Trying to convince a yordle was about as useful as explaining philosophy to a cow. Knowing that perfectly well, Luke decided to change the subject.
He leaned down, moved closer to Poppy, pointed toward Garen, and lowered his voice. "Look at him. Doesn't he seem more like the hero you were talking about?"
"He does." Poppy looked over seriously and nodded. "But not as much as you."
Luke: "..."
He suddenly had the feeling this little shorty was ranking them by looks.
The hammer itself was definitely a good thing.
The problem was, he couldn't use it.
Compared to Poppy, who brought good luck, that hammer of hers was more like a bad-luck hammer.
The kind where anyone who touched it got cursed.
Over the years, Poppy had handed it to all kinds of people while searching for a hero worthy of wielding it.
And the result was that most of the people who used it ended up spectacularly unlucky.
Only when she used it herself did absolutely nothing happen.
Of course, that wasn't really Poppy's fault. The problem was with the hammer.
And on top of that, Poppy was a straightforward yordle. Once she decided something, she rarely changed her mind.
So the moment she set her sights on someone, that person was doomed. It worked even better than a curse.
Luke had no interest in becoming that person. Sure, Orlon was his ancestor, but the two of them weren't exactly close.
Orlon might not protect him at all.
And from what he had heard, Orlon wasn't even the hammer's real owner.
Now that Poppy was clearly starting to latch onto him, Luke had no choice but to pull out the age-old method of better him than me.
He kept his voice low and coaxing. "Do you know who that is?"
Poppy tilted her head. "Garen?"
"You know his name, but you don't know his story."
Luke put on a mysterious look and began. "He comes from House Crownguard. You know the Crownguards, right?"
Poppy nodded. "I do."
Not only did she know them, she had fought alongside quite a few members of the family back in the day.
"The Crownguards are a legendary family of heroes, and Garen, the one and only Garen, is the bravest and most gifted man they've produced in the last hundred years."
Luke's face was dead serious as he launched into it. "If someone wrote down all the stories about him, it would take an entire book. If you heard everything about him, I think you'd change your mind."
Poppy's eyes lit up as she listened, and she nodded while staring at Garen's back.
Off in the distance, Garen suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. Instinctively sensing that something was off, he turned his head and looked back.
He immediately saw Luke sneaking glances his way with the yordle who had just joined them today.
His face darkened. He had a strong feeling this wasn't anything good.
Caught in the act, Luke gave him an innocent smile, then calmly withdrew his gaze and pulled Poppy down to sit beside him. "Let me explain it properly."
Poppy nodded. "Okay."
Half an hour later.
Luke's mouth was getting dry from talking. He looked at Poppy beside him and said, "I've only covered about a third of his story. There's just too much. I could never finish it all."
Poppy's eyes were still sparkling, and every now and then she sneaked another glance at Garen.
Luke asked, "So now, between me and him, who seems more like a hero?"
Poppy said, "Still you."
Luke: "..."
He looked at her innocent little face.
So all that talking had been for nothing?
She really was just going by looks.
"Why?" he asked, genuinely baffled.
Poppy answered with complete sincerity, "Because of the feeling. Feelings are strange. In all these years, no one has ever given me the same feeling you do. I feel like you're the one who can use this hammer."
Luke stared at her with a grave expression. "No. I feel like I'm not."
Poppy stared right back, equally serious. "No. You are."
"...I've done a lot of bad things. You probably just don't know about them."
Running out of options, Luke decided to solve the problem by tearing himself down. "I still steal candy from kids. I bully little blond girls whenever I get the chance. I've swindled a lot of money and told a lot of lies... and I don't feel guilty about any of it. Half the time I'm proud of myself for it."
A crooked, wicked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Poppy's eyes shone even brighter. "Being brave enough to admit the wrong things you've done means you already have one of the qualities of a hero!"
Luke: "..."
The smile disappeared from his face at once.
He stared at Poppy, suddenly at a complete loss for words.
Yordles had issues.
Serious issues.
Why did she always manage to come at things from angles like this?
Luke simply could not figure it out.
Once again, he had proved through painful experience that normal logic did not apply to yordles.
"Anyway, I am not using this hammer!"
Looking at Poppy's shining eyes, Luke rejected her with complete seriousness.
Poppy said hopefully, "Maybe you could try it first. What if you change your mind?"
"No. Not happening."
Luke refused with absolute firmness.
