In the Violence Layer, there were three distinct rings. Between the first and second rings lay a thick wall of fog - so dense it looked more like a barrier than mist.
Erica and her group had reached that very threshold. The frigid air spilling from the fog lashed at her face, making her shiver uncontrollably. She'd always been poor at enduring the cold, and now, clad in nothing but thin clothes, she feared her body might stiffen up long before she faced any enemy.
And yet, something about this fog felt… wrong. It looked denser and far colder than Halcyon had described. From the outside, there was nothing to see - just fog, endless fog. It was like staring at a wall of white. Worse, she could sense something else - some force threading its way through that mist.
"You're trembling so hard. Scared already?" Lars sneered, baring a sharp grin.
"A beast covered in thick fur like you wouldn't understand," Erica muttered under her breath - but of course, he heard her.
"This fur isn't something just any mutt gets to have," he said, lifting his chin, all puffed-up pride.
Oh, really? Let me shear it off and make myself a warm coat.
"This is the place Lady Lacey marked out," Ortgard cleared his throat, pulling their focus back. "And it's also where we discovered the anomaly a few days ago."
"Hmm… I do sense something off about it, even though I've never set foot here before," Erica said, pressing herself tighter against Lars's warm fur. "Where's Lacey now?"
"She's in an area similar to this one, close to the Phlegethon River," Ortgard gestured behind them, toward the old man Terwan's village. "But there's no fog there - just a transparent barrier."
…So there are two sites, then?
Wait a second…
"So the place we're standing now and where Lacey is - they're symmetrical, with Terwan's village right in the middle?" Her brow furrowed, a faint worry flickering behind her eyes.
"That's right." Ortgard looked mildly surprised she'd caught on so quickly.
Lars could see the change in Erica's face - how it darkened, how her eyes clouded over with that look she only wore when dredging up scraps of forbidden rites from old tomes.
"You remembered something about that ritual, didn't you?" he asked, cautious.
"Seems so. I read it so long ago, I couldn't place it at first."
The Drenifice Ritual.
One of the old rites to sacrifice demons in exchange for a passage back to the mortal realm - devised by Elmer, one of the early leaders of the rebel order. Later, the Darker ancestors had seized most of his magic and locked it away in the Darker library. The rest had been lost to time.
In truth, the ritual was deceptively simple: gather nine weak hellspawn from the Nine Layers of Hell. Split them between two sites, dividing the space into twin magical poles. Between those poles, a gateway would rip open the veil separating the mortal realm from Hell.
Simple, perhaps, but the sheer amount of power it demanded was monstrous. Worse still, whoever performed the ritual had to sustain a stable flow of base magic for a long stretch before the sacrifice could begin. Lose focus, and the spell would collapse - misaligning the portal, or worse, dragging the conjurer straight into the abyss.
But how did they even know about it?
That knowledge was supposed to be long lost.
"They must have set the ritual in motion about a year ago," Erica murmured, mind turning to the thought that Jarrak might be the final sacrifice.
"Unbelievable! They fooled us that easily," Ortgard spat, anger sharp in his voice.
Erica kept her face buried in Lars's thick fur, but her eyes were fixed on the swirling, filthy whiteness ahead - as if she could already see something vile writhing in the dark beyond.
"No, Ortgard," she said softly, her voice cold enough to chill bone. "They didn't fool anyone. No one in their right mind would attempt this ritual - it's too dangerous. It can destroy the summoner if even a single step is wrong.
Either they're desperate enough to gamble everything… or they have someone backing them."
"Backing them?" Ortgard's brow creased. "Hmph! A plausible theory. I've had my suspicions about that old fox Terwan. He acts like an idle drunk, but his mind's always working."
"Maybe so. But he's probably not the one who handed them the ritual."
Erica pulled away from Lars, reaching out to touch the fog. Icy needles bit into her skin the moment she brushed it - like pressing her fingers against a blade.
Mist clung to her hand. For a moment, she felt hundreds of tiny threads of magic twining around her wrist. She jerked her hand back at once.
"Damn… it's freezing," she hissed. "Did you send anyone inside to scout?" she asked Ortgard.
