Nexin stepped out of from the house they’d spent the night in, the thick wall of grey fog immediately surrounding him. So thick he could barely make out the dark stone of the building behind him, even his own feet were swallowed by the mist. No sound reached his ears, and everything was completely still.

  A moment of vertigo swept over him—up, down, left, and right holding no real meaning—and he had to focus on the feel of his feet on the road. If he let himself, he could easily imagine he wasn’t in the center of a major city, but instead in some sort of formless limbo.

  “I’ve never seen fog like this,” Sol said from behind Nexin.

  “Must’ve rolled in while we were sleeping,” Nexin answered, his own voice dulled by the thick cloud around him.

  “It’s going to make finding the Ember’s resting spot more difficult,” Sol said.

  Nexin turned, barely able to make out the other man’s silhouette. “Let’s try from above.” Nexin ignited his wings at the same time he spoke, the flaming appendages spreading a warm glow refracting through the mist. After experiencing the storm and how it’d affected his magic, he paused for a few heartbeats to feel if… no, nothing. Just normal fog.

  If normal was something so thick, he could practically swim in it.

  Beside him, a blue glow joined his orange, the mist growing heavier as it froze from the proximity to Sol’s frigid magic.

  “Let’s go,” Nexin said, leaping straight up. With his feet separated from the ground, it suddenly really did feel like a formless limbo where direction made no difference. One second turned to two as he flew, long enough to wonder if he was actually going in the right direction. Three seconds. Four… five… did he get turned around?

  He looked up—or was it down?—to find a blanket of mist. To the sides, only the orange glow of his own wings. Sol’s blue was nowhere to be seen. Had he really gotten turned around? Should he…? Nexin shook his head and simply kept going. Another second later, he burst free from the thick fog to find a clear, blue sky waiting in greeting.

  Beneath him was an impenetrable sheet of white, as if he was standing above the clouds, with only the top third of the great, egg-shaped library visible above it. As for the rest of the city—nothing. It’d all been enveloped in the fog.

  Movement to his side, and Nexin spun in time to see Sol burst up from the fog, mist trailing his wings. The other man rose until he was fifteen feet above the layer of white, then spread his wings wide and hovered in place. Slowly rotating, he took in the scene the same way Nexin had, then just shook his head.

  “It’s kind of incredible, isn’t it?” Nexin said.

  “If I didn’t know there was a city directly beneath us, I would never suspect it,” Sol said.

  “Yeah. So, how are we going to do this? Think it’ll burn off later in the day?” Nexin asked, looking at the sea of white spread below him. Hrm, what about the actual sea? Turning in the air, he checked where he expected to find an expanse of blue. Nope, more fog. So far, he couldn’t even see an end to it. Parts of it ebbed and flowed slightly, as if something huge moved within, but that was probably just his imagination. Or the wind.

  “It might,” Sol said, pulling Nexin’s attention back from the shifting fog. “Or it might not. The climate may still be recovering from the storm. Or, perhaps it was changed entirely from the centuries of snow.”

  “In other words, we have no idea what’s going to happen,” Nexin said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Searching from above isn’t going to do anything for us, unless the Ember goes in the library. The Ember doesn’t go in the library, right?” Nexin asked.

  “Not… that I’m aware of,” Sol said. “When I was here last time, there was no Ember, so I didn’t bother looking for its shrine. It wasn’t important. In hindsight, it would’ve been helpful.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Nexin said, eyeing the egg-shaped building. “If this city is like the other places we found Embers, the shrine needs to be open to the sky. So, it’s probably not inside the library, though it might be on top. Let’s split up?”

  “That sounds like the best plan. We have a lot of ground to cover. From here, why don’t you take the north, including the library? The docks should be a mile or so east of that. This city started as a small port town, so it’s possible the shrine sprang up early around there,” Sol said. “I’ll go south from here, towards where their university is… under all of this.” His hand waved generally at the thick fog.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Sounds good. Keep in touch through the communicators?” Nexin suggested. Even without flame armor, Sol had managed to sync his magic with theirs, letting him piggyback on their communication magic.

  “Of course,” Sol said. “Try not to fly into any buildings. They used excellent stone here.”

  “Noted,” Nexin replied flatly.

  With that, Sol rose up, then gently swooped down to soar away just inches above the fog, his wings trailing lines in the mist as he went. A few seconds more, and he descended into the mist to fade completely from view.

  Nexin didn’t move immediately—only kind of waiting for a loud thud to echo, but nothing came—so he turned his attention to the library. From what he knew of the other cities, it wasn’t common for nations to move their shrines. Almost every one he’d read about had left the shrine where it was originally built, but there was at least one exception to that.

