The Man In The Fog

The fog crept into the forest like an old, tattered curtain, wrapping around every leaf, every stone, every footprint in a veil of gray silence. The damp air clung to the skin, thick with the scent of earth, moisture, and something ancient—something long forgotten. I could feel tiny droplets of condensed dew collecting on my eyelashes as I walked alongside Merlin. We were both already exhausted—drained by everything that had been unfolding around us.Not a single word was spoken. It felt as though even a stray thought would echo like a gunshot in the thick hush around us.

Then, suddenly, a voice pierced the impenetrable whiteness."Don't be afraid..."A whisper—dry and hoarse—almost as if it belonged to the wind that had passed through bones.

We both stopped abruptly, turning toward the direction from which the sound had come. I quickly raised my gun, driven by fear and fatigue, aiming it into the white mist. Merlin gave me a quick signal to lower it.

"If you want to survive, follow me."

Out of the fog emerged the silhouette of a man—tall, cloaked in an old military jacket so patched it looked like a map of some unknown land. His hood shadowed his face, but his eyes... his eyes were the only thing clearly visible. They shimmered with a pale bluish hue, like ice caught in moonlight.

"Who are you?"My voice was neither calm nor firm. It trembled, taut like a string about to snap.

The man paused, then lowered the gun he was carrying and set it down before him."Just a traveler. Neither friend nor foe. But I know where you're headed. And who you're looking for. You won't find Roi if you go north."

Merlin and I exchanged a quick glance and holstered our weapons."What do you mean we won't find him?" I asked.

The man sighed deeply."We need to get out of here—it's too dangerous."

He gestured for us to follow. Still wary, we did.

"How do you know about Roi?" Merlin finally spoke, her voice neither afraid nor surprised, only focused—coldly concentrated.

The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer. I raised my gun again on instinct. I wasn't afraid of him—I was afraid of what he might say.

"Because I looked for him before you did. And I found him... but it was already too late. The Roi you remember is gone. Not dead, but as good as. He's sick, grievously wounded—it's only a matter of time before he dies."

The air grew even heavier, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

"I'll explain everything," he said again, "but please, let's get to safety."

We continued through low vegetation, bushes scraping our legs, and damp earth soaking into our boots. Each step was heavy—both physically and emotionally. After nearly an hour of trudging through the underbrush, we reached a clearing.

There, like a skeleton half-buried in the ground, stood an abandoned house—tilted, overgrown with ivy, its windows boarded up from the inside.

The man opened the door."I won't harm you. Roi was an old friend of mine. Come in."

Cautiously, we entered. Merlin stayed close to me, her presence a quiet reassurance. The house smelled of damp and decay, but it offered shelter.

I sat on an old mattress at the man's urging, and after a moment's hesitation, Merlin did the same. The man lit a small gas flame and began heating a bowl of water to make tea.

"Roi and I were close. We worked for the government," he said, stirring the tea.

"The Nortons conducted experiments on children... forced them to kill."

"To kill?" I interrupted.

"Yes."

He handed us cups of tea and sat on a chair beside us, staring pensively out the window.

"He and his brother founded that organization with noble intentions, but Gordon betrayed him—conducted experiments behind his back that were corrupt to the core."

"What do you mean they founded the organization?" Merlin asked, intrigued, leaning her hand against the bed.

"I know the government always gave us the best conditions... but in return, for their whims and to maintain order," she said, sighing. "Of course your leader never told you about the experiments—they were carried out on you. Both of you."

Merlin and I looked at each other in shock and fear. She sensed my distress and gently took my hand.

"On us?" I whispered.

"You, like all the other children, were subjected to that experiment," he continued.

"This is too much. How can we believe a man who appeared out of nowhere?" Merlin said, rising angrily.

"Wait," he said calmly. "Roi and I spent years trying to stop those experiments and save the children. We failed. The consequences are immense. Their focus was on mind control. That's why you, Devin, are experiencing what you are. Roi tried to save you—to break their control. And you, Merlin... do you remember anything before you ended up there, other than your time with Devin?"

Merlin sat down slowly, her gaze distant, fixed on the window."No..." she said quietly.

"You're both in danger. They'll find you," the man said, standing and approaching Merlin. She instinctively reached for her gun.

"Easy! I want to help. I have proof. Show me the back of your neck—there should be a chip."

Merlin froze, filled with fury and disbelief.