No matter what, he was not using that hammer.
This whole anyone who touched it got cursed thing was not a joke.
Poppy lowered her head a little, looking disappointed. This wasn't the first time she had been turned down.
But she quickly pulled herself together again, her fighting spirit restored, clearly unwilling to give up just like that.
By then, Luke had already started walking toward his room.
Poppy picked up her hammer and hurried after him in little quick steps. "What are you going to do?"
"Get some liquor," Luke said.
The moon was beautiful tonight, bright and white as snow, spreading over the sea and making every rolling wave shimmer.
Luke took out a bottle of liquor and sat casually near the tip of the bow, so close to the edge that one little shift forward would send him overboard.
But he sat there steady and relaxed, cool sea wind blowing past him while moonlight spilled over his body, giving him a wild, unrestrained air.
Following behind him, Poppy felt like he had stepped right out of a painting.
"Come sit."
Luke glanced sideways at Poppy and beckoned.
So Poppy sat beside him, her short little legs resting against the side of the ship while the wind tossed her silver-white hair.
Luke asked, "Why do you want to give this hammer to someone else?"
Poppy answered, "Because that was the mission he entrusted to me. I swore an oath for it."
"Who?"
"Orlon."
Luke poured himself a cup and took a sip. "Same name as Demacia's first king."
"It is him," Poppy said.
Whenever she told people about Orlon, most of them reacted as if she were saying something ridiculous. They thought it sounded like a child's joke and never took her seriously.
After all, how could someone living now have known a person from more than six hundred years ago?
But Luke didn't seem surprised in the slightest. A faint smile rested on his lips as he said, "That was over six hundred years ago. So you've been searching this whole time. Don't you get tired?"
That calm acceptance was exactly what made Poppy feel he was different from everyone else.
"Tired?"
She scratched her head at the question. "Not really. It's just that when I can't find the person, I get a little down."
She said it like six hundred years wasn't all that long.
Luke looked at her. "A truly great hero... Demacia has plenty of people like that, doesn't it?"
"But they either refuse to use it like you do, or they're still not quite enough for it, or I can't find them at all."
Poppy sighed, looking dejected. "Lately I've been looking for a hero called the Demon Slayer, but I'm always one step behind... That kind of thing happens all the time."
She had realized that she always arrived just a little too late.
Whenever she heard about some great hero and went to follow the trail, they had already left.
So she kept chasing.
And never quite caught up.
Again and again.
Again and again...
Luke smiled, though he had no intention of exposing the truth. "That just means the timing isn't right yet."
Poppy nodded in agreement. "I think so too."
She lowered her head, and the light in her big eyes dimmed a little. Clearly, all of this had brought her mood down.
Luke then asked, "Is the hammer really that powerful?"
"It's incredibly powerful!"
Poppy looked up at once, her tone full of certainty.
Curious, Luke said, "Tell me about it. And about Orlon."
"This is a sacred hammer, made for the greatest hero Demacia will ever know. That person will unleash all of the hammer's divine power, crushing everything in their path and shaking the heavens and earth! Only that person can protect Demacia's unity and strength!"
The moment she started talking about the hammer and Orlon, Poppy perked right back up and spoke eagerly.
"When I met Orlon, he was already carrying the hammer on his back, but he told me it wasn't his weapon. People hardly ever saw him use it, but I saw it once. There was this huge, huge dragon."
Poppy spread her arms wide, trying to show just how enormous the dragon had been.
"It went roar and blasted out this scorching fire and burned up a huge stretch of people's crops, food, and houses. Then Orlon showed up! With the hammer!"
"He jumped up, yelled, slammed it down, and the dragon just dropped. Then we ate dragon meat for a really long time."
By the time she got to that part, Poppy's eyes were shining.
And from the look on her face, she could still remember exactly how the dragon meat tasted.
Luke fell silent for a second. It had to be said, the little shorty's storytelling skills were... lacking.
After thinking it over, he asked, "Was dragon meat good?"
"No," Poppy answered honestly. "But everyone eating it together made it fun."
Luke laughed softly and then asked, "Why did Orlon say the hammer wasn't his weapon?"
"I don't know. That's just what he told me. Then he asked me to find the Demacian hero who could truly use it."
Poppy shook her head.
Luke looked at her and reached out to pat her on the head.
Because of a promise she had made to a friend, she had walked this land for six hundred years.
She had protected who knew how many people.
