audible, but genuine.

He was still shaky, but she no longer had to protect him entirely. He was moving, responding to the swarm as the leeches tried to envelop them. And most importantly—he wasn't broken by his first kill. Together, they fought. She carved, slashed, and spun, her body flowing through each motion as the leeches surged around them. Cade kept close, using the shell to bash anything that got too close and shouting warnings when he spotted movement from behind her. Would he die if she wasn't here? Absolutely.

But to her mild surprise, he might take a few down with him. Still, she was here. And while she was, nothing would lay fangs on the human's neck. The swarm began to thin. The slick ground was littered with twitching bodies. Some of the leeches had begun to turn on the corpses of their kin, gorging themselves on what remained. The frenzy was breaking, their instincts reverting to easy prey—essence already spilled and ready for the taking. Pearl slowed her pace, panting to catch her breath.

Cade was gasping beside her, his face pale but alert. The water was still again. But just when she thought they were in the clear she heard another splash. Pearl's head whipped toward the bank they had come from. The surface heaved, parting like a fiberstem torn down the middle. What rose from it was a leech the likes of which she'd never seen before. It was a leviathan. Ten meters long, a meter and a half thick, bloated with hoarded essence. Its body pulsed as it moved, undulating forward with appalling speed.

Pearl froze, blood draining from her face. Cade turned toward her, his eyes wide. Yet he didn't move. Was he really considering fighting it? Fool. Stubborn, thick-skulled fool.

"No…" she whispered.

"That one is too big." Her legs moved before her thoughts caught up. She bolted for the misted bank. There was no room for hesitation. The Mistweaver's boundary would protect them. The leeches could not cross. She didn't need to look back. Cade had made it this far. He could move. He could think. He had seen what was coming. He would follow. He had to follow. Pearl didn't look back. She burst through the veil of mist, lungs burning, her breath rasping through clenched teeth.

Her legs didn't stop moving until the ground beneath her shifted from mud-slick swamp to the fibrous, knotted roots of something ancient. Towering root-walls rose before her, forming natural archways in the gloom. Mist clung to the air like gauze, thick but strangely warm. Familiar. She paused. This was it. The Trial Grounds of the Mistweaver. She rushed past the barrier and the air pulsed gently with essence—not the raw lightning of storm or the desolation of the Ashen Wastes, but something subtler, deeper.

A whisper beneath her skin. The roots here throbbed softly with life. Somewhere, she knew, the Great Tree was watching. She turned back toward the mist. Waiting. Cade would be here. She had been sure he was right behind her. He had to have been. She could feel the leech's presence fading, unable to follow. The mists were sacred. They protected initiates from interruption. The trials had rules and the Cycle would not allow that beast inside. So where was he? A dozen heartbeats passed. Then two dozen more. Nothing.

Pearl's fingers tightened around her spear. He was supposed to be right behind me. She stepped toward the boundary, her feet hesitant for the first time since the village. Just as she reached the archway of twisted root and mist, the ground shifted. Roots surged upward, thick and gnarled, entwining themselves across the threshold in a dense, impassable weave. Her eyes widened.

"No," she croaked, rushing forward. She struck the roots with the butt of her spear but they didn't budge, solid as the walls that surrounded her. Why? she thought. Why won't it let me go back? She pressed her palm against the bark. It was cool and damp, humming faintly with presence. She didn't need to say the words aloud to know who was listening. The Great Tree. If this was your will, then so be it. She let out a long, low exhale, then turned away. It had to be a test. That was the only answer.

The Great Tree must have separated them deliberately. Perhaps Cade had another trial waiting. One suited to his strange lack of attunement. He couldn't follow the mist like she could—he didn't have the affinity. Surely the Tree would understand that. Surely… it would take mercy. Pearl shook her head. Hope wasn't a strategy that would pass these trials. She had to focus on her task and only when she was done could she worry about Cade again. She adjusted her grip on her spear and faced the maze ahead.

Markers emerged from the mist, etched with the swirling path of the ancestor. They confirmed what she had suspected. This was the Mistweaver's Trial. She walked forward, slow and silent, until the mist swallowed her. The Great Tree would watch. She would walk the path. Alone. Just like she had imagined since she was a tadpole. The mist thickened around her, but Pearl didn't flinch. Her eyes half-lidded, she let her breathing steady, deep and rhythmic, in sync with the quiet pulse of the Trial maze. She walked.

Every few dozen steps, the air shifted, and the path opened into an intersection—first two paths, then four, then five. The Great Tree's labyrinth was not fixed. It reformed, reshaped itself depending on who walked it and how well they listened. Pearl didn't rush. She had trained for this. All her life she had trained for this. The other tadlings from her cohort had been born with affinity for only one of the ancestor's paths. They'd been allowed to focus on a single path. But not her.

Pearl had shown early signs of all three ancestral weavings. And because of that, the Elders had expected her to be more. A walker of all three paths. A symbol of convergence. And now, with Varosk's command still echoing in her memory, she had been sent to complete the Trial—alone. Except she wasn't alone, was she? Not entirely. He was supposed to be right behind me. She clenched her jaw, forcing the thought out. No distractions. At the next junction, she slowed. There were four branching paths, veiled in mist.

She brought two fingers to her brow and breathed in deep. Weave. The world shifted. Her senses slipped sideways. Essence moved soft and responsive to her. The mist gathered to her call, forming currents barely perceptible to the eye. One of the paths pulsed gently in answer. She followed. Six more intersections passed this way. Each time, she reached out to the mist, and each time, it responded. The rhythm of the maze soothed her. But then came the seventh junction. Three archways stood before her. Left. Right.

Center. She inhaled, drawing the mist inward, and called again. But this time, nothing came. She blinked. Again, she tried but the mist didn't move. Pearl frowned and stepped toward the center path, her eyes narrowing. Then she heard it. A voice.

"Pearl?" It froze her blood.

"Pearl... it's me." No. It couldn't be. She took a step forward, staring into the mist.

"Pascal?" she whispered.

"Yes!" the voice came again, bubbling with joy.

"You came... you finally came. The Great Tree saved me. I've been living with her ever since. I'm safe, Pearl. I'm safe!" Her chest tightened.

"But… you died. The ash tortoise—""No," the voice cut in, firm now.

"I survived. The Tree protected me. She said you would come. That if you followed my voice, I could guide you to her." The mist swirled. It felt warmer now. More inviting. Pearl's heart screamed that this couldn't be. The Cycle did not return the dead. But her soul remembered Pascal. His laugh. The way he used to hum to the mushrooms before harvesting. The way he'd trusted her, even when she had failed to protect him. He sounded like him. He felt like him.

She stepped forward into the center archway, breath hitching.

"Pascal," she whispered again, almost a prayer.

"Please be real."