Rain was falling all around them as they fled from the fog. The coldness of each droplet feeling like ice on their skin wherever they landed, soaking them further than they already were and stealing away what warmth they still held in their bodies. The wind was frantic around them. Tossing itself around like a wild beast in a cage, making the rain fall sideways down from the dark night sky. It was a near surreal experience; from the silence of the fog with never ending walls of white everywhere and with no wind moving, and then the moment they exit, encountering the wrath of the season, with rain and wind so harsh and cold it was a mystery how none could have made its presence known inside the confinements of the fog.

There were sleet mixed in with the rain, but they barely noticed as their bodies carried themselves away from the dangers behind them and to a safety they hoped to find. To be able to find somewhere to rest for just a moment to recover their strength before they could continue on.

Two figures were waiting for them, from a distance, each just as beat up as they. They helped them, they found, when they were close enough. The biggest of the two were helping supporting them both, the youngest of them more than any as he was in the worst condition.

In a haste they moved, eyes searching through the downpour and illuminating silvery mist in search for cover from the wrath of nature. They found none, and thus they continued their flee, battling against the icy wind and heavy sleet and rain as they crossed the Expanses, aware and on edge for any possible dangers that might prove itself. Eyes continuously going back towards the white fog behind them, undisturbed by the storm as were it not there at all.

The mist was their best guide through the dark and wet around them. Illuminating and glowing, magical in properties, and moving around them like were they moving through water. Stray wisps were moving through it, fighting against the wind to seek shelter while others had lost the fight and were carried along the wind and its rage, to meet a fate still unknown.

The few sparse trees around where bowing against the wind. Their trunks groaning against the strain of the battle while branches broke and were lost from them, falling to the ground and almost hitting the fleeing group at one point.

However far they had gotten they were unaware. Their steps were slow and strained when the wind changed direction, hammering directly against them from the front, nearly having them tumble over. Their teeth were clattering. Their bodies frozen to the bone, and fatigue and exhaust near enough for them to lose the battle against the wrath of nature.

But they did not give up. Even as voices and whispers of promises and answers began to reach their ears once again they fought and they continued, slipping on stones and the muddy ground beneath their feet. Stubbornness keeping them moving more than anything else, when they finally began to reach areas with more vegetation. Trees became more common around them, straining and fighting, losing twigs and branches against the wind and rain. Some of the trees had given up against the fight, now laying broken on the ground, never to recover.

The wind howled and fought, tossing against them with such force the rain and sleet felt like small projectiles, piercing their already wounded skin, and made pain spread in their numb bodies. Limbs getting harder to move against the strain and cold, freezing and soaked to the bone, with no more warmth in their bodies as such had long since been stolen away by the hands of nature.

Shadows of movement camouflaged in the storm surrounded them. Whispers grew and begged and asked and requested. Promised them answers to questions they each held inside, only waiting to be figured out. But none listened nor even heard with the wind blocking out all sound but itself, deafening them to their ill intends.

Even as they grew louder, yelling and demanding, did they not hear as they neared the boarders to the world outside of the Misty Expanses. Bodies shaking and legs nearly giving up under them when they finally spotted an end to the mists.

Thunder struck through the air, rumbling everything around them, and themselves deep to their very bone, the sound itself loud enough to drown out the wind.

Flashes of white cut through the air, tossing everything into brief moments of light, exposing the secrets the darkness of the night contained. Shadowy creatures, moving in the dark, hissing away whenever flashes of light split the sky, with eyes shining red and cold in the night. Creatures covered in skin nearly rotting off their bones, gray from decay and time. Corpses moving across the Expanses, turning to watch them as they passed, and reached for them. Lean creatures, tall and slender, with skin as gray as ash, eyes as empty as the dead, and teeth sharper than any sword. Female figures following their every move, whispering and begging, promising and answering, bodies covered in scales and fins, their movements more swimming than walking as they stalked their prey with eyes soulless and clouded with fog and mist.

