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The Black Mist always pursues those it has cursed, even to the ends of the earth. A monstrous, endless loop. Run, hide, it will still find us, as long as breath fills our lungs.
I cursed under my breath at the relentless cruelty of fate. The fire before me struggled pitiably, barely keeping its flame alive. The logs beneath were no better, far too damp to sustain the fire. It looked like a withered life desperately clinging to its very last spark of light.
“You look at it as if it were a dying person.”
The reflection of the flame stretched into eerie streaks across the deep green of her eyes, reminding me of the uncanny fire carried by the wraiths of the Shadow Isles. I poked at the pile of wood, a completely futile gesture, yet it still emitted a few faint crackles.
“If that’s the case, then I truly wish to bring it back to life.”
“You are already trying, and the fire is still striving to burn.”
That’s right, I didn’t want the fire to go out at all. I exhaled into the void, feeling the damp air settle upon me, filling my mouth, sliding along my senses. There was fog, there was wind, and that makeshift tent, and the thin cloth I draped over her shoulders, was hardly enough to keep out the chill. Staying here for long wasn't ideal, for the curse could pose a threat to the fishing village down by the sea, yet she said she wanted to linger. That was fine; I would answer for the safety of those weathered villagers, even if they weren't particularly friendly. A closed-off village.
A galaxy of stars blanketed the sky above us. In this season, the Silver constellation burned bright. Those lonely specks of light gathered together, shining down on a field engulfed in vast darkness. No moon, only stars. In any other circumstance, people would call it romantic—something along the lines of, “If you want the sky, I will bring it down for you. If you want the stars, I will put them all in your hands. If you fear the dark, I swear to purge it to protect you for a lifetime.” Or something like that. That song had been lost somewhere deep in my past. Unfortunately, our case was an exception, for there were things far more important than romance, at least for tonight.
She and I shared a quick, simple meal of dried rations. The ocean blew gusts of wind inland, scattering everything in their path. The winds collided with one another, wrestling over whatever they managed to sweep along. A hat drifted out of nowhere. Suddenly growing bored with their juggling game, the winds let me catch the hat before it flew too high.
"It looks so familiar."
Senna mused, her eyes shifting toward me as if asking whether I thought so too. Those eyes hardly seemed like hers anymore, filled with strange deep secrets. It would take me a long, long time to get used to those pupils.
"I don't know. Or are you having déjà vu again? You used to tell me your father made jokes about that all the time."
"Oh god, please don't tell me that!"
She burst out laughing. But one thing was for certain: she was a far better observer than I was, with an eye for the smallest details. I thought to myself that if an alternate universe existed out there, she would undoubtedly be a detective.
"This hat belongs to a little girl in the village!"
Senna almost cheered after digging through her memories for a brief moment. She inspected the hat beside the flickering campfire. It was lovely, wide-brimmed, and skillfully woven from dark golden bark. It was slightly damaged now, a casualty of the wind's careless cruelty.
"You know what? She kept staring at me while I was talking to a few villagers. When I stepped over, she just shook her head and bolted off as fast as a rabbit."
What felt even stranger was how the hat could have blown all the way here. Could she be somewhere nearby? I looked around. A small silhouette emerged from the direction of the village. Senna followed my gaze, then suddenly stood up and waved:
"Your hat is over here!"
Now I’d say for certain that if an alternate universe existed, she would definitely be a psychic detective. I mean, how could she even tell if that was the hat's owner under this dim starlight? The shadow drew closer, swiftly cutting through the sparse reed grass. A little girl, no doubt about it. Barely over ten years old. Flustered, she accepted her lost item to cover her bald head, bowing slightly to express her gratitude. It seemed she couldn’t speak. Yet her eyes were bright as a cat's, gleaming as she held out a basket. Inside, one could see soup, grilled fish, flatbread, a little salt, and drinking water. They were certainly far more delicious than our squeaky, chewy dry rations.
"Thank you, little one, but we’ve just eaten. It’s quite a long way from the village to here. Did you really come all this way just to bring a meal for strangers?"
"How about we walk you back home?"
The hat shook violently side to side, as if forcing us to finish every last bite. Two adults, driven into a corner by a little child—and a corner overflowing with temptation, no less. The little girl deftly set everything down beside the fire. A picnic out on the bare, windy field under a star-filled sky, brought to us by a kindhearted angel who couldn't speak. Goodness, what kind of miracle was this?
