The Mists of Death were a place of darkness.

  The earth and sky were shrouded, while the billowing winds carried the chilling touch of death. Visibility was terrible, making the airship float alone in what seemed like infinite, all-encompassing darkness. Only an ever-present glow, like the last ray of a setting sun, prevented the Mists of Death from being totally impenetrable, as if the Gods had decided to show the mortals of this land at least some pity.

  According to Laura, this glow was sunlight eternally trapped in here, unable to find its way out of the darkness.

  "What a cheery place," Boney said, looking around.

  "It makes the Dead Lands seem full of life." Jerry shook his head. "Do you think we should approach the ground, Marcus? We could be moving in circles."

  "That’s a good idea, as long as we don’t land."

  The ship descended. Streams of darkness flowed around them, obstructing their sight at times, and they exuded a cold so biting that it made one’s heart feel like stopping.

  The ground eventually came into sight. It was barren, cracked, dry, and strewn with bones—a perfect image of what hell might have looked like, or maybe a desolate desert.

  "Even the undead cannot survive here," Laura muttered. "They break apart, and their bones get scattered in the four winds…"

  "You liar! Look! There’s a goat!" Jerry said.

  Everyone followed his gaze. A goat-like animal wandered below them, colored entirely black and with three sets of horns—one of the mutated animals Marcus had mentioned. It chewed on bones.

  "I told you, the animals here are mutated," the treasure hunter explained. "That thing is clearly abnormal."

  "But what if it’s actually friendly?" Jerry asked. "Should we go check?”

  "Anything that can survive such a high concentration of death energy is bound to be hostile, Master…"

  "Boney’s right." Laura nodded. "The only harmless creatures here are small birds which are said to bring good luck. Besides those, trust nothing and nobody. In this place, everything is death."

  “You mentioned high concentration of death energy. Will the wood nettle potion be enough?" Marcus asked.

  "With a double dosage, yes, but we’ll get stomach ulcers if we stay here too long."

  "Really? The explorers of Alabaster didn’t know that."

  "Maybe that’s why they died."

  "No." Marcus shook his head. "That was due to the tentacle monsters."

  "The what?"

  As the goat-like animal traveled below them, it passed by a wide crevice, one of the many that littered the ground. Two black tentacles shot out instantly.

  The fight was intense but short. The goat only had time to bleat and move its head around a couple of times before the tentacles got a firm grip, one wrapped around its throat and the other its waist. A third tentacle lashed at its hind legs, and the three of them quickly dragged the bleating goat into the dark crevice, where it barely fit.

  A loud, sickening crunch later, everything went quiet.

  Everyone on the airship stared.

  "What the hell was that?" Horace was the first to speak.

  "I told you; tentacle monsters." Marcus shrugged. "They inhabit the crevices and never exit. They don’t need to eat—they survive on death energy—but meat helps them reproduce."

  "Reproduce?"

  "Yes. According to a group of explorers who made it out, these tentacle monsters release a spore cloud that gets scattered by the winds. If a spore lands in an empty crevice, it may mature into a new tentacle monster. That’s how they spread around the entire Mists."

  "Spore cloud?" Jerry asked. "Are you saying these things are plants?"

  "This is the Mists of Death. Who can tell? I just know that they’re everywhere and make traveling on the ground a total bitch."

  "I’m so glad we borrowed this airship," Jerry repeated his earlier statement, letting out a chuckle. "So, uh… Where do we go?"

  "Arakataron should be where the death energy is densest, so at the center of the Mists," Laura said. "The Mists are a perfect hemisphere, and we dove straight into them, so we should reach there if we maintain our current course. The landmarks below can help us avoid deviations."

  Everyone looked at each other.

  "Sure," Marcus said. "You heard her, boys; steady course ahead! I’ll keep a lookout for landmarks to make sure we’re going straight."

  The Billies roared in agreement. However, somebody disagreed.

  "Actually," Horace said, taking a step forward to command everyone’s attention, "I have another suggestion."

  They turned to look at him.

  "Granny used to be a high-ranking member of the Order, and she knows a lot of things. Specifically…she knows how to break the Curse."

  The revelation fell like a ten-ton brick.

  "Break the Curse?!" Everyone jumped up, especially Jerry. "Are you serious?"

