The air thickened again the moment we stepped beyond the cemetery gates. The mist here wasn't the same—it pulsed faintly, almost as if breathing, and with each inhale, it drew closer.
The path beneath us was unlike the sword sigils before. This one—etched in intricate, overlapping scales—seemed to shimmer faintly with each step, its grooves alive with pale green light. It felt like walking on the spine of something ancient.
Esther exhaled, her breath visible in the cold. "This pattern… feels wrong. Almost like it's leading us into something's mouth rather than toward an exit."
I nodded slowly, my eyes darting to the edges of the mist. "I know. Every step feels heavier."
A low tremor rippled through the ground, faint at first—like a heart beating deep beneath the stone. The mist ahead churned violently, forming spirals, then dispersing again.
Esther gripped her sword tighter. "Regina, that sound—"
"I hear it too." It wasn't the howling of hounds or the cries of a Mirageu. It was slower, deeper—something that groaned and echoed through the fog, dragging along the wind.
A realization hit me. "This might be what he warned us about… the 'being of such size.'"
Esther's eyes widened, her flame flaring brighter. "Then we should move. Now."
We picked up the pace, our footsteps echoing against the cold, scaled path. But no matter how far we went, the sound followed—closer, heavier, deliberate.
The scales beneath our feet began to glow brighter, pulsating faster. "Regina… this path—it's not guiding us away. It's calling something!"
I stopped dead in my tracks, glancing at her. "What do you mean—"
The ground cracked.
From beneath the carved scales, something massive stirred. The entire field of stone convulsed like a waking beast, the scales breaking apart to reveal faint sinews of something alive below.
Esther shouted, "Run! Forget the scroll, forget the path—RUN!"
The moment we turned, a colossal shape loomed in the mist—a pair of white, glowing eyes like hollow moons, staring straight through us. The wind howled, and the ground heaved once more.
I could barely breathe. Every instinct screamed to look away, to not acknowledge its full shape. The man's warning echoed in my mind—
"When you see the being of such size that stares… immediately run. Never confront it, never look at it, never listen to it."
The mist itself seemed to bend around the thing, its presence suffocating. Even without seeing its full form, I could feel it—a monstrous, serpentine presence stretching beyond what my senses could measure.
"Go, Esther!" I yelled, grabbing her wrist. "Don't stop!"
We sprinted through the mist, the scaled path crumbling beneath us, each thunderous rumble shaking the earth like a heartbeat from the underworld.
Behind us, that faint, guttural voice whispered something through the fog—a sound so deep and wrong it made my skull ache.
Esther covered her ears, screaming, "Don't listen! Don't!"
I stumbled but forced myself up, every nerve in my body screaming to keep moving.
Whatever was buried beneath those scales—It was no ruin. It was something still alive.
The moment we took our next step, the first scroll in my bag flared to life, glowing so intensely that it nearly burned through the fabric.
"Don't tell me—right now!?" I yelled, gripping the radiant parchment as the world around us began to quake.
The ground pulsed beneath our boots, and an unnatural hum rolled through the mist. The trembling in my chest wasn't just fear — it was something deeper, a resonance that reached into my lungs and made it hard to breathe.
We ran. And as we did, the scroll unfurled itself midair, light bending and twisting into written words that burned across the fog.
When the storm brewed maliciously so did the serpent birth itself.
The mist turned dark, forming a vortex above. From within, something moved — scales rippling like liquid glass, a colossal shadow twisting through the void.
Its size spanned the river of white yet contained its figure.
A ripple coursed through the fog, and for an instant, I saw it — the serpent, so massive that its body coiled from horizon to horizon, yet its presence fit perfectly within the world, as if it belonged to the mist itself.
It seeks nothing more but praises and greetings from the figures in white.
Through the haze, figures appeared — pale robed silhouettes kneeling in rows, heads bowed in worship toward the sky. Their voices rose in distorted chants, hollow and metallic.
But know it's not ignorant from their own shortcomings.
The chanting warped into screams. The white figures turned, their faces melting into ash and light, the same serpent's reflection gleaming in their hollow eyes.
Esther stumbled beside me, clutching her sword tighter. "Regine—it's talking through the verses!"
I didn't answer. My heart was pounding too loud.
Warning the children to run only to their death.
Tiny shadows — children — appeared within the mist, their laughter echoing in reverse. They ran toward us, but vanished before touching the light.
Warning the Females to run only to be enslaved.
Behind them, the silhouettes of chained women reached skyward, dissolving into petals of ash that floated around us.
Powerless, Pitiful is the story of the Serpent of the Mist.
The serpent's roar thundered overhead, shaking the earth so hard I nearly lost my footing. Through the rolling fog, I saw its massive head emerge, crowned with cracked marble horns, its eyes gleaming in grief.
Warning the innocent men who hate war only to lead them to battle.
Around its coils, phantoms of armored men appeared — spectral soldiers clashing endlessly, their blades shattering and reforming, locked in an eternal loop of violence.
Esther shouted over the roar. "It's… showing us the past!"
Such luck never spawned in faith of the serpent of the mist yet it tries to save.
The serpent coiled tighter, the world shuddering under its weight. Its light dimmed as if burdened.
