Page 78 of Mountains of Mist and Magic

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Grayden was deeply troubled. The mist had thickened, obscuring everything beyond a few inches from his eyes. He sat on the deck, Renya beside him, their companions huddled close, watching out for each other in the impenetrable fog.

“It's been three hours,” Renya whispered, her breath warm against his ear. “I don't think this will pass on its own. We need to talk to Triston and find out what he remembers about the mist from before.”

Grayden agreed, but hesitated to broach the subject. Triston's distress was palpable, and he didn't want to unman him while they were all trapped on the ship.

“Fine. I'll do it,” Renya answered, correctly sensing his reluctance through their bond.

“Triston?” Renya called out, her voice cutting through the thick silence.

His voice drifted from the left, halfway across the ship. “What is it?”

“We need to know what you remember about the mist as a child.”

Silence enveloped them, the ethereal veil of mist pressing in. Then, Triston spoke, his voice strained.

“We thought it was weather-related. If I had known we would run into it again, I never would have—”

“It's okay, son,” Cyrus interjected. Grayden's eyes instinctively searched for his father-in-law, but the mist rendered his efforts futile. “We'll figure a way out of it. Renya, can you use your magic to see if perhaps it will part it?”

“It's...I can't.” Renya's voice trembled with frustration.

“What's wrong?” Grayden asked, reaching for her hand in the fog.

“It's like there's a ribbon wrapping around me and keeping it inside.”

“Mine's the same.” Julietta's voice echoed across the deck from Triston's vicinity.

Cyrus sighed heavily. “Mine too. I was hoping I was just stretched too far from all the magic I'm using to keep the Sun Realm cloaked and to keep your mother from doing something she shouldn't.”

Grayden scratched his chin, a sudden realization dawning. “When was the last time we saw her or Beauty?”

“Oh no,” Renya gasped. “Beauty!” she bellowed. “Come here, girl!”

Silence answered her call. No eager dragon rushed forth for scratches and pets.

“They must be lost in the mist, too,” Cyrus said, his tone grave.

Grayden couldn't see Renya, but instantly felt her worry and fear pulsing through their bond.Beauty will be okay, Little Fawn, he thought, trying to soothe her.

“How long did the mist last before, Triston?” Phillippe called out.

“Several days. We couldn't find a way through it. And when we finally did—we hit something.”

Grayden suppressed a groan, knowing this information would only heighten the others' fears—especially Esmeralda's, who was already struggling.

“Does anyone have any ideas?” Grayden asked, desperate for a solution.

The deck fell silent, save for tiny sounds: someone rubbing another's shoulders; deep inhales and exhales; even the faint sound of a whimper.

“I just wish we could see each other,” Esmeralda said, her voice thick with unshed tears.

“Well, staying in one spot is doing us no good,” Agatha declared, her voice moving towards the helm. “We should just pick a direction and go.”

“Absolutely not,” Triston argued, his boots thudding on the deck as he moved. “We don't know what's out there.”

“We can't stay here, idly floating in the middle of the ocean!” Phillippe countered, his voice rising.

---