  "Very." He nodded. "That’s what she told me before leaving. If you people really dared dive into the Mists, I was supposed to reveal everything."

  "Then tell us already!" Jerry ushered. "Don’t keep us waiting!"

  "Very well."

  The airship crossed the darkness, flying over tentacle monster-infested crevices and all sorts of mutated animals—Jerry really wanted to take a look at them, but learning about the Curse took precedence. That was the whole reason he’d come to the Dead Lands!

  "The Curse is caused by a very elaborate magical device," Horace began. "It isn’t really a curse, or a plague. Just a series of death energy ripples constantly emitted from that device, strong enough to spread all the way from the center to the edges of the Dead Lands. These ripples are formless and invisible, but as they repeatedly strike a living being, the death energy in its body accumulates until it becomes too much to bear."

  "That’s why even the sky seemed filled with death!" Laura exclaimed.

  "Precisely." Horace nodded. "This device is modeled after a legendary relic, the Soul Prism, said to hold the essence of necromancy…which, by the way, the Wizard Order believes is real.”

  Marcus and Laura exchanged glances. "This is the first time I hear about a Soul Prism," Marcus said.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Not surprising. The five Prisms have been lost since the Great Enigma, and even the few who’ve read about them believe them to be legends. Granny thinks so, too, but the Order’s Archmages seemed adamant, so they might know something more. If the legends are to be believed, the last known location of the Prism was here, in the northern part of this continent. In fact, that’s one of the reasons why the Curse was unleashed here. They hoped that the Prism would react with the Curse’s energy, allowing them to locate it, but that didn’t happen. Therefore, they’re forced to rely on the fake Prism they’ve engineered, even though maintaining it takes a staggering amount of resources."

  "So, the Curse was created just to locate this Soul Prism?" Boney asked.

  "Granny wasn’t privy to everything, but finding the Soul Prism was definitely part of the reason. The other part was Arakataron’s magnum opus; a massive necromantic ritual said to give him access to a powerful weapon.”

  “I can confirm that,” Laura said. “He’s been working on that ritual non-stop since the Curse’s inception. Many Order members are unhappy about it."

  "For fifty years?" Jerry looked up at the dark sky, where black streams flowed in all directions like dresses in the wind. "Doesn’t he miss the sun at all?"

  "I guess not. In any case, the Order has stubbornly maintained that fake Prism for fifty years, enshrouding our land in the Curse. They’ve even built a defensive complex around it, a place they call the Prism Dungeon. To break the Curse, we just have to raid that dungeon, destroy the Prism, and then the death energy will naturally dissipate over a few months."

  "What, just that?" Marcus’s eyes narrowed. "There has to be a catch. Otherwise, the Archmages of the Wizard Tower would easily infer the situation, then waltz in here and destroy that fake Prism. They antagonize the Wizard Order."

  "They could…but, to those assholes, going to war over the already ruined Dead Lands is not worth it." He spat on the deck. "The Wizard Tower is not kind, just less evil than the Order. Bastards, the lot of them."

  "I don’t buy it. If we can do it, plenty of people can."

  Horace gave him a level stare. "I don’t think you understand how special Jerry is, treasure hunter… Not to mention that this information is extremely taboo. I am not playing you for a fool."

  Marcus narrowed his eyes, while Jerry giggled.

  "Thanks for the compliment, Horace. So, there is no catch?"

  "No, there is one; it just doesn’t affect us." The death spirit smirked. "The fake Prism was created by Arakataron himself, the only person in the world capable of doing so. If we destroyed it, he could just recreate it before the Curse has time to dissipate. We would have achieved nothing except incurring some material cost for the Order."

  "Unless Arakataron couldn’t repair it," Boney mused. Laura chuckled. "If he was dead, for example."

  "Exactly!" Horace smiled widely, clenching his fist. "Assassinating Arakataron was already our goal. If we destroy that fake Prism, too, we can break the Curse!"

  "That’s amazing!" Jerry pumped a fist. "I told you I could lift the Curse!"

  Horace laughed. "That remains to be seen, my friend."

  Laura, however, cupped her chin. "That Prism sounds like a device of massive power, and Arakataron’s ritual, whatever it is, must be highly complex as well. I doubt those two are anywhere near each other, or there would be serious interference. We probably have to get them one by one."