Come back, they said, their voices strained from misuse and lips parting to show teeth like the claws on their fingers. Come back and we will make you see and hear and know. For you all wish to know, and they could tell them the truths they did not know they did not know and give them the answers to the questions they had thought they knew but in truth did not. They could help them, guide them, show them what they had missed. Show them the calm of the fog, away from the storm and the dangers and the pain, if only just they would listen to their voice. If only they would give back what they had stolen.

Just him. They just needed him. They would let the others go. Just give them the youngest, the winter child, and they would be promised to escape their lands with none to bother them. With no one to try and keep them there. They would make the storm stop and lead them the rest of the way out of their realm, if only they let the winter child stay behind.

They did not listen, for they could not listen. They were deafened by the wind howling around them, louder than before when the whispers and voices in their heads began to pick up. Drowning the siren pixies out. Leaving their temptations for deaf ears as they finally broke through, across the boarder and to safety. Away from the Misty Expanses and the creatures watching them through the mist, declining to follow them across the boarder. Their voices yelling and begging, tempting them, but out of earshot for their targets.

The mists were no loner around them, no longer illuminating the world in front of them. No longer hiding away most of the creatures of the Misty Expanses, following them, haunting them, giving them temptations.

And so they began their search for shelter anew, stalking their way back to their camp, with horses exhausted and cold from the storm, standing beneath the tree where they had bound them before they left. Their supplies left behind were soaked through, their tent even so. The furs and pelts no longer able to offer any kind of comfort from the storm and cold. No wood around being dry enough to form a fire to keep the cold at bay. No longer were their food able to be eaten from the masses of water and sleet pouring down around them.

They huddled together beneath the tree in search for cover. Their bodies shaking uncontrolled by the cold, as they tried to give themselves pause from the wrath of nature.

Their bodies having long since grown numb against the harsh treatment. And so they waited beneath the tree, all four of them huddled together for cover and warmth against the cold and the wind and downpour, hoping and begging for their gods for the weather soon to stop, as they one after one gave into exhaustion and fell into unconsciousness. Soaked and injured and exhausted. Too tired to care for what other horrors they were to meet outside of the Misty Expanses where eyes still were observing the far far away, with voices still trying to call and make them give into the temptations they offered.

Cover, warmth, a hiding place from the storm.

But none were heard as their targets fell into the Dreaming, one by one, leaving their bodies to suffer through the storm of the night, as they walked through dreams and memories of the world beyond the Waking. As they slept and rested the storm subsided. The sky began to lighten and chase away the night's storm, replacing it with a light drizzle of rain. With a sky colored by the sun's first rays of light, spreading beauty upon the world and causing clouds to gain a golden glow upon the painting-like sky. As they slept the sun rose to the sky, chasing the last of the rain away, awakening small feathered birds that greeted the world with their song. Welcoming a new day after the horrors of the night, before they would leave the Kingdom behind to search to warmer lands to stay for the winter soon to come.

With their song the world awoke anew, animals having hid from the storm and the night came out of their shelters, shaking their furs dry as they went to their daily tasks, searching for food and watching for prey and for themselves not to fall for such a fate.

Wisps escaped from their hiding places, dancing in the air as they once again were free to roam, no longer fearing being caught by the wind and getting carried away, perhaps never to be seen once more.

They danced, moving and singing like small chimes whenever they bumped into each other or bushes or stones. Dancing through the air and around the four sleeping people beneath the old and worn oak tree, able to tell stories of times way before their time, but remained a silent observer of its own spot of the world. It had seen countless of countless of unfortunate souls entering the Misty Expanses. Seeking treasures or glory, hoping to capture one of the creatures it knew to live in the fogs. Being foolishly lost and believing a shortcut through the mists were an option of brilliance. Of souls having fallen for the whispers and cries of the creatures, thinking not of the ill intend behind the soft and loving voices, so wise beyond anything they should know, and had made them followed them. None of which had ever returned, no matter their reason to enter the mists from the start.

