Chapter 3: The Man from the Mist
His hope was that he could put some distance between himself and the swirling cloud before something happened. Maybe if he was able to get far enough away without it moving, he could make a run for it. Again, something told him that running would do no good.
The thoughts of his escape were dashed as he watched the mist finally begin to take a shape. The cloud spread out first, before it condensed and took the form of something solid. It formed into a dark shadow that had to be at least eight feet tall, with long slender arms and impossibly long, thin fingers.
It had no face or facial features, almost as though it was made from darkness completely. The form of the figure seemed to be both solid and constantly moving at the same time. It was something right out of a horror film and the dread it left him with had Desmond frozen in place. He honestly didn’t know if his legs could carry him if he tried to run now.
“Are you just going to stand there?” A low voice rumbled from somewhere behind him.
Desmond dared a glance over his shoulder and found another cloud of mist forming behind him. Before he could panic over another strange figure appearing from it, it formed into a tall man with hair as white as snow.
It was like Desmond was looking at someone right out of a movie. The man that had formed from mist had shoulder length hair, which fell in messy waves. He wore a long, dark tattered coat that reminded him of the typical pirate look. Passing rolled up sleeves, he caught a glimpse of similar tattoos as the one that had appeared on his shoulder. Tattoos that seemed to run down the length of his arms and disappear under a pair of fingerless gloves. All Desmond could do was stand there and gawk at the stranger.
The way he had arrived was terrifying in its own right, but he did not give Desmond the same sense of dread that the other figure did. In fact, the stranger left him with the opposite feeling. After meeting a silvery cool stare, it had him looking away from the stranger and a calming feeling washing over him. There was something about the man that arrived from his own cloud of mist, that he couldn’t place.
There was no time left to pick it apart though because no sooner had the stranger arrived, did the dark creature start to move towards him. Its unnaturally long arms and hands moved as though they were made of fluid. Those strange appendages stretched out towards Desmond at the same time that a low rumbling sound erupted from the creature.
Desmond turned his attention back to the tall shadowy figure and took a step backwards again. Terror had started to swell in his chest once more. Whether this was a dream or not, he knew that if that thing managed to touch him nothing good would happen.
“You really are useless,” the white-haired stranger spoke up again.
He watched the snowy haired man step in front of him with a confidence he had never seen before. Without a word, the stranger lifted his palm towards the shadow figure as though signaling it to stop. Then suddenly from his palm was a bright, white flash of light which shot forward and straight through the torso of the shadow creature.
Once the hole had been made in its body, the shadow figure squealed and flailed backwards. Its body shook rapidly while it became unstable. There was a final hissing squeal from the shadow figure before it faded into mist once more and disappeared when its mist rolled out across the pavement.
The whole ordeal left Desmond staring bewildered. He wasn’t sure what to make of what he had just seen. He was certain that he was still dreaming, but the feelings that had gone through him just now felt more real than anything else had so far.
If he wasn’t having a nightmare or some sort of fever dream, then he wasn’t sure what was going on. There was no way creatures like that could exist or that people could just come out of mist and have weird light powers.
None of it made any sense to him. He wanted now more than anything to just wake up back in his bed and forget that any of this had happened in the first place.
“So what, do you talk at all?” the stranger questioned.
His voice brought Desmond out of his thoughts. “N-no, I do… I just… I have no idea what’s happening. This has to be some kind of dream,” Desmond responded slowly.
“Heh. Sorry, it's not a dream,” the man scoffed and turned around to face him. “They all feel that way when they first discover this place.”
“What then? Did I die or something, is that what you mean?” There was a hint of panic now in Desmond’s tone.
The stranger just shook his head. “You wish. This is much worse than that. You’re in what we call The Echo.”
“What is that? And who are you anyway?” Desmond pressed.
“Listen, I don’t care to answer any of your questions. I only saved you this time because anything touched by the creatures from The Dark become one themselves. Honestly, I hate dealing with those things more than anything here. Do yourself a favor and find your way home and don’t come back. Got it?” The Man from the Mist’s tone was cold as he spoke and it matched the chilling look he gave Desmond.
“What? Wait a second! I don’t even know how I got here in the first place! You don’t have to be a jerk about it!” Desmond snapped back.
“If you really wanna know, then head to the only building in town with a light,” the Man answered. “Keep in mind though if you decide to keep showing up like this, I will kill you myself.”
“Woah! What?!” Desmond exclaimed.
Before Desmond could get any more answers from the mysterious white-haired stranger, he disappeared as he had come. His body simply dematerialized into a white cloud of mist that faded away.
The threat had seemed to come out of nowhere. Desmond didn’t even know what was going on or why he was there. Really, up until he had been told that he wasn’t in a dream, he was certain that he had been in one. The whole interaction he had had with the Man from the Mist had only left Desmond with more questions than he had started with upon his arrival there.
Then to be told that if he pursued this place he would be hunted and killed? He was sure that there was nothing he could learn about where he had ended up that would entice him to want to stay in a place like this. This weird reflection of his own city or whatever The Echo was.
There was one tidbit of useful information the man had given Desmond though before he left. If he wanted answers and probably even a way to get home, he would have to find his way to the only building with a light.
Desmond hadn’t ventured too far into the tall group of buildings nearby. Their lifelessness had left him feeling uneasy. But, if there was one in the mass of dark, gray buildings that was lit up then he was going to find it.
He didn’t want to run into another one of those dreadful shadows again and after his conversation with the stranger that saved him, Desmond wasn’t even sure he wanted to see him again either.