  "Fine by me." Jerry laughed. "So, what should we go for first? Arakataron or the fake Prism?"

  "Arakataron, of course! Otherwise, he’ll definitely know we broke it and will be ready to fight us," Horace said.

  "Actually," Laura said, winking at Horace, "I have a different idea."

  "Oh?"

  "I’ve heard some things about Arakataron. He’s arrogant, but he’s also constantly surrounded by a large squad of death knights. Getting past them to ambush him will be difficult."

  "So? What do you suggest?"

  "Well, Arakataron is obsessed with his project, to the point where he even refuses to see most guests. If he senses that someone is attacking the fake Prism, do you think he will go there himself?"

  "No!" Boney said. "He’ll send his death knights!"

  "Exactly!" She smiled. "He’ll send a good number of death knights over, then forget about the issue to keep working. Remember, he’s arrogant, and a necromancer’s detection abilities are second to none so he won’t be afraid. Then, if we somehow manage to escape his death knights and attack him while they’re away, a large part of his power will be missing. Maybe we’ll have a chance."

  "So, we should use the fake Prism as a diversion?" Horace asked, cupping his chin.

  "Yes. It’s risky, of course, but I think our chances of success will be higher than facing his entire army of death knights. Approaching him unnoticed is almost impossible, anyway."

  Marcus narrowed his eyes, simultaneously looking down to keep the landmarks in mind and adjust their course. "That’s some very specific information you have there, Laura… Just how high-ranking were you in the Wizard Order?"

  "Not at all, but my parents were very," she replied.

  "Laura’s smart. I say we go with her plan," Jerry said.

  "I agree with Master."

  "I trust you too," Horace said, nodding. "You have my bow."

  Axehand raised an axe.

  "And my undead!" Jerry said, laughing. "We make a great team."

  "We’re all agreed," Marcus concluded. "So, where is that fake Prism, Horace?"

  "I have no idea," he replied with a straight face. Everyone gazed at him incredulously, and he held their gazes for a good few seconds before adding, "but Jerry should be able to sense its location, according to Granny."

  "Hmm? Sense it?"

  Jerry looked around, then closed his eyes and focused on his soul. He spread it out as far as he could, sensing the souls of everyone on-board and another mutated goat below. He felt a tentacle monster too, a mindless, beastly creature lurking in a wide crevice.

  Even Birb’s soul was within his detection range, though it flew far ahead of the airship to detect danger. Birb played an extremely important role in protecting them from mishaps.

  Huh. I’ve gotten stronger again, haven’t I?

  Last time he’d tried this, his range had been shorter.

  However, despite sensing all these creatures, Jerry could sense no Curs—

  Wait. What’s that?

  Something tickled the back of his mind. Something wasn’t quite right. He doubled down on his soul perception, investigating a patch of empty air, and there it was! A ripple flowing through his soul, so tiny he wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t this close and specifically looking for it.

  It spread over the airship and everyone, into their bodies, over the ground below, and into every crevice. Jerry could sense its direction. It was coming from somewhere. His finger was already pointing there before he opened his eyes.

  "Found it," he said. "There are ripples coming from there."

  The direction he pointed at was slightly to the left of their current course, raising a couple of brows.

  "Shouldn’t the fake Prism be at the center of the Mists?" Marcus asked. His question made sense, and nobody seemed to have a good answer.

  "Maybe we’re off-course." Jerry shrugged.

  "We wouldn’t be. I was keeping watch."

  "Well, the source of the Curse is in that direction."

  Laura frowned. "That’s odd. If the fake Prism is not at the center, Arakataron’s ritual probably is. In any case, I don’t think navigation will be a problem. If the two are anywhere near each other, Jerry should be able to sense the magic fluctuations and guide us."

  "He can do that?" Marcus asked.

  "I can do that?" Jerry asked.

  "Yes…"

  "Excellent." Horace stepped in. "Now, let’s get going before these tentacle monsters learn to fly."

  "Would that be unfortunate," Boney said with a cluckle. Marcus barked some orders, the Billies turned the sails, and the ship slowly turned as well. Jerry kept his eyes closed as he constantly sensed the ripples, guiding them better than any landmark could.

  Gradually, the ripples grew stronger. As the hours passed, they approached the Prism Dungeon.