Chapter 11: Aftermath.
The birth of the first Lantern Bearer was pure chance.
Or rather, when the first Black Tide erupted and countless Black Domain demons poured into the world of light, Holy Lord Sura finally revealed Himself to His despairing children, bestowing the light of hope to conquer darkness.
Vigil Year 242: young church martial monk Atos, fighting demons, discovered he was immune to the fog. Alone, in near-martyrdom, he crossed the churning barrier into the forbidden black world.
When Atos returned, scarred and battered, the once-shy, devout, brave youth wielded astonishing power.
Black mist swirled over him like living armor. Each weapon swing sliced demons as easily as butter.
That lone figure battling endless fog became legend—the first dawn in the age of darkness. Atos earned endless praise from empire and church.
To unlock his near-miraculous secret, top royal scholars and wisest archbishops poured unimaginable resources.
The first Black Tide war was brutal—yet fortunate. Atos brought not just hope, but knowledge: precious Black Domain secrets carried back.
By the second Tide’s eve, vital holy water, holy oil, and corruption cures were perfected and spread. For post-migration survivors, Atos was the first lamp in endless night.
…
Vigil Year 835, July, Month of Endless Day.
Iceberry’s wheat fields gleamed golden seas. Full ears shone with harvest promise—one month to reaping.
Yet joy was absent. Heavy gloom cloaked the village.
Half a month ago, Chief Mocus and two villagers who risked all at the lead wall fell forever.
Exposed less than ten minutes, their bodies erupted in grotesque black lesions. Faces, torsos, limbs twisted horrifically. They died in agony.
Finn’s long, mournful eulogy preceded burial in the quiet northern valley. Iceberry had to live on.
At the chief’s home, anxious villagers crowded. All eyes fixed on the bed, awaiting Maren’s awakening.
The girl’s terrifying black spots from prolonged fog exposure had miraculously faded. Scarce holy water and drugs worked beyond expectation.
Not luck—proof of Lantern potential. Maren had passed the trial’s first two brutal corruption tests the hardest way.
Stand fifteen minutes within thirty meters of the barrier without falling: first filter. Then direct fog contact five minutes with no visible corruption: qualification to explore the Black Domain.
No guarantee of becoming a Lantern Bearer, but few passed even these.
Cary showed zero traces—further proof of his “god-blessed” status. Maren teetered on death’s edge for half a month before stirring.
“Now tell me the truth. Why take Maren to Nightdew Valley in secret?”
Renat carefully fed precious corruption medicine to Maren’s lips, voice low, not turning. “You resist fog. Maren? Did you consider her danger?”
Cary sat cross-legged on the floor, head down, kneading knees. “I… wanted to see wall repairs…”
“For your curiosity, drag Maren too?!”
Renat stepped before him, tiny frame trembling with rage, hand rising—slap imminent. “Think that excuses your sin?!”
She knew her son too well. He lied, shouldering all blame.
“Maren! She’s awake!”
Nora’s tearful cry at bedside. The crowd surged, cutting Renat’s feigned fury short.
On the bed, Maren’s eyes opened slowly, staring blankly at rough beams, as if waking from a long, hazy dream.
“Holy Lord bless, my poor Maren…” Nora clutched her sister’s pale wrist, tears streaming.
“You’re safe, Maren.”
Finn parted the crowd, traced a triangular sign on her forehead, sighed. “You passed the first two Lantern tests early. Rest one day, then up.”
Maren’s eyes shifted slowly, mind returning. Confirmed safe, all but Nora left with mixed feelings.
…
One day later, North Hill cemetery. Maren’s muffled sobs echoed.
Renat and Finn stood on a ridge, silently watching the graves and weeping girl below.
“Renat, the village elects you chief.” Finn broke long silence, white hair glaring in endless sun, face earnest.
“Do I deserve it?” Renat didn’t turn, gaze shifting from village smoke to distant gray mountains, lips self-mocking. “Shouldn’t I bear blame for Mocus’s death?”
She knew: villagers’ pragmatic choice. Her staying, Cary’s future as Lantern—huge gains for Iceberry.
Imperial law: any village producing a Lantern Bearer got half land tax waived for ten years.
For poor mountain folk, irresistible. This lure drove generations into the cruel Lantern trial pit.
“Mocus is with the Holy Lord. You and Cary are our only hope.” Finn sighed, helpless. “You can’t dodge this duty… or their hopes.”
He knew: villagers binding mother and son.
Death was common in this fog-adjacent, battered village. Survival—and better survival—was the real concern.
“…Fine.” Renat paused, nodded, voice calm but heavy. “I’ll serve as chief… until Cary becomes a Lantern Bearer.”
Finn’s tense shoulders relaxed. He exhaled long.
…
Village center, gravel square. Cary stood lost, eyes sweeping familiar homes and distant wheat.
Passing villagers—young, old—cast the usual mix of envy and fawning. But today, a new thread: subtle… fear.
The sun never set, light pouring freely. Yet Cary felt no warmth. His hanging hands trembled uncontrollably.
He drew his short sword instinctively. Cold steel on fingers triggered memories: blade slicing flesh, warm blood spray still lingering.
He had ended a life so easily… a despised, evil subwoman. Yet in that swing—no hesitation.
Was this the bone-deep ruthlessness the desperate age bred in all who fought to live?
“Look! Wagons—lots!”
Children’s shouts shattered square’s quiet. Kids scattered like startled birds, racing to the village gate.
Far off, a long caravan wound down the mountain road, slowly approaching Iceberry.