I watched as Hazkar settled heavily onto the damp earth within his luminous cage. His broad shoulders slumped in defeat, completely shedding the majesty of the ancient river deity we had just battled. He looked up at Father and me, his one good eye reflecting a millennium of impossibly heavy burdens.
"I had been resting deep within the waters of the lake, recovering from a long, exhausting battle against Sartan," Hazkar began, his gravelly voice echoing softly within the confines of the divine prison.
"Who is Sartan?" I asked, unable to entirely suppress my curiosity.
"He was the Crab King," the Old Man answered, a wistful sorrow briefly flashing across his petrified features. "A fierce rival, yet a true brother of the waters. We had set aside our endless quarrel for the evening, floating peacefully beneath the moonlight. We were singing an ancient song taught to us by the Last Hero ages ago."
Father remained perfectly still, his glowing emerald eyes fixed intently upon the prisoner, silently analysing every single word for deceit.
"Suddenly, the very ground beneath the waters began to violently shake," Hazkar continued, his gaze dropping to his scaled hands. "The lake swelled with unnatural fury and rapidly flooded, violently submerging the entirety of the mortal town surrounding its banks. Both Sartan and I breached the churning surface to see what was happening, only to witness absolute devastation all around us."
Hazkar paused, taking a slow, ragged breath before pressing onward.
"Sartan immediately placed his massive claws upon the trembling earth, attempting to commune with the bedrock to ascertain what had caused such a cataclysm. When he finally pulled away, he was utterly shocked by the grim truth he had unearthed. 'Something terrible has happened at Chroyane,' Sartan told me, his voice trembling with unfamiliar dread. 'Mother has descended.'"
The mention of Mother Rhoyne sent a cold shiver racing down my spine, reminding me of the towering, flawless statue hidden within the temple.
"Before we could even think about rushing to her side, another massive quake shattered the landscape," Hazkar recalled grimly. "We could physically feel the raw mana being violently drained from our immediate surroundings. That was when the grey mist began to take its unnatural shape, rolling heavily over the flooded ruins. Paying the foul fog no heed whatsoever, we both ran directly into it, desperate to reach Chroyane."
The Old Man shook his head, a bitter, humourless chuckle escaping his lips.
"But the mist was a confounding mystery. We ran for what felt like hours, burning our divine energy, only to emerge exactly where we had started on the muddy banks of our lake. Deep frustration began to fiercely gnaw at our minds. It was then that I looked closely at the ruined town and realised that the mortals had all died. Not a single soul had survived the flooding and the arrival of the mist."
The heavy silence of the dead forest seemed to press inward against the glowing bars of the prison.
"Amidst that suffocating and deathly silence, we finally heard a voice echoing through the gloom," Hazkar whispered, his gaze locking directly with mine. "My children, come to me." My breath caught painfully in my throat. I understood his pain. The pain of a mother's call and the pain of the child unable to answer it.
"That is exactly how my endless search for my mother began," Hazkar confessed, his tone dropping into a chilling, hollow register. "And so did all the terrible atrocities and unforgivable sins I committed in order to find her."
He paused a moment as wistfulness littered his eyes before continuing.
"For many long decades, Sartan and I searched endlessly for a way to permanently remove the cursed mist," he explained, his voice hollow and deeply exhausted. "We unleashed our most devastating divine attacks, attempting to forcefully shatter the fog with our raw, elemental power. When our ancient magic ultimately failed us, we resorted to the absolute simplest of mortal methods. We tied massive tethers of thick vines to the shoreline, hoping to physically navigate the shifting, impossible maze."
Hazkar shook his heavy, scaled head in slow defeat. "Nothing we attempted ever helped. The mist simply swallowed our divine magic and hopelessly tangled our woven tethers, leaving us exactly where we had started."
He shifted slightly within the glowing perimeter of the divine prison, his heavy shell scraping against the mud.
"Then, the foolish, greedy mortals began arriving from the outside world," Hazkar continued grimly. "Desperate treasure hunters and ambitious scavengers wandered blindly into the thick gloom, easily lured by the legendary, sunken riches of fallen Chroyane. But the mist is a cruel prison. When those poor souls finally realized they could never leave the boundary, the oppressive isolation completely broke their fragile minds. They grew entirely mad from the unrelenting, gnawing hunger, eventually perishing in the cold, damp mud."
I felt a sharp pang of sympathy for those nameless explorers. Remembering the foul, purplish mushrooms sprouting from the dead gelding, I could easily imagine the profound desperation that must have consumed them before the end.
"It was only after those initial waves of miserable death that the Stone Men finally emerged from the fog," the Old Man recounted, his single good eye narrowing in thought. "They were deeply curious, horrific creatures born entirely of the cursed terrain. Sartan and I watched them closely from the relative safety of the dark waters. As we carefully observed their rabid, mindless wanderings, we realized a profound but startling truth about their existence."
He leaned forward, pressing his large, petrified hands against his knees.
"Despite their grotesque, petrified flesh and shattered minds, these afflicted people actively carried a distinct, lingering touch of ancient Rhoynar magic upon their souls," Hazkar revealed, his voice dropping into a reverent whisper. "Woven deeply into the very fabric of their deadly curse were the unmistakable, divine traces of Mother Rhoyne herself. That is why we took mortal form to commune with these stonemen. It would reveal much to us but it would also lead me down a path of sin I would never be able to cleanse myself of. It started with a killing."
Father glared at him "You killed him. You killed the Crab King"
Hazkar lowered his head in shame.
I remained entirely silent, letting the heavy weight of his brutal confession settle into the damp earth. Hazkar did not ask for my forgiveness or understanding. He merely stared blankly into the gloom, completely lost in the terrifying expanse of his own memories.