But for Poppy, it wasn't painful. If anything, she loved doing it.
Because compared to other yordles, who were whimsical and unpredictable and full of bizarre ideas, what Poppy wanted was a purpose in life.
In her mind, without a purpose, she would become unbearably pitiable and then grow old and die in that misery.
But fortunately, she had found one.
And that purpose, right now, was to search for a great Demacian hero who fundamentally did not exist.
Because of that, she had never stopped in six hundred years.
From the story Poppy told, Orlon couldn't possibly have not been the hammer's owner.
But maybe he had realized that himself, and that was why he gave Poppy that mission before he died.
Luke then said, "Come to think of it, Orlon is my ancestor."
Poppy froze for a moment, blinking those wide eyes at Luke before finally reacting. "So you're... the king's son?"
Even after spending a whole day with Luke, he had never actually introduced himself.
And Poppy, simple as ever, had never thought to connect the dots.
"Luke Lightshield."
Only then did Luke finally give his name.
At once, Poppy recognized it. It felt like she had heard people talking about Luke in quite a few places lately.
"No wonder I thought you seemed familiar..."
She looked suddenly enlightened, then immediately turned excited again. "Then that means you should use the hammer even more. Maybe you could do what Orlon did."
This time Luke didn't reject her outright. Instead, he said, "I've heard the stories of the Demon Slayer too. I think that hero is more suitable than I am. So how about this? Follow me for now. You know who I am. Later, I'll help you search for the Demon Slayer. If we can't find that hero, then I'll use the hammer. Deal?"
The moment she heard that, Poppy nodded immediately. "Deal!"
In her mind, the Demon Slayer might not be found at all, and if that happened, Luke would accept the hammer.
Which basically meant Luke had already accepted the hammer.
Thinking about it that way, Poppy felt like she was only one step away from fulfilling her goal, and excitement welled up in her heart.
It was only after that thought hit her that she began wondering what she would even do once she finally handed the hammer over.
That was a little troubling.
While Poppy was already thinking ahead to what came after passing on the hammer, she completely missed the sly grin that flashed through Luke's eyes.
Little shorty, now that you've agreed, you're not getting away.
Heh heh heh.
Luke's face remained perfectly calm as he somehow produced another cup and poured her a drink. "Come on. Let's have a toast."
Poppy didn't really drink much, but she thought today was a good day and worth celebrating, so she accepted the cup.
"Then it's settled. If we can't find the Demon Slayer, I'll take the hammer. Until then, you stick with me."
Luke extended his cup to confirm it.
"Mhm!"
Poppy nodded without a trace of suspicion, happily clinking her cup against his.
With a bright chime, the cups touched, and Luke drained his in one smooth pull.
Poppy copied him and boldly tossed back the whole cup in one gulp.
Then she immediately started coughing from the burn.
What Luke hadn't expected was that Poppy wasn't just like little blondie when it came to appetite. Her alcohol tolerance was almost the same too.
That single cup had barely gone down when, just a few seconds later, she let out a little hiccup, her eyes unfocused for two beats, and her body tipped sideways.
In another two seconds, she would have fallen straight into the ocean.
Luke quickly reached out and caught her in midair by the back, looking at Poppy's drunken face with helpless disbelief.
A legendary one-cup lightweight?
Picking Poppy up, Luke carried her back and happened to meet Vayne's gaze.
There was a hint of contempt in her eyes as she looked over. "Did you drug her?"
Luke's face darkened. "What are you even saying?"
He handed Poppy over to Vayne. "Take her and settle her in somewhere."
Vayne accepted Poppy and lowered her dark eyes to look at her dizzy little face.
She had to admit, it was kind of adorable.
She suddenly realized she seemed to have no resistance at all to Poppy.
Without answering Luke, Vayne turned and carried Poppy back to the room.
Luke watched for a moment, then returned to where he had been before, reclining against the bow while drinking and watching the moon.
After finishing the whole jug, there was a faint buzz of intoxication on his face as well.
He stood up and went looking for Garen.
"Still no word from the Dauntless squad?"
Garen had just finished a full day of training and was resting in place. Hearing the question, he shook his head. "Nothing."
Luke asked again, "How much longer until we arrive?"
"About one day," Garen answered briefly.
Then both of them fell silent, their eyes turning to the surface of the sea at the same time.