But the happenings of the passing day was some the old oak tree had not experienced before. Four souls it had seen, wandering into the mists in hope for glory and promise. Two souls thinking high of themselves, ready to take on the world for gold, and two souls, trembling in fear of what were to lie ahead.

It had not thought to see them again, such foolish souls, and when they did not return before the night had settled, it had thought them to be gone like the rest. Meeting a fate in the fogs which none of their fellows outside would ever know of. But things had been different, it knew. One of the souls were not as the others. One was Sleeping but powerful, hiding among its fellows that were like it but not truly. And the old oak tree knew. It knew without knowing, just who the soul was among them, though hiding with fear and regret, and the old oak tree knew why. It had heard the whispers of it in its leafs, and found it surprising when it indeed was the soul who came wandering into the mists. It had feared the soul would be lost, giving the Sleeping to the creatures inside, and so the old oak tree had mourned for what would have come to pass.

It knew the secret with the Sleeping Soul had inside itself. It knew what could happen were it to be absorbed by the creatures trapped inside the mists. And when it had not been able to feel the Sleeping Soul any longer, it had feared and cried and warned. Letting its cries being carried away as the wind swept through its canopy. And when night had fallen around it and the night brought the storm, the souls lost through time were in there. Readying for their new souls to take. But they never did. Instead the old oak tree had observed as not only one but all of the souls came back out. A sight it had never thought to see in its centuries of existence.

Four souls came out, beaten and broken, fighting against the storm and the voices and whispers and the strain of their bodies. The fearless souls and the worried souls. What it could not believe was the Sleeping soul having made it out as well. In worse condition than the others, but alive and well and not absorbed by the creatures.

It was about to break, the old oak tree knew, did its body not soon get rest, and the old oak tree offered them what they sought. And they knew and it knew, that it could shield them from most of the wind and the rain while they would recover for the remaining of the night. And so it guarded them as they lay in sleep, huddled together.

While they slept, the old oak tree let what it had just experienced be carried by the wind, spreading the news that there were still hope to its fellows. That four souls had entered and four souls had come out. And it knew, the old oak tree found, that the Sleeping soul was the reason. Though why or how, it did not know, but the Sleeping Soul was powerful and old, and would help them all when it was time. But not now. Now it would rest as the world would awaken, and its body recover. While wisps danced around the scene around them, some playful and daring, curiously getting closer to the souls they had thought not to see outside the mists again.

The wisps danced and laughed and chimed around the sleeping soul's head, daring to touch his nose, his ear, his cheek, his hair - anywhere where they thought it entertaining, for they were curious creatures, those small balls of light, and so they examined him, for they too knew who and what he was. They had heard the old oak tree's cries and thoughts and wonders and relief when the Sleeping soul before them had come back out from the mists they knew some feared.

They chimed and laughed, awaking the boy despite the old oak tree's protests. As the boy awakened, the wisps hid away, for they may be curious and playful, but they knew to be aware, for although the sleeping boy was a boy they knew the secrets of, they dared not to risk their fate. Many of their brethren had been slain by souls looking like he, and that they did not wish to happen again.

The boy sat up with body protesting against the movement and eyes blinking against the light of the sun spreading across the sky. He was tired they could tell, but too exhausted for anything other than sit and stare at the world around him as both it and he awoke.

He was still tired beyond compare with his body feeling like it was just a consistent of pain more than anything else. No meat or bone, just plain pain. He was cold and mostly numb, body aching and sore from the strain the day before. His throat felt on fire and despite the cold of the air, he felt strangely uncomfortably warm. Barely able to breathe through his nose at all. His head felt as were it on fire from the headache that shot through him whenever he moved his head.

