When I’m sure that the soldiers aren’t following me anymore, when I’m sure they’ve left me to my fate, I skid to a stop on the bridge. I stand upon the gray dirt, panting, hardly able to see more than the hand in front of my face with how thick the haze is. Inside this vaporous shroud, sound is muffled. I no longer feel the lash of the wind or hear the Stone Swords or whatever commotion was coming further away from the castle. I can’t see any part of Seventh Kingdom either. It’s as if I’m in a different world. One where I’m utterly alone.
