Vibrant green grass rustled around Nadran's ankles as he walked through the Viora Plains, the wind causing the green stalks to sway back and forth in an orchestrated dance. This beautiful scene seemed to be wasted on Firen, however.
"Ugh, I'm so bored," he complained with a pained expression. "How much longer until we reach Asden?"
"We've been walking for three days, so… about two more days," Nadran responded blithely, shrugging.
"Two more days of just walking and nothing else? We haven't even been attacked by monsters or bandits or anything!"
"That's a good thing," Nadran countered through gritted teeth. [Is he trying to curse us or something? It's not like every inch of this world is filled with danger and excitement. Besides, the only hills here are pretty small, it would be fairly hard for something dangerous to sneak up on us out in the open. I feel like he has a distorted view of what the wilderness is like; he has probably lived a fairly sheltered life.]
Shaking his head, Nadran focused back on the direction he was walking, only to stop in place. "When did this fog get here?" he asked in bewilderment. What had seconds before been a sunny day had suddenly transformed into a sky filled with fog, plunging their surroundings into a hazy darkness.
Everyone looked around, wondering how they could have missed such an obvious transition. The surrounding landscape, which had just looked warm and inviting, now looked dark and foreboding. An invisible pressure seemed to permeate the air, setting everyone on edge. Everyone, that is, except Nadran.
"What is that ringing sound?" Nadran asked in confusion, trying to pinpoint the source of the bell-like chime that was sounding in his ear. It sounded vaguely dissonant, and yet, paradoxically, it also felt calming and familiar.
"What sound? I don't hear anything," Firen responded.
"Neither do I," Icina added. "Are you sure you aren't just hearing things… Wha-?!"
Startled by the sudden outburst, everyone followed her line of vision, only to find that Nadran… had become transparent. The ground was faintly visible through his body, giving the impression that he had transformed into mist.
Nadran was oblivious to their surprise, however, as he found himself mesmerized by the soft ringing sound, the voices of his companions fading into the fog until he could no longer hear them. This shift was not what drew his attention, though. What attracted his eyes was the elaborate altar that had suddenly materialized before him. Everything around him was obscured by dense fog, save for a path leading from him to the steps of the obsidian altar.
Nadran found himself stepping forward, disturbing the mist that had surrounded his feet. The fog had formed a thick, almost solid layer just above the ground, to the point where he could no longer see the ground at all. As he walked toward the intricately carved altar, the mist swirled in response to his movement, giving him the impression that he was walking on darkened clouds. His surroundings had fallen completely silent, save for the metallic ringing sound that blanketed the area just as thoroughly as the mist.
Nadran paid no heed to the ethereal nature of his surroundings, however, his attention focused entirely on the altar as he approached it in a trance-like state. The construct was made out of a solid block of material that resembled obsidian, with faint red and purple swirls that seemed to drift about within it, as though the stone itself was alive. Elaborate runic engravings were placed across the altar in a symmetrical pattern, faintly pulsing with a bluish light. This all merely served as a foil to the centerpiece, however, where an unusual weapon rested.
A broad curved blade marked the head of the weapon, the inside of the curve forming a razor-sharp edge that looked as deadly as if it had just been carefully sharpened the day before. The blade did not appear to be made of metal, but rather the same strange stone that composed the altar. A handle extended perpendicularly from the base of the blade, giving the appearance of a scythe. This handle seemed to be cut short, however, with the bottommost segment being replaced by a thick chain. The entire weapon seemed to convey in equal measure senses of majesty and mystery, and a small but constant stream of mist seeped out of every part of the stone that composed the unusual scythe.
Nadran looked at the enigmatic weapon, feeling quite certain that he had never seen anything like this in his entire life. Despite this, he could not shake the strong sense of familiarity he felt when he gazed at this weapon. Suddenly, he realized he was reaching out for the scythe, his hand settling naturally on the handle.
The stone of the handle was cool to the touch, and the instant his fingers came in contact with it, the ringing sound that had permeated the air abruptly stopped. Shortly after, a softer sound appeared that Nadran swore resembled a sigh of contentment. Nadran picked up the weapon, looking deeply at it as though asking it for answers. Unbeknownst to him, the altar vanished as soon as he lifted up the scythe, and the surrounding mist gradually faded away before revealing the gently rolling hills of his surroundings.
Meanwhile, Icina and the others stood router in place, staring at the place where Nadran vanished right before their eyes, fading away into nothingness like a ghost. Shortly after he vanished, the strange mist disappeared, too. Every person stood there silently, the thoughts of each unbeknownst to the others. This lasted for a few minutes, everyone processing in different ways the inexplicable scene they had just witnessed.
"Ah?!" The silence was finally broken by Firen's exclamation, prompting everyone to look in the direction he was pointing. A faint distortion in the air had appeared nearby, and a small amount of mist appeared to be emitting from it. Slowly, the mist began to form a human shape, then Nadran's form began fading into existence in much the same way as it has vanished just a few minutes ago. Soon, Nadran was standing before them once more, holding a strange black weapon in his hands.
Firen was the first to break the silence once again. "Woah! How did you do that? Are you a ghost? Where did you get that weapon? Can you make me invisible, too? Why-Ow!". Firen's outburst was cut short by a sharp rap to the top of his head by his frustrated sister.
Lowering her hand, Icina took a deep breath to calm herself before focusing her gaze on Nadran, who was looking at the scythe in his hands with a perplexed expression on his face. "So," she began, attempting to gather her thoughts. "What exactly… happened just now?"
Nadran looked up from the weapon to Icina wryly, before responding "Would you believe me if I said… I don't know?"
Icina appeared taken aback by this response. "Then, uh…" she tried again. "What's up with that scythe thing?"
"Oh, you mean Wraith?" Nadran responded. "I found it in this weird-" Nadran's eyes abruptly widened as he looked back down at the chain scythe in his hands in confusion.
"Wraith?" Icina questioned. "Is that what you named that weapon?"
Nadran looked back up at Icina with a strained smile. "…No?"
'WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'NO'?!" Icina shouted angrily, balling up her hands into fists. Upon seeing everyone staring at her in surprise at her uncharacteristic outburst, however, she blushed fiercely before loudly clearing her throat. "Ahem, what I meant to say was, could you elaborate on what you meant when you said that you did not name that weapon 'Wraith'?"
Nadran scratched his head awkwardly. "Well, its name IS Wraith, but I'm not the one who named it. It's more that… I just know that its name is Wraith."
"Wha?" Icina replied blankly. "You mean, the name is written on it somewhere?"
"No, it's not," Nadran responded with a sigh. "It's more like.. "
Meanwhile, Rethara stood near the back of the group, the shock on her face impossible to miss for anyone who chose to look her way. "Impossible…" she muttered under her breath, her eyes focused on the weapon Nadran now held. "How did it end up here?"
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As a myriad of stars blinked in the sky, Nadran sat watch next to the dying embers of a small campfire, trying to untangle his complex thoughts and feelings while he gently brushed his fingers along the cool, smooth surface of Wraith. [How can it be that I know I've never seen this weapon before, and yet at the same time, I feel like I've reunited with a long-lost friend? Also, it seems like it called me over to it specifically, over anyone else who was right next to me. Nobody else even saw the altar where I got Wraith from. Wraith, what are you, and what is your connection to me?]
The chain scythe did not respond, however, leaving Nadran to his restlessly wandering thoughts as he awaited the coming of dawn.