He looked past his shoulder to the mist far off in the distance, where death and horrors lay in wait. He looked at his surroundings; the grasslands around him, the wisps dancing at a safe distance form him, and the old oak tree that had given them their cover from the wrath of nature. He looked at his companions, each of them at turn. Their bodies were covered in injuries just as his. All beaten, with clothes now more rags than anything else. He was thankful for them, he found, though puzzled. To them he was but a thing they had won in a fight, they new nothing of who he really was, and yet the Southerner had still went back in for him, even after stating that he would do no such thing, were he to wander off into the fog. And he had. Been snatched away by long, clawed hands, like knives cutting into his skin. Nearly drowning, and surely would have died when he had been able to run, had the Southerner not shown up to rescue him.

It was by chance he told himself then, and yet he had a feeling it was not.

It confused him, and so he instead turned his gaze back towards the sunrise and watched as the sky changed color from dark to red and gold to blue, with no more clouds on the sky nor rain to soak them through any further that day.

He watched as a hare ran across the plain, moving fast to reach its destination before falling pray to a carnivorous animal. There was a fox at a far distance from it, and it was clear it had not yet seen the hare as all its attention currently was on trying to catch wisps. It jumped for them, jaw snapping closed when it thought it had one, but each time it found itself empty handed and thus it jumped again, oblivious to the meal waiting for it were it to turn around.

The wisps chimed whenever the fox jumped after them, and they flew out of the way, each time chiming louder than before, though whether this was by fun or fright remained unknown.

One could almost forget that the world was not as it should be any longer, when looking upon the scenery. That there were no horrors awaiting in the dark of night, ready to take away the pray that were outside still. There were no signs of the chaos circling in the once peaceful kingdom, now that there no longer were any true rulers on the throne.

The Great General may be the one in charge now, but since what happened to the royal family not even he could be expected to perform the task of ruling the Kingdom well.

He had lost so much...

A sigh escaped the young thief as he severed his chain of thought, instead choosing to pull his gaze from the scenery before him and back towards the old oak tree behind him and its canopy above. Such strange a tree it was. Centuries old at least, and yet he could tell it was not a tree like others of its kind.

Like an ancient giant, guarding the world around it. A silent watcher to the world amid the chaos of all living creatures surrounding it. Mere leafs in the wind as they hurried onto their tasks in hectic lives that passed by in what would seem like moments in the old tree's lifespan.

Wind swept through the canopy of the ancient giant, sending a few stray leafs into the wind as they gave up on hanging on any longer. Swept away and across the grasslands as they disappeared out of sight.

His companions grunted in their sleep, but even as they began to move he did not heed them much attention. His mind was wandering with the wind, carried off to places far beyond the horizon. To far off plains and across endless distances, to a far off Capital by the sea, bursting with life in its pristine streets. With joy and laughs and people busying through the streets, voices laughing, yelling and chatting, filling the air with emotions. With plants living wild in the streets, bringing life and greenery to the bustling streets. Marketplaces filled with expensive foreign products; fruits and silk and spices and other luxuries which one of the commoners could hope to achieve possession off without having worked for weeks to afford it.

He thought of tall pristine walls, secluding the nobles from the commoners, hiding away slums and dirt and the lowest of the poor. Out of sight from the nobles so they could not soil the view of their proud city. Of servants bustling through the walls to reach their nobles and perform the tasks they had been hired for. Each eager to be the best of the best, so they could continue having work before returning to the slums.

He thought of the castle, towering above it all, tossing the city into shadows beneath it, reminding everybody of their place in the world. That they were all at the mercy of the royal family and their reign.

He thought of the times he had watched the Moon cross the sky, settling like a giant halo behind the castle at midnight, and bathed everything in silvery white glow. Illuminating the walls of the city so they shone in the dark as had they done since the First King settled upon the lands.

Homesickness swept its way into him as he saw it all before him. The sounds of the streets, though distant in memory, were still clear enough for him to imagine hearing it again in that moment. The memory of the smell from the bakery by the fountain and the countless of smells from spices in the air made his mouth water.