No, a twisted kind of miracle. Because that cursed thing was coming. I could see it all too clearly in Senna's flickering green eyes. The fire suddenly snuffed out. In a fraction of a second, a thick mist blanketed the sky in pitch darkness. Human eyes could no longer tell that evil thing apart from the night ocean. Countless stars were extinguished in the very same fear, a fear shared by both human and nature. Slithering like a venomous viper, the Black Mist advanced toward the poor village.
"Get inside the tent, quickly. Take this to protect yourself. Lucian, let's go!"
Senna was decisive. The mist was only coming from one direction, so this spot was still relatively safe for the little girl. What Senna handed her was a glowing piece of golden stone, radiating the very same light as our weapons. The girl clutched it tight with both hands, her hopeful eyes fixed entirely on the two of us.
"Don't worry. The village and your loved ones will be safe."
I reassured her with absolute confidence. Well, all it takes is determination and giving it our all. Lives first, food later. As I ran, I couldn't help but look back at the untouched food we hadn't even eaten yet. Commotion was already starting to break out from the village.
"Follow me, everyone! Leave the front line to him!"
I charged forward, cutting them off from the direction of the sea at the entrance of the village. Muzzle flashes burst in rapid succession, and the first of those deformed faces shattered to pieces.
Senna swiftly guided the villagers as far away as possible, her massive gun summoned from the mist, held at the ready in her hands. It was always surreal to witness Senna using that very same Black Mist to fight against them.
A chaotic mess of sound enveloped me: crying, screaming, the flash of fiery gunfire, and the shrieks of animals. I focused my mind entirely on my dual pistols as a few shots veered off target. The mist grew thicker. Senna backed me up with penetrating shots, somewhat thinning out the greyish siege.
A warm, golden light formed a protective shield around me, simultaneously wiping out a line of shadowy specters. Seizing the momentum, I unleashed a continuous barrage from my pistols. Light and darkness collided, flashing, wailing. A scene I had witnessed countlessly before.
I darted back and forth, weaving past attacks, dodging and striking back. Senna’s light was nowhere to be seen; the specters had likely reached her. Emboldened, the mist surged forward, tightening its grip and closing in on me. I needed to quickly prepare for the next volley of bullets. I clicked my tongue, cursing under my breath at the mandatory delay required after firing my dual pistols at maximum capacity.
But then, the encircling crowd suddenly scattered in fear of a spirit that looked just like them. I composed myself and looked closely. It was the little girl, disguised inside Senna's mist, holding the glowing light-stone high in her hands. For a fleeting second, I thought it was the radiance of a small yet valiant guardian angel. As my dual pistols clicked into place for the purge, I called out:
"Thank you!"
The little girl nodded with a smile and quickly darted out of sight. A storm of brilliant bullets erupted, shattering the mist. A few final shots ended the last wretched souls. They never flee; those empty husks desire nothing more than to be filled with human life.
I rushed toward the field. She was alright, with the little girl standing by her side. The villagers seemed completely unharmed. Ever since she returned from the dead, after every battle, I’ve feared loss more than ever.
"Everyone, stay back from the village for now. There might still be a few surviving specters. I’ll check."
For me, once the mist cleared, it was over. But for her, there was always something left worth worrying about. People call it the aftermath. A glow—or perhaps a flame, I wasn't sure—enveloped her eyes. I still loathed it terribly. With her rebirth and newfound power, she could effortlessly trace the presence of the Black Mist and liberate souls from their eternal torment. I wondered how long this would go on, all the way to that fateful day Senna had mentioned more than once: the Ruination, and the figure known as Viego.
She once whispered to me that within her dwelt another soul, in the form of a gentle yet steadfast woman who guided her throughout this journey against the darkness. Lately, that soul had been trying to connect with her more frequently during moments like these. It was also why she needed the Black Mist to appear, so she could have a chance to communicate with that woman. It sounded selfish, yet with the impending catastrophe drawing near, she desperately needed to gather information and prepare for the world's very survival. The Ruination, Viego, the woman's soul, the Black Mist—those things kept swirling in my head, but they were undeniably, inextricably linked.
"The village is safe, though a few houses near the entrance sustained some damage. We’ll fix them."
Suddenly, I felt a prickle of embarrassment. I always tried my best to fight in a way that minimized surrounding collateral damage, but somehow, bad luck just had a way of finding me.