"Let him," I said gently. "I think he's telling the truth."

Merlin turned her head reluctantly as the man carefully felt along her neck. Finally, he found a small hard bump.

"That's nothing—I've always had that," she said dismissively.

The man took out a knife. Merlin reacted furiously.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Trust me, please."

He made a shallow cut and removed a small metallic pellet.

"That hurts!" she yelled.

We both turned away, but when we looked back, he held up the strange object.

"That's a chip. They tracked you with this. Controlled you. Everything you did—engineered through this device. Pure manipulation of the human mind."

I reached up and felt my own neck. Nothing.

"Roi removed yours," the man said softly.

Merlin was in shock—confused, furious.

"They can activate it anytime. Make you do anything. It's all pre-programmed."

We sat in stunned silence, absorbing his words like bricks sinking into water.

He turned to me, then looked at Merlin, "If your leader had chosen to, he could've made you kill her. But he didn't. Most likely, he wanted to reach Roi through you—and then discard you both."

Tears welled up in Merlin's eyes. The air itself grew heavy.

"I knew you'd come. Roi told me about the letter. I heard the Nortons and the gunfire—it led me to search. He told you to head north, but not to him. To me. He knew if he was too direct, you'd all be in danger. He told me everything."

"So I was someone's toy all along? Someone's experiment?" Merlin clenched her fists, trembling with rage. I reached out to calm her.

"I'm sorry," the man said, sipping the last of his tea. "But now that they can't track you anymore, I can show you where to go."

He stood and retrieved an old map from a drawer.

"This is the map of the Artonac community. It's where the survivors of the Lobring massacre and nearby regions live. Roi and I were part of the resistance before it even had a name," he said quietly, placing the map on the table. "Later, we called it the Artonac Community."

In that old wooden room, the dim glow of a lantern flickered across the map, illuminating veins of red ink marking escape routes, shelters, and abandoned bases.

I looked at the map, but my mind was blank, thundering with a storm I couldn't name. It all felt distant—like someone else's story. Yet it was ours. Mine. Merlin's. Our childhood. Our truth, hidden under layers of lies.

Merlin sat at the edge of the bed, holding a cloth to her wound. Her eyes were red—not just from pain, but from something deeper. Loss. Betrayal. And the most dangerous emotion of all: self-pity turning to rage.

"Uncle Roi?" I asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

"He was one of the first to try and reveal the truth. He disappeared when that truth became too dangerous," the man said hoarsely, every word dragging up something long-buried.

"If Roi was willing to sacrifice everything to warn us, why didn't he just tell us directly?" I asked, glancing at Merlin.

"Because he didn't want you captured. He believed you could handle the truth only once you were free of their control."

A long silence followed. Thick, muffling, inevitable.

"And you?" Merlin turned to him. "How do we know you're not one of them?"

The man met her gaze and, for the first time, pulled back his hood. His face was worn, scarred, but his eyes held something raw and real.

"I'm not one of them. But I once was. And I knew what we were doing. I saw the children taken for testing, had their memories stripped, chips implanted. We were told it was for their protection—that we were rebuilding them into soldiers. Silent. Obedient. Roi didn't believe me at first. Thought I was lying. Thought his brother would never do such a thing.

Do you know how many children went through that, Merlin? How many never returned?"

Merlin said nothing. Her head hung low, fists clenched. I gently touched her hand, and she lifted her gaze to mine. The fury was gone, replaced by something fiercer—a fire, quiet but burning.

And in that moment, in that decaying house in the middle of nowhere, among three broken souls, a new resolve was born.

No more running.No more searching.Now—return.

To the truth. To ourselves. To who we truly were.

The man unfolded the map and pointed to the southeast, where a red circle was drawn.

"There's the Artonac community. But you'll only reach it if you avoid the patrols near the Stone Valleys. This is your chance. If they recognize you, they'll protect you. Your stories are already spreading. And the truth... the truth will give them hope."

Merlin stood, firm and resolute, and looked at me with something that wasn't doubt or nostalgia—it was trust.

"Let's go," she said.

I nodded, glancing one last time at the man who had saved us—or at least opened the door to the truth.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

The man paused, then spoke without blinking.

"You can call me Eron."

We closed the door behind us, stepping once more into the dense forest. The fog had begun to lift, thinner now—as if nature itself was retreating before what was yet to come.