Chapter 68 :  The Cradle of Shadows

As Curtis  continued to display nothing but calm indifference, Pezan visibly relaxed.

“We entrust tomorrow’s mission to you,” Pezan said. “My father seems more concerned than he lets on… I hope it all goes smoothly.”

“Lord Moritz?” Curtis  tilted his head. Their one proper conversation had been the previous night, and the man hadn’t seemed particularly worried.

“He rarely shows it on the surface,” Pezan whispered. “But ever since the cradle was discovered, there’s been… something restless in him. Just a feeling.”

Curtis  considered it. For the ruler of a city, discovering a demon’s cradle just beyond one’s borders was bound to stir unease.

Aside from that, the banquet itself was unremarkable—pleasant, but brief. Moritz and Mayra had wisely chosen to end it early, knowing what awaited on the morrow.

Dawn broke over Elta, and with it came the departure of the so-called Demon Subjugation Force.
They departed from the manor with the stride of those chosen by fate.

From House Brutaine came twenty-six: the golden-ranked sorcerer Moritz himself, Kane the silver-ranked mage, and twenty-four silver-ranked warriors.
From the Church: ten. Bishop Mayra, two priests capable of invoking the Miracle of Fortitude, Lilia and Delli, six healers, and Curtis .

Nearly forty warriors—every last one considered silver-tier or above. A formation grand enough to be carved into future chronicles.

They departed Elta at sunrise, reached the Mining Village by dusk, and after a night’s rest, journeyed another day to the cradle.

Just as Moritz had promised, they encountered almost no foulspawn along the way. Those few that did cross their path were felled in mere seconds by the silver-ranked warriors—swift, clean, and quiet.

That night, the company camped at the mouth of the ravine.
At dawn, Mayra vanished into the mist with Lilia for a reconnaissance. She returned by sunrise.

“There are no other viable entries into the gorge. We won’t need to climb down from the cliff sides. We’ll proceed straight ahead.”

Though House Brutaine had greater numbers, the Church led this crusade. Even Moritz followed Mayra’s word without question.

Mayra organized the forces into tight-knit squads.
Each group of five included one priest and four warriors—each priest to be the eye of their squad, with fighters guarding fore, rear, and flanks.

“The mist within the cradle is thick enough to blind,” Mayra said, her voice resonant. “We cannot advance as one. But you must not separate from your squad. Move only in formation—defensively. There’s no telling what lurks in the fog. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Remember—your role is to endure, not to overwhelm.”

The remaining were paired for flexibility. Curtis  and Lilia, whose synergy was already proven, formed one team. Moritz was partnered with Delli. As for Kane, the lone silver mage, Mayra took him under her own direct command. He looked none too pleased, but if he’d wanted better, he should have been gold.

“Then let us begin,” Mayra declared.

With the three two-man cells at the vanguard, the crusade stepped into the fog.

The very instant the mist swallowed him, Curtis ’s skin prickled. It was a visceral revulsion—much like the feeling one got when standing before a foulspawn. He could tolerate it… barely.

But the fog—by the gods, the fog—was unnatural. So dense that even Lilia, right beside him, vanished from sight. Curtis  suddenly understood how Moritz had nearly gotten lost.

“Purify!”

Mayra’s command rang out.

Fshh!
A flare of platinum light blossomed nearby. It was Lilia. Her outstretched hand shimmered with holy radiance, driving the mist back like dawn banishes shadows.

One by one, other lights blinked to life throughout the formation. The priests were invoking the Miracle of Purification. The fog parted just enough—visibility extended a few paces. It eased the suffocation, if only slightly.

“Do not waste your divine power!” Mayra’s voice followed. “The fog is too deep to dispel entirely. Use it sparingly, like a torch in the dark!”

They moved cautiously.

Minutes passed. Then an hour. Still no sound save their own movements. Not a growl. Not a whisper of wings. The silence was so profound it grated on the soul.

“Brother Curtis …”

Lilia’s voice, for once subdued, tugged him from his thoughts. Perhaps it was the serious mood, or Mayra’s nearby presence, but she had been unusually reserved—until now.

Apparently, her patience had worn thin.

She tugged gently at his sleeve. Curtis  welcomed the distraction.

“You called?”

“Can’t you get rid of the fog?” she whispered. “It’s like… wet air, right? Water-ish?”

“I considered it,” Curtis  murmured, shaking his head. “But it’s not normal fog. It doesn’t respond to me. Feels… like it runs on a different system entirely.”

“Oh no. Does that mean your magic is blocked too?”

“I don’t think so.”

To demonstrate, Curtis  conjured a tiny spiral of water in his palm. The ambient moisture—the ‘natural’ water—was still under his command.

He snapped his fingers, flicking the droplets away.

“No problem there. If anything, I just need a target to test on… but…”

Curtis ’s voice faded.

The lights—those flickering beacons trailing behind them—were gone.

Not dimmed. Gone.

“Lilia! The lights—!”

He turned.

But Lilia was no longer there.

The space beside him, which had been filled with her warmth, her presence, her voice—was now nothing but silence and white.

“What… what is this…?”

He whispered.

And then—a voice.

Slick as oil. Cold as stone. It slithered past his ear.

“You’re all… alone now…”

Curtis  froze.

Not from fear, but from clarity.

He felt no breath behind that voice. No heat, no soul. Whatever had spoken—if it could even be called a speaker—wasn’t truly there. Not in body, not in form.

But its presence was suffocating.

He clenched his jaw and raised a hand, water swirling around his knuckles like a warning. The fog pressed in, thicker than before, as if reacting to his will.

“Show yourself,” he said, voice level.

Nothing.

Only silence, and the slow, pulsing beat of the cradle beneath his feet.

Somewhere in this mist, Lilia was lost. Alone—or worse.

His thoughts narrowed to a single edge.

No matter what darkness whispered… he would find her.
And when he did, may the fog itself learn to fear him.