What he would not try some of those again. To put his teeth into some freshly baked bread with spices from far off Kingdoms. To eat some that for once was not hard enough to break a tooth on or tasted like mold.

Even just getting his hands on some salt would be beyond anything he could currently achieve.

But salt... Just a pinch on some bread or a cooked potato or a slice of cheese...

Subconsciously he began to lick his lips as he began imagining just what he could prepare with it. How tasteful anything could become with it; it could make even the most horrible stew seem like a luxurious feast. The smell of it would seem like the most delicious thing in the world.

His stomach growled then, pulling him out of his thoughts of salt and spices and wishful thinking. Rubbing his stomach he looked around them, nearly getting a fright when finding the dwarf had settled down beside him while he had been lost in thought. He looked quite surprised at Jack as his stomach decided to growl even louder than before. Surely it were loud enough to awaken those still sleeping, Jack thought.

The dwarf made a huff of breath as a smile spread on his lips and he went for their bag of supplies by the horses, taking it with him back to his spot and searched through what little food they had. Their loafs of bread were thrown away after last night's rain had deemed them inedible. Same went for their cheese and stolen sweets form the tavern. They had a few potatoes still and carrots, Jack noted, which still seemed in good enough shape for eating, barely, and a bottle of some liquid he suspected was what the Cossack was drinking all the time.

Gratefully Jack took the carrot handed to him, and almost skipped cleaning it for dirt before he began to eat. It was wrinkly and had begun to soften of age, yet still it managed to satisfy just a bit of his hunger though nowhere near enough for him to feel comfortably stuffed.

His headache acted up again whist he ate, but it was nowhere near as much as it had been when first he had awakened from his slumber.

"Did we get one?" Jack asked the older male when having finished his, not really a meal but more a snack. His voice was hoarse and made his throat hurt from use.

His question received a curious look from the dwarf, but as a few moments passed his answer finally arrived.

It was not one Jack had wished to receive. All of that for nothing. "So putting our lives on the line was all for nothing?" He asked flabbergasted, staring at the old male as were it the last thing he had ever wanted to know. Which was not all that far from the truth. "We went into the most dangerous territory in the entire kingdom, having dragged ourselves through mist and fog and whatnot, been manipulated with and snatched away by siren pixies, nearly drowning and almost gotten out skin ripped off our bodies and heads exploded, for what? Mere experience? For fun?"

The dwarf winched at his words but still made a nod in response, and then a gesture that only could mean one thing; 'at least we're still alive.'

"They won't be for much longer," Jack hissed, suppressing his need to clear his throat from the strain of having spoken. "The moment they wake up they're dead."

His companion paled at his words, but, even so, he did not object to Jack's declaration and instead sent his slowly awakening friends disapproving looks. Probably due to what their stubbornness had almost cost them all.

His action made Jack release a huff of breath as he looked back to the horizon. Of course he did not mean it, killing them, but he still was close to beyond mad at them. Having risked their lives for the sake of glory and riches even if the odds had been heavily stacked against them from the very beginning. How could they even have thought they had stood a chance at catching a siren pixie and get out alive? It made no sense, as did how they had managed to escape at all. They had been everywhere around them; ready to kill them if given the chance.

A chill went down his spine then, making him shudder from the still too fresh memories of what had happened in the fog. How the siren pixies had treated them, and managed to get into his mind with such ease as had his thoughts been nothing but an open book for them to read.

He knew it was what they did, that it was part of their magic, but still it had him wonder if perhaps his own secrets truly were not so secret after all. He... Had not given any hints away so they could have figured, had he?

True, the lie about how he came into possession of the dagger was not bulletproof even if it had seemed enough to convince these people, for now at least. As well as his story about being a farmer's boy. That one was - sort of - bulletproof for sure. He had his Shepard's hook to use to make it seem highly likely, so-

His heart skipped a beat as realization filled him. His eyes widening as his hand by instinct reached out for his Shepherd's hook to take into his grasp only to close around empty air.

