Sealed Garden of Gods

Chapter 2- Fire of Fools

The mist was not just a fog. It was like a mouth, and we were walking right down its throat.

I didn't know how long we had been walking. In the Rofnar forest, time doesn't exist. The canopy of the black trees was so thick above us that it blocked out the sky completely. There was no sun to tell us if it was day, and no moon to tell us if it was night. There was only the green, sickly glow of the moss on the roots and the endless, swirling gray vapor.

My boots felt heavy, like I was dragging a corpse with every step. The mud tried to eat us, pulling at our ankles with a wet squelch sound.

I walked at the back of the group. It was safer there. Or maybe I just didn't want to look at the faces of the men I was going to die with.

At the front was the big guy. He was huge, built like a fortress wall that learned how to walk. He had broken a thick branch off a dead tree and was using it like a club, smashing through the thorny vines. He didn't say a word, just grunted every time he swung his weapon.

Behind him was the skinny thief. He was twitchy. His head kept snapping left and right, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He looked like a rabbit that knew a wolf was nearby. Every time a branch snapped in the distance, his hand would jerk toward his belt, reaching for a knife he didn't have.

And in front of me was the scholar. The man in the torn, dirty robes. He was the weakest of us. He stumbled over every root, wheezing like a dying horse. He wasn't built for this place.

"We stop," the big guy's voice rumbled suddenly.

We had reached a small hollow beneath the roots of a massive tree. The tree was impossibly big, its trunk as wide as a castle tower. The roots curled up out of the ground to form a natural shelter, a small cave protected from the wind.

"My legs..." the thief groaned, collapsing onto the wet dirt. "I can't feel my legs. Are we even going anywhere? It feels like we been walking in circles."

"We move forward," the big guy said. He dropped his club and sat down. "That is all that matters."

"Forward to where?" the scholar asked, his voice trembling as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "To the Ruined Kingdom? To death? The legends say that this place is endless."

"Quiet," the big guy snapped. "Panic kills faster than hunger. We rest now. We sleep."

I didn't say anything. I just moved to the edge of the shelter, sitting with my back against the cold bark. I pulled my knees to my chest. I was cold. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones.

The big guy looked at us. He sighed, a heavy sound. He started gathering dry leaves and dead twigs from the sheltered part of the root.

"Fire," he muttered. "We need fire."

"Is that safe?" the thief asked, looking nervously at the darkness. "Won't it attract... monsters?"

"The cold will kill us before the monsters do," the big guy replied. "And without light, the mind starts to see things that aren't there."

He looked at the scholar. "You. Robe-man. Can you do something useful?"

The scholar flinched, adjusting his cracked glasses. "I... I can try. My mana is low. The cuffs they put on us... they drained most of it."

He held out a shaking hand over the pile of leaves. He closed his eyes, muttering strange words under his breath. A tiny spark of blue light, weak and flickering, danced on his fingertip. He dropped the spark onto the leaves.

Whoosh.

A small fire crackled to life.

The warmth hit us instantly. It was such a small thing, just a little orange light in a world of gray, but it felt like a miracle. The shadows retreated a little bit.

We sat around the fire in a circle. Four strangers. Four criminals.

"I'm Borg," the big guy said, staring into the flames. "Former Captain of the West Gate Garrison."

The thief let out a sharp laugh. "A Captain? Seriously? You look more like a bandit. What's a hero doing here with trash like us?"

Borg's expression didn't change. The firelight cast deep shadows over the scars on his face. "I killed my superior. He ordered us to burn a slum district because of a plague outbreak. There were people inside. He said it was for the greater good. I didn't agree. So I put my sword through his armor."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Damn," the thief whispered. He rubbed the back of his neck. "That's... heavy. I'm Vax. Just a thief. I didn't kill anyone. I stole medicine. My little sister was sick. The rich folks had the cure, but they wouldn't sell it. So I took it."

"Did she make it?" Borg asked softly.

Vax smiled, a sad, broken smile. "Yeah. She lived. That's why I let them catch me. I needed to draw the guards away so she could run. Worth it."

I looked at them. A knight who killed for justice. A thief who stole for love. They were good men. The world outside called them monsters, but sitting here, they looked more human than the noble I killed.

"And you?" Vax looked at the scholar. "What did you do, bookworm?"

The scholar warmed his hands over the fire. "My name is Elian. I was a researcher. I studied the soul. The Church called it heresy. They said I was trying to play god. But I just wanted to know if we could bring back those who were taken too soon."

Borg grunted. "Necromancy?"

"No," Elian shook his head quickly. "Restoration. Fixing what is broken. But the Church didn't see the difference."

Then, three pairs of eyes turned to me.

I was sitting a bit further back. I didn't want to join this. Friends are heavy. Friends die. And I was done with losing things.

"What about you, Silent?" Vax asked, grinning. "You haven't said a word. You look like you killed a dragon."

I stared into the fire. The flames reminded me of the candle in her room. The memory hurt.

"Kyle," I said. My voice sounded rusty. "I killed a noble."

"Just one?" Vax asked.

"The one that mattered," I said. "He killed the woman I loved. So I cut his throat while he was sleeping."

Borg looked at me for a long second. He nodded slowly. "Good."

"Yeah," Vax added, spitting into the fire. "Good riddance. Sounds like we got a proper party here. A traitor knight, a master thief, a heretic mage, and an avenger."

Vax laughed, and surprisingly, Elian joined in. Even Borg cracked a small smile. The sound of laughter was strange in this place.

"We are a mess," Elian said. "But... we are alive. The others... do you think they made it?"

"Dead," Borg said firmly. "They are dead. The mist doesn't let go."

"So we are the lucky ones?" Vax asked, leaning back. "Hey, if we keep going... maybe we actually find it. The Ruined Kingdom. Imagine the loot in there. If we find the treasure of the gods, we could buy our own kingdom."

"I just want to see the architecture," Elian murmured dreamily. "The stones of the Ancient Era..."

"I just want to find a place where no one tells me what to do," Borg grunted.

They were dreaming. It was stupid. We were sitting in a cursed forest, and they were planning the future. It was a false hope. A delusion.

But looking at them... seeing the light in their eyes... I felt something inside my chest loosen up a bit.

"We move at dawn," Borg said, kicking dirt over the embers to dim the fire. "We stick together. Borg takes the front. Vax, you watch the sides. Elian, you stay in the middle. Kyle... can you fight?"

I pulled out the rusted dagger from my boot. "I can kill."

"Good," Borg said. "Kyle takes the rear."

We settled down to sleep. The ground was hard and cold, but the presence of the other three made it bearable.

I lay on my side, watching the embers glow. Elian was snoring. Vax was tossing a stone. Borg was watching the darkness.

For the first time since the trial, I didn't feel completely alone.

Maybe Vax was right. Maybe we could be the lucky ones. We had a tank, a rogue, a mage, and me. We had a team.

If we just kept walking, maybe we could see that Ruined Kingdom. Maybe we could find something worth living for.

I closed my eyes, letting the rare feeling of hope settle in my chest. It felt warm.

The forest outside was silent. Too silent. But inside our little cave, it felt safe.

Tomorrow, we would march.

I drifted off to sleep, not knowing that this would be the last peaceful night of my life. The forest was just letting us dream, so the waking up would hurt more.