His fingers sunk into the folds of his cloak and fished out a small vial. He turned, tossing the glass vessel at me. My hand shot up and caught it just before it slipped past my fingertips.
The substance inside the vial was more alive than liquid. Streaks of smoke spiraled from the azure fluid trapped in glass. I held it at eye level, inspecting it.
"Drink it," the man said, the words sharper than the scythe strapped across his back.
My face crumpled, and I glared at the stranger.
"Look, if you want to die here, be my guest," he said with a heavy sigh.
My head reeled back.
"What is this poison?"
"Why would that be poison? It's a dose of Glider's Draught," his voice cracked. "You think you can make it to the harbor on foot?"
Harbor?
"We're setting sail?" I asked.
"We don't have time! Just drink it already!"
If we were going somewhere safer than this hellhole, I'd be more than grateful. However, doubt clouded my mind.
I gnashed my teeth. With brows furrowed, I uncorked the vial and brought it to my lips. I spat out the fluid as soon as a negligible portion agitated my tongue.
"Hey, don't spill it! You have any idea how long it takes to brew these?
The fluid's taste outmatched its vicious odor. I tilted the vial and gulped down its contents, the bitterness burning at the back of my throat. I barely had time to wince before my stomach twisted. The ground rippled beneath my feet as each and every nerve jolted. My sight sharpened. I felt... lighter.
Before I could even make sense of the effect, a rough hand grabbed my shoulder. "This way."
The scarred man leapt onto a nearby spire, as steep as the edge of a spearhead.
I looked down the ledge. The distance between me and the ground sank further than I could observe. My pulse quickened. I set one foot back and pushed the other with every ounce of might, imitating his maneuvers. In an instant, I swept across the distance, cleaving through the air.
My boots scraped against the tiles, settling on them as my fist sprung up.
"There's no reason to celebrate," he said, witnessing the grin of victory that spread across my cheeks.
We jumped and rushed through the ancient rooftops, crossing towers, gables, and pinnacles. I glided near him, the faint rustle of his billowing cloak guiding me deeper into the city's heart. We fluttered above the stone figures of menacing gargoyles. I also noticed the refined statues of dragons, European ones, and even rows of human skulls carved into the gothic architecture. Giant statues of vampires stood proud with a watchful stance like the city's guardian. The labyrinth of towering structures seemed alive, hinting at movements that teased my eyes.
I focused on him and on the path he paved, his steps almost weightless. I mimicked him as much as I could, occasionally stumbling as we rode on. After what seemed like a minute or two, I swore we had traveled for at least ten miles, maybe twenty, before we touched the ground. I glanced behind one last time, stealing glimpses of the twisted network of stone giants we left behind. The man yanked my shoulder, reminding me time was of essence. We weaved through the winding streets and into an expanse of barren land, solemnly marked with crooked houses. A dying breeze welcomed us as we arrived at the edge of the land.
We reached the harbor. The once-grand structures and cobbled streets had given way to a decrepit harbor, its edges crumbling into the inky blackness of the water. It was like staring into an abyss, a shroud of fog across the almost still surface.
Before I could spout a question, he had led me to a small, weathered boat moored at the end of the dock. The wood was worn and splintered, as if the nails were barely holding together. It floated with an eerie resilience, as if defying its own nature. He stepped in first, offering neither reassurance nor any commands but an unwavering, silent expectation that I would follow.
I stepped in, staring at him, but his gaze was fixed ahead. His scythe slept across his back like a dormant beast. He grabbed an ancient oar and threw one at me. The wood creaked under our grips as we pushed off from the harbor. The boat slid into the thick fog, drifting across the still water that seemed to absorb all sound.
For what felt like hours, we floated, blanketed in the fog. My vision wavered, even with the heightened senses the potion had granted me. I squinted, trying to penetrate through the thickening haze, but it was futile. The misty empire swallowed any sense of distance or direction. Even the faint rowing of the oar against the water felt muted, devoured by the sea.
At last, the fog began to show mercy, peeling away its most of its forsaken veils. My breath hitched as I took in the sight. The sky was a void of stars, just like the damned Void. But it wore a coat of heavy gray that stretched beyond my vision. And then I saw it—a black moon puncturing the sky. Its edges were wispy with dark tendrils, as if it would devour any feeble light that dared approach it.