Feverishly he began to look around, trying to fumble his way to retrieve it through the panic settling in his chest and between drowsy bodies in hopes of finding it. But it was not there. He could not spot it anywhere.

He could not have lost it. He could not. If he had lost it it meant that that would happen, and he could not risk that. He could not risk it to come back so soon.

If he had lost it... If he was going to be without it then -

He dared not to think of the consequences if he had to be without it.

"Ya alright, kid?"

He did not answer the Southerner's question. The fear in him was too eminent for him to trust his voice not to give him away.

Swallowing he looked back at the Misty Expanses behind them, ignoring the pain in his body from forcing it to twist around so he could observe the mists.

His staff was in there somewhere, where he had dropped it.

When the siren pixies used their scream, he guessed, and he had clutched his hands for his ears had he dropped it. Letting it fall to the ground as were it any common replaceable object. Even when he had awakened in the waters of the swamp the thought of it missing had not crossed his mind at all, and he had always been so aware of where it was.

In truth, he had not even given it a thought that he had had a sword by his side that would have been able to help him get free sooner from his restraints while he had been in the swamp, as he had been too caught up in panic at the time.

Undoubtedly it would have made him able to get away at least a little faster had he just remembered, but that was not what he should be focusing on as of right now. Now, he had more dire and important issues to worry about.

Like his missing staff.

His very important missing staff.

He had to go back for it. No matter how little he wished to return to the mists then he had no other choice. If he lost it, and were unable to ever get it back, it would be a bigger disaster than any of these people would ever be able to imagine.

"Kid!" The Southerner's voice sounded again, somehow managing to reach through the soon alarming amount of panic settling in the young thief. "What's wrong?"

Swallowing Jack looked up at him with an expression mixed with fear and worry. He would not understand. How could he? He did not know of its importance. He did not even know of Jack's true story or anything about the real him. He believed a lie. A lie spun in a moment of panic, and yet seemed true enough for them to fall for one as inadequate as it had been.

The Southerner would not understand. The Cossack would not understand. The dwarf -

The dwarf was looking at him with an expression worried beyond measure.

"M-my staff," Jack whispered in a broken voice, with his body shaking from fear from the realization. "I lost it."

The Southerner raised an eyebrow at him as he looked in slight bewilderment at the younger male. "Yer' worried 'bout yer staff? And here I thought ya were worried 'bout somethin' important."

"It is important!"

"It's a Shepherd's hook. I know ya were a shepherd or somethin' before, but ya can just make a new one by goin' out in the woods and find a stick. It ain't like it's all that hard."

"You have no idea what you are talking about," Jack spoke, unable to stop himself. To believe he would ever live to hear someone utter such about his staff... If only he knew just what it truly was, he would have never even dared to think the thought.

"Oh yeah? And just what makes that staff so much more important than any other wooden stick ya can find?" The Southerner inquired, not at all looking like he had even the slightest of interest in truly knowing why Jack wanted it back at all. He looked beyond exhausted still with close to black circles beneath his eyes. His skin tattered in wounds and injuries that made him look like he did not even possess a single scrap of skin left untouched by misfortune. Not even the close to countless of skins and pelts he wore had spared him from the siren pixies and their claws or the wrath of nature.

Alas, no matter the condition he - and all the others were in - it did not prevent Jack from growing hostile towards him. He knew he could not know what he was truly saying. If he knew the truth he would never even have suggested such a thing, and as it were Jack understood. He understood it was said in ignorance due to false pretenses. It just did not mean that Jack did not take it personal due to the state his emotions were in in that very moment.

Barely did he get to open his mouth, however, before a hand was laid on his shoulder and interrupted him. He watched the dwarf shake his head at him, sending him an unreadable expression.

