The fog of the midnight air seemed to swallow Elías as he wandered aimlessly through the night, the cold, crisp air clinging to his skin like damp cloth.
Behind Elías, the village's faint, flickering glow of candlelight faded as it was consumed by the heavy mist.
Despite this Elías kept walking, his steps unsteady, and his mind a storm of emotions;
A mix of Anger, Shame, Betrayal and Confusion taunting him like those from his village. Each breath he took felt heavier than the last, the memory's of what he'd just seen in the cottage, still echoing in the back of his mind.
Elías's hands wrapped tightly around the scroll, as he pressed it tightly against his chest, a fragile promise of something long lost, something Elías felt he was destined to uncover. It was the only thing that felt real now, the only thing that made sense in this twisted world.
.. His Father, Camellia, and the rest of the villagers;
they were now nothing more than shadows of a life he was desperate to leave behind.
As he continued to walk, the fog thickened, like tendrils of white clouds swirling around him; It was then that Elías realized he had gone too far, for he could no longer see the village's glow behind him.
He had crossed into the border of the unknown.
With each step he took the village elders' warnings echoed in his mind:
"Never pass the reach of the mist, for Monsters roam beyond its reach!"*,
they had always said. Blood thirsty creatures, waiting to devour all those who strayed too far from home.
…But Elias didn't care, he welcomed his death, and the unknown.
**Let the monsters come!** he thought bitterly. **Hell, at least they would do me a favor, and grant me a swift death.**
Suddenly, the ground beneath Elias's feet gave way.
His foot had slipped, and before he could react, he was tumbling down a steep incline, as he clung desperately to his piece of parchment.
Branches and stones scratched at his arms and legs, the world spinning as he continued to fall…
Within seconds, he hit the bottom of the hill hard, landing in a shallow riverbed with a splash. The cold water soaked through his clothes in seconds, as the shock of the fall stole away his breath.
For a moment, he laid there, staring up at the fog-choked sky, gasping for air.
Then suddenly, he realized.. it was gone.
"My scroll!.. I Can't believe it, I dropped the scroll! Please God don't let it be in the water!" He cried as he scrambled to his knees, frantically patting his chest, But it was of no use.. *The scroll was gone.*
Panic surged through him. He scanned the ground around him, and in the murky water, his heart pounding relentlessly.
..Then, he saw it; Across the riverbed, lying on a patch of soft, wet earth, the scroll rested gently upon the ground, unscathed by the fall.
As Elías looked closer at the ground around the scroll, he blinked in disbelief, momentarily stunned by what he had found.
"Is this **Pure Clay?** Here, right in front of me?"
He had never known there was a river so close to the village, let alone one with such rich, vibrant clay along its banks. The elders.. there's no way they know What else had they hidden from him?
He waded through the water, his steps careful but urgent. The clay was slick beneath his feet, the river's current pulling at him. When he reached the other side, he dropped to his knees, grabbing the scroll with trembling hands. Relief washed over him as he checked it, the parchment slightly damp but intact.
As he looked around, the clay caught his attention again. It was a deep patch of dark-green, to ashen-gray clay pulling out from the riverbed. Elías watched as it glistened softly under the moonlight, untouched by the footprints of beasts, or the tools of man.
Something about it felt... right. He remembered the recipe's instructions:
The need for special clay, pure and untouched. Could this be it? Could this hidden place, shrouded by fog and fear, be where the ingredients he needed had been hiding all along?
He ran his fingers through the clay, feeling its texture. It was soft, pliable, yet dense. Perfect for shaping. Perfect for creating pottery.
The mist curled around him, but Elías no longer felt afraid. The river, the clay, the scroll, ..it all felt like fate.
The elders had tried to keep him from this place, from this discovery...
But now, standing on the edge of the unknown, he felt something he had never felt before: *A purpose to exist!*
With the scroll safe, once more in his grasp, and the clay at his feet, Elías knew.. This was where his true work would begin.