Not only did they speak the same city dialect, but the tension and uncertainty in the air were unmistakable.
Where am I? What am I meant to do here? Wei Chen echoed the questions the other two figures had just asked, steadying his breath as he took in the surreal scene.
What struck him most wasn't the words themselves, but the raw mix of confusion, fear, and awe on the faces of his unexpected guests.
Somehow, two strangers had been drawn into this world of endless gray mist. Wei, the inadvertent architect of their arrival, felt as lost as they did.
He considered two strategies: pretend to be a fellow victim to earn their trust, or maintain an air of mystery and authority, using the situation to gather information and shape events to his advantage. He chose the latter, seizing the moment.
After a tense silence, Wei let out a low, even chuckle. "An experiment," he replied, his voice echoing through the fog.
An experiment? The young woman, who had just moments ago been in her own home, found the whole situation absurd and terrifying. Still, she managed a polite, if slightly trembling, smile. "Sir, is your experiment finished? May we return?"
The older man, silent and guarded, simply observed.
Wei studied their silhouettes—one tall and fair-haired, the other broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed. Both seemed insubstantial, as if projected from distant crimson lights within the mist—connections he sensed more than saw.
He realized: as the one who had initiated the ritual, he was the host here. They were guests, bound to him by the strange forces of this place.
He turned to the woman, answering with a slight nod. "If you wish, you may return. All you need do is ask."
Relief flickered in her eyes, but curiosity soon overtook it. "Sir, what is this place? Is it… a miracle? I've always dreamed of encountering the unknown. Is there a way for someone like me to become… more?"
Wei hid his own uncertainty behind a thoughtful pause, letting the atmosphere build. The fog churned, and suddenly the three of them found themselves seated in a vast, shadowy hall—a domed chamber supported by ancient pillars, with a long obsidian table and high-backed chairs etched with cryptic sigils.
The woman's eyes widened in wonder. "This is… incredible."
Wei rested his hand on the cold surface of the table, feigning calm.
The man finally spoke, his voice steady. "If you seek power beyond the ordinary, there are paths: the Cathedral's hidden orders, the Guild of the Veiled, the old noble houses. But all require sacrifice, and none are without risk. Those who walk the hidden ways—Covenant-bearers—are rare, and their numbers dwindle."
The woman nodded, her excitement barely contained. "But is there no other way? No secret path, no forgotten ritual?"
The man hesitated, then turned to Wei. "Perhaps our host knows more."
Wei let the silence linger, then spoke: "There are always secrets in the city's shadows. Some are written in old blood, some whispered in dreams. But every bargain has a price."
The man leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I possess two entry rites—one for the Path of the Ferryman, granting mastery of water and passage, and one for the Path of the Witness, for those who seek to see without being seen. But the rites require rare ingredients, and trust is hard to come by."
The woman's eyes shone. "How can I earn such a rite?"
The man replied, "Bring me the feather of a river harpy, and the formula is yours. Our host can bear witness to the exchange."
Both turned to Wei, looking for his judgment.
Wei straightened, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He let the weight of the moment settle before replying, "In this place, all bargains are seen. I will witness your pact, as is tradition under the Silent Covenant."
The woman's eyes sparkled with hope, and the man nodded solemnly.
She hesitated, then asked, "Sir, how should we address you?"
Wei smiled, the shadows flickering across his face. "You may call me… the Veiled Arbiter."