  Which meant there could be a second.

  One more glance around at the still fog—even the moving currents along the sea had stopped—and Nexin pushed power into his wings to soar straight for the library roof. Aside from the mist below him, the day was a beautiful one, with the sun beaming down on his back, and he reached the rooftop within thirty seconds. The egg-shaped building had a wide balcony ringing it near the top, complete with stone tables similar to what he’d found in the house where they’d slept. The remains of potted plants stood at equal intervals, and the stone had even been carved to provide shade to some of the seating. Other sections had what appeared to be small lecture theatres, with stadium seating and a raised dais near the front.

  No shrine for an Ember, though.

  The only other thing that stood out extended from an opening in the very top of the egg. It looked like the end of a massive-looking glass, the exterior lens easily as wide as he was tall. No, wider. He’d read about something like that. What was it called…? Right, a telescope.

  The opening, though, where the telescope could move, would’ve let the snow in. No way they wouldn’t have closed that as soon as Sol’s storm hit them.

  Which means somebody was here after the snow melted. Are they still inside?

  Nexin shifted in the air, part of him wanting to go down and check. If he found a… a survivor, they could probably tell him where the shrine was. On the other hand, the roof of the library could’ve been open for months—maybe even years. Whoever had opened it might be long gone, and he’d just be wasting time better spent finding the shrine.

  No, he’d come back and check after they returned the Ember.

  But where to go next? The bank of fog beneath him might as well have been solid ground for how well he could see through it. There weren’t even the silhouettes of buildings to give him an idea how far down the street was. Sol’s advice not to fly into a building was suddenly less sarcastic and more useful.

  Sure, he could drop down slowly, and his feet would land on something eventually, but it wouldn’t give him a place to start. Worse, from down in the fog, he wouldn’t be able to use the library or distant mountains as landmarks. There’d be no way to tell which direction east was, assuming Sol’s insight into where the shrine might be was accurate.

  Nexin’s head turned in that direction, out towards where the sea had to be extending off into the distance. His best bet was to come at the land from the other side. Fly far out to sea, circle back with the library directly ahead of him, then drop into the fog. As long as he was careful, he’d find the docks before he found the side of a warehouse.

  Probably.

  Plan decided, Nexin lined himself up with the library at his back, then shot to the east. Sol had said the port was about a mile away, but Nexin flew what he estimated to be more than half that again. Comfortable he was about half a mile off shore, Nexin lowered himself down to the top of the fog, a muted, constant sound coming up to meet him.

  Water—waves—making way to shore. And… there was something else in there too. Like, a rhythmic slapping. Waves against rocks? No, something about that wasn’t quite right.

  Nexin continued to lower himself down until everything below his waist vanished within the fog, leaving just his spread wings and top half floating above. The sound was louder—of course—but it wasn’t right beneath him. Where…? The fog made it almost impossible to tell, the waves echoing slightly within the thick mist.

  His eyes scanned along the top of the fog bank as he strained his ears, listening for the slapping—trying to figure out where it was. It was impossible; he just couldn’t… he stopped. Something was different about the fog thirty or forty feet from where he hovered. It wasn’t drastic—and he never would’ve noticed it if he wasn’t just above the top level—but there was something like a bump. Even a bump wasn’t the right way to describe it. A long, narrow section of fog moved differently.

  While the rest of the massive bank moved like a solid mass at a constant speed, there, where he now stared, it flowed like it was passing over something.

  A ship? The size was right.

  Keeping his eye on the shifting fog, Nexin floated over until he was right in the midst of it, the mist moving around him even as he dipped his hand in and out of it. Closing his eyes and focusing on his ears, he… yes. Yes, whatever the slapping was, it was right below him.

  If it’s a ship, it has a sail. Have to be careful not to set it on fire with my wings.

  A quick look gave him a good estimation of where the back of the ship would be—if that was what it even was at all—and he glided over to it before letting himself slowly drop into the fog. Solid white replaced the blue sky almost immediately, and the sound of moving water filled his ears. Not wanting to go off course, he left gravity do most of the work, more falling than flying, and the repetitive slapping grew closer and closer.

  Long seconds passed as he continued to drop—so much so he expected his feet to get wet any time—but dark shadow materialized in front of him. Stretching off into the distance to vanish again in the thick fog, Nexin arrested his descent, then glided towards the shape.

  It’ll be oddly embarrassing if this is just a docked ship. Or a small island.

  It wasn’t, and Nexin paused as his eyes settled on the massive back end of what looked like a ship. Except—he floated closer and extended his hand to run his fingers against the surface—it wasn’t made of wood.

  It was made of thick, almost armor-like metal.