"Thank you for saving us."
An old man stepped forward, his hands trembling over his walking stick. Like a flame passed from torch to torch, words of gratitude began to ripple through the crowd. The villagers dispersed to get to work. Those whose homes were damaged set about repairing them, while those with unharmed houses hurried over to lend a hand to their neighbors. Families who had lost livestock to the mist were warmly offered a share from others. Women called out to one another, gathering in the kitchen to prepare food. The quiet, impoverished village suddenly burst into lively commotion.
A young man lit a bright, crackling bonfire. A shared meal was laid out—simple, yet enough to stir my rumbling stomach. I just hoped it wouldn't make a sound. Smiles bloomed across their weathered, sun-darkened faces. Facing life and death together truly brought people closer. Senna had originally tried to decline, but they insisted on not letting us leave.
"We don't have much besides this humble meal. I hope you both enjoy it. Please accept it as a token of gratitude from all of us."
"Of course. We deeply appreciate everyone’s kindness."
I chimed in quickly, mostly because my stomach was practically staging a revolt by now.
"We feel so terribly about earlier... treating the two of you so poorly."
My eyes met hers, and we both shared a soft chuckle. It was nothing, really. We didn't hold it against them at all. Just as I lifted a piece of fish to my mouth, I suddenly remembered the little girl's meal, now sitting abandoned out in the open field. My eyes frantically darted around the crowd.
"Are you looking for that little girl? She ran off somewhere just a moment ago. She's a lot like you, you know: stubborn and fearless as a mule."
"Sounds like prime Sentinel of Light material, doesn't it?"
I added to her observation, half-joking, half-serious. Giving me a sharp, teasing glare, she recounted a story a middle-aged woman had told her while the rest of the village was busy cleaning and repairing. The Black Mist had taken the little girl's mother when she was still very young, but the girl herself was fortunate enough to be saved by a Sentinel of Light. Hoping to rescue his daughter and their village from poverty, her father set sail with a few others to search for black pearls. That priceless treasure had existed in legend, carried across the continent from the mouths of Bilgewater pirates all the way to this remote, impoverished village. Yet those dreams, and the lives bound to them, were swallowed by a tempestuous sea. The little girl was left an orphan.
On the very day her father had set sail, she secretly sold her long hair to a merchant ship to relieve their hardship, buying things to fix up their home as a small surprise for his return. Days, weeks, and months went by. Despite the grim whispers of the villagers, she kept waiting. From then on, no one ever saw her let her hair grow again. Perhaps to her, keeping it short was a steadfast promise reserved for the day her father came home.
My heart sank, a swell of deep compassion washing over me. My own mother passed away early in my life, and my father, a Sentinel of Light, left me to seek refuge in Demacia. As I grew older, I spent years fighting the Black Mist entirely on my own. That very same sworn enemy took my father from me. Yet, in doing so, he brought Senna into my life, and together, we continue the journey he left unfinished.
Before we even realized it, the little girl was sitting right between Senna and me, laying out the reheated food from the open field. Guess that meant we had to finish every last bite, huh? There was no escaping the hands of an angel.
Senna stroked the head of the little girl, who had taken off her hat by now, and said affectionately:
"You're so brave, kind, and talented. Thank you for the meal, and for taking care of my 'rookie' over here."
I heard her, but stayed silent, eating while watching the two of them. She took the girl's hand, gently curling those small fingers around the lightstone fragment the child was trying to return. She wanted her to keep it, as a quiet word of encouragement, or perhaps a beacon of hope.
In moments like this, I found her breathtakingly beautiful. The hardened shell had dissolved, leaving behind a Senna whose heart overflowed with warmth and love. For some reason, a sudden thought flashed through my mind, one I swore that if I dared say aloud, she'd jab me in the ribs painfully: The two of them looked just like mother and daughter.
“So, what’s your name?”
She and I spoke in perfect unison. Couples really do share a single mind! All three of us burst out laughing. The little girl reached for the fish skewer I had just finished, carefully recalling the shapes of the letters as she traced each stroke into the sand.
Dawn broke over the ocean in a flush of vivid pink, the sea reflecting winding ribbons of light. No matter how pitch-black the night may be, the light will always come, one way or another. So too will the Black Mist be driven away.
Saviel. What a beautiful name.