99 AC / 54 HA
Hermione
I woke to the familiar sound of nothingness as the thatched hut that had been our shelter for the past week slowly came into focus. Time, which had lost all meaning within the mist, was restored within this tiny sanctuary amidst the dreary environment. Even so, the mysteries that plagued this excursion remained thickly clouded around us.
I had not dreamed of her this past week, and that in itself was a glaring indicator of how twisted and cruel the mist could truly be.
I had spent my time with the villagers. They were a deeply resigned bunch. It had not been easy; while they were quietly accepting of our presence within the palisades, there was a palpable distance that was not so easily bridged. We were expected to stay out of the way and go about our own business, while they did the same. Father was entirely unfettered by this, for he spent the vast majority of his time away from the village. I had tried to integrate, but so far, Hazkar had been the only one genuinely responsive.
He inquired quite a lot about my circumstances, just as I did his. Being a complete non-entity to him was a novel experience for me. Within the Imperium, I was always treated with polite deference; even when contradicted or corrected, there was a rigid level of courtesy that one would not find among the common folk. My exalted station made it incredibly difficult to truly relate with anyone.
Even now, as Hazkar and I spoke on a regular basis, that isolation rang true. Where before the wall was created by my station, it was now upheld by lies. Lies I spun about my past, lies I spun about my intent, and the ultimate lie that was my very identity. Day by day, I wished to be gone from this place.
Father had meticulously travelled the length and breadth of the land surrounding the lake and had found barely anything of worth. Yet his will for discovery reigned supreme. He would go out every morn to look for something he might have missed, or something that relentlessly eluded him. Even now, he sat on a broken chair, reading through his detailed notes.
I rose from my makeshift bedroll.
"Good morning, Hermione."
"Good morning, Father," I replied, my voice low. "Still no clue regarding the origins of this safe haven?"
His emerald eyes drifted from his notes toward mine. "Not yet. But I know whatever the mysterious source is, it is not on the land. I am beginning to suspect that it lies deep within the lake itself. It would certainly be an interesting avenue to explore."
"How long do you suppose it will be before you find it?" I asked, more for my own sanity than his.
"Likely within a few days. I need to ascertain whether the lake's waters hinder any exploratory magic. If they do, I shall need to go in with protective measures of my own design. What about you? The last we spoke, you had only managed to talk with Hazkar on any matter of note," he said with mild interest, continuing to peruse his parchment.
"He has been helpful. A few of the villagers who did talk to me said they have known him ever since they came here. They say he came here over eight years ago and has little more than two or three years left before the insanity finally takes him." I paused, thinking how I had made so little progress with the rest of the village. "Most of the others, however, have still not accepted us as their own." I gave a poignant stare toward Father. "Most of that blame falls squarely upon your tendency to abandon the village come morning and return only in the dead of night."
Father chuckled softly. "It matters not what they think of me or my eccentricities. What matters is how capable you are in drawing them from their unfamiliarity."
"Not very capable, I reckon, seeing as how they speak naught but the bare minimum to me," I said, feeling a little dejected.
"It is hard for one to care when death is breathing down their throat every moment of every waking hour. They are resigned to their fates, but the acceptance of your condition and the acceptance of its ultimate end are two vastly different concepts. Having to live at the very seam of life and death is violently grating to the mind. I am not surprised by the people behaving the way they do. I am, however, surprised by Hazkar behaving the way he does. It seems unnatural for a man to be so open, welcoming, and seemingly unburdened by such a horrific condition. He seems like a man of untold mental fortitude." Father's profound sympathy for their plight was laid bare.
"I will keep that in mind the next time I have a chance to speak with them," I said honestly. "Hazkar mentioned he was taking me to a ruined shrine of Mother Rhoyne he found some distance from the village. It may provide some historical clues to our search for answers."
Father visibly perked up. "I did not see a shrine during my search of the perimeter. Be observant of it, Hermione, and let me know if you find anything magically strange."
"I will," I nodded.
Father then stood, gathering his few supplies before heading out into the gloom. I did not waste any time, swiftly getting to work myself. I needed to prepare for the day before I too headed out to meet Hazkar.