"What?" Jack demanded, shaking himself free from the dwarf's hand as he ignored the pain the action caused. It was of no importance. This amount of pain was nothing compared to what would happen did he not get back his staff.

Of course there were no reply from the dwarf. What else should he expect? That he just magically began to speak?

He did not have the patience for this. His heart was still hammering against his chest as were it a savage beast and his chest a cage. His breathing still getting closer to an almost panicked state. If only these people knew then they would not take this as calm as they did. They would be halfway back through the Misty Expanses by now if they knew, no matter what kind of injuries they possessed, in order to retrieve it.

But they were not, and for every moment they lingered, the fear and panic and anger in Jack only seemed to grow.

"Jack," the Cossack said as Jack was starting to try to pick himself up from the ground. He nearly tumbled over from the pain in his ankle. As much as their injuries and the cold from their escape had been horrible, then at least it had made his body numb to pain. In hindsight that had been a blessing.

"What?!" Jack nearly exploded at him, wincing against the still remaining pain in his head.

His outburst made the Cossack look surprised at him, clearly taken aback by being spoken to like so. But as with the Southerner, the Cossack too looked beyond done with everything at that moment when the first surprise had settled. He too was beaten and exhausted despite an entire night of sleep, but still strained against the injuries he had received as well. "You need to calm down," the Cossack spoke, his expression leaving no room for argument. "You are barely able to stand. You are the one in worst condition of us all. Do not deny it. You look like you could pass out even now. Sit."

Narrowed eyes met his as Jack reluctantly followed the demand, nearly having to be pushed back down onto his seat before following orders. Wincing against the sensation of wounds scrapping against clothes and some bursting back into bleeding. As much as he would rather prefer to charge at the Misty Expanses to retrieve his possession then he could not deny his so-called owner his request no matter how much he desired to do so.

And he utterly despised that.

The Cossack exhaled deeply, but whether it was in relief or something else remained unknown. He observed their youngest member for a time before he finally opened up his coat. It was not exactly torn to rags, but it had certainly received its fair share of beat ups from their trip into the mists.

With one swift motion he reluctantly pulled out two pieces of wood, splintered and broken right in the middle of where they once had been connected. "The siren pixies broke it before we could escape."

Any panic Jack may have had had when realizing his staff had gone missing was nothing compared to the massiveness of dread that filled him then.

A gasp sounded from the dwarf when he looked at the sight in aghast.

Jack could hear an exchange of words between the Southerner and the Cossack, but it all went for deaf ears as he could do nothing but stare at the pieces the Cossack held them out for him to take.

His staff.

It was- Oh no.

There was a lump in his throat. Big enough to make breathing difficult and left him unable to speak. His body was shaking. Turning dead cold due to the horror the Cossack was currently placing on his lap. Dreadful was the only thing that truly could describe the sight.

His hands were trembling as he held the pieces up whilst he paled more and more for every moment passing.

He could hear voices speak but make no sense of them. Panic and dread seemed to devour his being, matching the wind picking up around them, tossing itself around as were another storm arriving. It swept through the canopy of the ancient being towering above them as he held the pieces of his staff. Warnings and memories flooded his mind, with only a single one managing to drown out all the others.

Keep it close, and do not get it destroyed.

Oh no.

He could feel the pressure of a hand on his shoulder but make no real sense of what it meant. The wind was deafening everything out around him while an icy cold spread in his chest, fighting its way out from its confinement.

The sensation was dreadful.

And he knew. He knew why they had done it. He knew why they had broken his staff.

Let the Sleeping come out. Let us take it away.

We can help.

Oh no.

So, there has been a couple of new chapters during the last month's time, and I am curious of what you think of my new style of writing compared to the first chapters (1-9) of the story, as well as what you think of the longer chapters in general? I want to hear as it can help me improve and become better at this.

And yes. I do, in fact, enjoy making cliffhangers.