Its tears of failures grew the river in white.
The mist thickened — and only now did I realize: it wasn't fog. It was the serpent's tears, endless and suffocating.
It knows no victory but the sad reality of defeat.
Lightning cracked above. For every flash, I saw visions — temples burning, white-robed priests fleeing, the serpent collapsing into the river of mist.
It tastes no salvation, only the prayers of unending life.
The ground opened beneath us. We leapt across a fissure, narrowly avoiding a flood of glowing water that steamed like breath. Every droplet whispered a prayer — desperate, hollow, endless.
Its quench for victory made it bargain with the devil.
The serpent raised its head. Its mouth opened, light pouring from within — and inside that light, a black silhouette grinned back at it.
Now its strong, Now its relentless.
The mist around it burst outward, throwing us back. I hit the ground hard, dirt and ash in my mouth. The serpent roared again, and this time, its voice was two-toned — one divine, one demonic.
It buried the entirety of the evil in its fangs.
The world flashed red. I saw cities crumbling under its strike, hordes of shadow-like creatures being devoured whole.
An uncrowned saviour turned to the devil for its first taste of victory.
Esther whispered hoarsely, "It wasn't the villain… it was used."
Yet, it lived far too long; it became its own undoing.
The light in its eyes began to fade. The serpent turned its gaze downward, where the same white-robed figures it once protected were now raising spears toward it.
It became its own sorrow as the people turned on it.
The spears pierced its body. The serpent didn't fight back — it simply wept.
Sad, defeated, it became angry that it promised to crash the temples.
A final roar ripped through the heavens, and marble pillars shattered one after another, collapsing like falling stars.
What can you do? When the figures in white run amok.
The chant echoed again — the same figures now laughing, burning, consumed by their own light as the serpent's body dissolved into the river of mist.
Then, silence. The scroll's final word flickered — and the entire text burned away in a flare of gold.
We stumbled forward, coughing from the haze, until the trembling ground finally steadied. The scroll floated down gently, its glow fading to a dull ember.
Esther broke the silence, voice trembling. "Regine… that wasn't just history, was it?"
I shook my head. "No. It was a warning."
The mist settled again, eerily calm, but far behind us — a deep rumble echoed once more. As if something ancient… had just awakened from its slumber.
The ground no longer trembled, but the echo of the serpent's roar lingered like a memory that refused to die.
We kept walking until the fog thinned enough for the outline of an old stone arch to appear. Its surface was chipped, worn down by time and sorrow. Esther slumped down beside it, her sword dimming until the flame became no brighter than a candlelight.
For a while, neither of us said a word.The silence wasn't peace — it was exhaustion wrapped in fear.
The first scroll floated gently between us before turning into fine dust, leaving behind a faint golden residue that shimmered like pollen. I reached out, tracing the remains with my fingers.
"Is it just me," Esther muttered, "or did it feel like the serpent wasn't truly the monster everyone claimed it to be?"
I nodded slowly. "That's what I thought too. It… wanted to protect them. But in the end, it destroyed everything it tried to save."
Her flame flickered weakly. "Maybe that's what happens when you're desperate enough to deal with a devil. You win the battle, but lose everything that made you human."
I let her words sink in. The mist around us seemed to pulse gently, as if listening.
"The white-robed figures," I said. "They were the same kind as the man from the cemetery… the Miragians. Maybe they were the 'figures in white' the scroll warned about."
Esther sighed. "If that's true, then the serpent's story wasn't just a tragedy — it was a cycle. The same mistakes being repeated by the people who called themselves saviors."
I leaned back against the arch, staring into the pale sky that had no stars."How many of these scrolls are going to show us things like this? Warnings, tragedies, deaths of gods and men…?"
"All twelve, if what he said was true."
We both went quiet again. Only the faint hum of the mist filled the space between us.
For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw movement in the distance — a faint ripple across the fog, too smooth to be wind. But when I blinked, it was gone.
I reached for the next scroll in my satchel, but hesitated.Its seal was etched with a symbol of scales, the same one we had followed here. The wax shimmered faintly under the dim flame, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Esther noticed. "You're not planning to open it yet, right?"
I shook my head. "Not here. The serpent's scroll taught us something — these things don't just speak, they recreate. Whatever power's in them, it wants to be seen."
Esther gave a small, tired laugh. "You're saying the scrolls have a will of their own?"
I looked down at the faint trail of golden dust still glowing between us. "I think they remember."
That made her pause.
We sat there in the half-light, the weight of the first revelation pressing down on us. The serpent's story replayed in my mind — its cries, its rage, its fall.
If the serpent of the mist was once a savior turned destroyer…then what did that make us — outsiders meddling with what remains of a dead world?
The mist drifted thicker again, and a cold wind passed through, whispering faintly like the tail end of a forgotten prayer.
I rose slowly, brushing the dust off my coat."Come on," I said. "Let's find shelter before the mist gets any denser."
Esther stood, reigniting her sword's flame, though it flickered faintly as if unsure of itself. As we walked, she whispered, almost to herself, "Regina… do you think the serpent's still out there?"
I didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched long enough for the question to lose its edge.
"Maybe," I finally said. "But if it is… I hope it remembers mercy."