"I did. A few went in… none came back out. Now all we can do is surround it and watch - we can't risk any more lives."
"Yeah… I see some faint shadows drifting out there," Erica narrowed her eyes, scanning the gloom. "Lars, do you smell anything?"
"Sorry - nothing…" Lars sniffed the air, frustrated.
Erica knew they had to act now. The text she'd read said the nine demons' souls would be incinerated, paving a one-way road back to the mortal realm. Their souls erased forever - no rebirth, no return to Hell.
Not if we could help it.
"Lars, take this bag," she said, slipping it off her shoulder and looping it around his neck. "Inside is a fire orb - it'll burn through the fog. I'm going in alone to find the sacrifice site. The conjurers will be there too. Once I locate it, I'll throw my hunting knife into the air - that's your cue to drop the orb from above and charge in with the whole team. Got it?"
"What!? You're going in there alone? Are you insane? If you die, I'm not dragging your corpse back!" Lars shouted, panicking.
Dumb Lars - of all the things to worry about!
"How long have you been with me and you're still fussing like this? It's too much."
"Fine, go on, then - just don't come crying to me when you get yourself killed!" Lars morphed into Erica's likeness, his body no longer the monstrous shape that used to spook Sagrite.
"Oh! If you hear any lullaby-like chanting, Ortgard, order everyone to cover their ears."
She didn't know if Louise was here too, but if he was, she'd have to deal with him first before anyone else.
Ortgard only nodded. He respected Erica deeply, but he hated the thought of letting someone so young pull the strings in his place. It was the same with Fallon - often referred to as the lazy Lady Lacey, no matter how clever or silver-tongued she was, he never liked the idea of a girl her age holding so much power.
For the mission… I'll allow it, he told himself.
"I'm going in now."
Erica drew in a long, trembling breath. The cold air knifed into her lungs, slicing her from the inside, but she forced her hands to stay steady. Each step pressed into a thick, heavy layer of mist. She felt her boots sink into softening ground as the fog coiled around her ankles, creeping up her legs, tightening like countless unseen hands.
I'm completely inside now…
She narrowed her eyes, straining to see. But there was nothing - just endless swirling white. She feared she'd lose her way entirely. Wandering in this fog felt like being trapped in a maze - a labyrinth meant to swallow hope whole.
Still, she pressed on. Step after step after step. Until her eyes grew accustomed to the haze - only for her head to swim with sudden dizziness. Her limbs felt drained, her strength bleeding away.
It's the mist… isn't it?
She stopped, clutching her temples, forcing her vision to steady. Shadows drifted through the gloom - vague figures drifting closer. Even as they drew near, they remained nothing but black wraiths.
Erica summoned her battle axe - her favorite weapon - and charged. One swing carved through the shapes, and they dissolved at once into smoke.
Illusions…
A dull ache throbbed at the base of her skull. She hadn't expected the fog to conjure hallucinations. Halcyon had never mentioned that.
Someone must have reinforced it.
Erica took a step back, tightening her grip on the axe's shaft. The cold bit deeper, slicing into her flesh, every breath turning her chest to stone.
Stay calm, she told herself.
Before her, the fog coiled thick as oil - churning slow as a nest of white serpents slithering through the night.
A shadow flickered past her side. This time, Erica didn't strike. She stood still, eyes shut, letting the howling wind whistle past her ears, letting the murmur of ghostly whispers drip cold and slick around her.
What startled her was the void - she couldn't sense any flow of demonic power from any enemy at all. Within this fog, the magic was pure chaos.
Then a sharp numbness shot down her spine - pain blooming all at once. She looked down, stunned to see a blade driven straight through her chest. Warm blood welled up, flowing sluggishly.
Then, with a dry click, the blade slid free. Erica spun around, but there was no one there.
A real enemy!?
Lars had been right to worry. Inside this dense magical fog, her senses were next to useless. They could cloak themselves behind the swirling mist, bend illusions to their will, close in unseen and strike from the dark.
She couldn't rely on her senses now. Blood trickled down her front, but the wound was already closing. She tightened her grip on the axe and stepped forward again.
There was no point thinking of turning back - she'd already forgotten which way was out.