Wars of the Mist Chapter 1: Chapter 1: The Mist

Read chapter 1 of Wars of the Mist by leodib on NovelPedia.

I held the small Anchoring Stone between my fingers, spinning it absentmindedly with na agile, almost unconscious motion. It was a trick I had learned from a traveling performer who once came to the island. Of all my siblings, I was the only one who took the time to observe closely and master the precise, elegant rotation that kept the stone constantly in motion. Sunlight touched the smooth surface of the enchanted crystal, reflecting a pale bluish glow that danced in timid spirals across my skin. There was something hypnotic about that reflection, something that calmed me, if only for a short while. I closed my hand around the stone, feeling its cool texture against my warm palm. It was light, like any ordinary jewel, harmless in weight. But of inestimable value. The Anchoring Stone was not merely a magical tool; it was the only safe way to cross the mist that separated the Empire’s floating islands. I was from Vesuvia, home of House Vulkaris—my family, my inheritance, and, in many ways, my prison. The island was harsh and uneven ground, dominated by smoking volcanoes and rocks exposed to the constant wind. The trees grew crooked, the earth trembled from time to time, and heat seeped through the stone as a reminder that everything there could collapse at any moment. It was a land that did not forgive weakness. And it shaped its children in its own image: hard, resilient, abrasive. For as long as I could remember, I had never left. The only exception had been a brief journey in childhood, when I accompanied my father to Brumora, where a specialist examined my fractured mana core. I remembered little of the trip, but the memory of the freedom I felt upon leaving the island never faded. Today, for the first time, I would travel alone. And despite what anyone from my House might say, I was afraid. I drew a slow breath, trying to steady the tremor in my fingers. I closed my eyes and focused. Around me, the air vibrated with the subtle presence of ambient mana, like na invisible fragrance drifting through the currents of the world. I extended my perception, felt the pulse of that energy, and with effort pulled it into the stone. It was like trying to gather water with wounded hands: slow, painful, inefficient. The pressure in my chest increased. Cold sweat formed on my brow, slid down my temple, and disappeared into the collar of my tunic. The Anchoring Stone responded to the infusion of mana, its blue light intensifying, pulsing in rhythmic waves that reverberated up my arm. Gradually, na intricate rune began to form across its surface, alive, unfurling like a magical serpent, marking the programmed destination. My body ached. My mana core, fractured since birth, made any use of energy exhausting. Na effort that, for my siblings, was trivial—for me, it was a battle. In House Vulkaris, there was no room for failure. No mercy for the weak. I grew up hearing that a warrior without mana was worse than useless—a dead weight. And yet, I was still there. Weak, yes. But stubborn enough to endure. If there was any comfort, it was that because of this flaw, I had developed na unusual sensitivity to mana. I perceived invisible traces, subtle currents, nuances that escaped even the most experienced mages of the House. I felt the world differently. And sometimes, that was almost like power. My twin sister’s voice, Cassiopeia’s, cut through the thread of my thoughts like a blade. “Ready, Ganimedes?” Her tone was firm, but there was a hint of urgency beneath it. “If the Legion activates the armors, the mana will dry up and you won’t be able to trigger your stone. Your core, remember?” She was right. The armors devoured the available energy, and if we delayed, I would not be able to open a safe path through the mist. I nodded. “I know...” Cassiopeia frowned. “Go first.” I hesitated, but drew in a deep breath and made the stone shine again. I directed the ambient mana into it, activating its connection. The Anchoring Stone vibrated faintly, and th