A few days earlier, the capital had sent out a Dauntless Vanguard squad to investigate what was happening in Dawnhold.
But ever since the squad departed, there had been no contact at all.
Now so many days had passed, and a well-trained team still hadn't sent back a single message.
The odds were not good.
At this point, all Luke and the others could do was pray that nothing else happened in Dawnhold before they got there.
One day later.
September 8, 3:00 p.m.
Seven Dauntless Vanguard ships docked at the waterfront city of Dawnhold.
Like most Demacian cities, Dawnhold had been built along the mountains, with clusters of buildings spreading out in rings and layers. It looked quite impressive.
The harbor was packed with ships, big and small, and they were not all fishing vessels.
This city, backed by mountains and facing the sea, had built a sizable economy on fishing and maritime trade.
It was a little more than twice the size of Edessa.
Many fishing boats were moored along the shore. It should have been peak season for the catch, but now they were all sitting idle.
Naturally, that was because of the recent string of missing-ship incidents.
After disembarking, Luke felt his whole body relax the moment his feet were back on solid ground.
Before long, the lord of Dawnhold arrived after receiving word, leading a group with him.
"Your Highness. Lord Crownguard."
He bowed before the two men. "I am Pascal, lord of Dawnhold."
"At ease."
Luke answered, then got straight to the point. "Have there been any strange events lately?"
"Other than fishermen seeing dark clouds that appear and disappear out at sea, nothing unusual," Pascal replied, still keeping his head lowered. "However... another fishing boat has gone missing."
Before Luke could ask, Pascal continued.
"Five days ago, following the capital's instructions, I issued a no-sail order. But the fishermen who live along the coast depend on going out to sea to survive. Because of the missing vessels and the order, they did not dare sail openly.
"But the night before last, one fishing boat left the harbor in secret and went out anyway. It still has not returned."
Pascal looked helpless as he spoke.
It wasn't exactly his fault. Dawnhold was a large city. There was no way he could keep an eye on everyone.
In the end, matters like this depended on people following the rules willingly.
But fishermen still had to eat. If they didn't go out, they didn't make money, and then the ones who went hungry would not be just one person.
This could not be dragged out any longer.
Luke had someone bring over a map of the region around Dawnhold.
Behind the city were mountain ranges. To the right was the sea, the direction Luke and his fleet had come from. To the north was an island.
And to the west, on the left side, lay the Conqueror's Sea.
If the Harrowing came, Dawnhold itself would not actually be the most dangerous place.
The most dangerous places would be the people living on the island to the north, and the villages along the western coast.
At the moment, it was still possible to say the Harrowing had not yet arrived, but that thing could come at any time.
"Have the defensive lines been set up?" Luke asked.
Pascal answered, "They have. Following your orders, five days ago we began preparing defensive lines on the northern island and in the western villages, and we also had the local residents temporarily evacuate into Dawnhold."
At present, all of Dawnhold's thirty-five hundred troops had already been dispatched to those two locations.
He did not know why the prince had ordered such a large mobilization and defensive preparation there.
But he had obeyed anyway.
After all, Luke outranked him. He was not only a prince now, but also a major general.
Even the Dauntless Vanguard units that had been sent here were now under his command.
"As long as the defenses are set, keep them in place," Luke said with a nod.
Because he couldn't be sure exactly when the Harrowing would arrive, he had written ahead to Dawnhold before setting out and ordered them to begin preparations early.
What he feared was the Harrowing arriving before they did.
If that happened, by the time Luke and the others got there, all they would be able to do was deal with the aftermath.
After collecting a copy of the map, Luke and the others returned to the ships and prepared to set out again.
After all, they couldn't just sit there waiting for the Harrowing to come.
At this point, three fishing boats had gone missing.
One hundred twenty-eight people in total.
One Dauntless Vanguard squad, eight people total.
And one Sentinel of Light, Lamins.
Right now, Luke could confirm that the reason for their disappearance was the Black Mist.
But whether they were alive or dead was still unknown, so he had to look for them.
And besides that, Luke also wanted an earlier understanding of the Black Mist itself.
Most importantly, there was Lamins.
At present, he was the one person who knew the most about the Black Mist and the Harrowing along Demacia's coastal frontier. Finding him was the only way to understand the current situation better.
Before long, five Dauntless warships set out in the direction Luke specified.
Luke left behind two hundred fifty men, sending them to reinforce both defensive lines. At the same time, Garen, Frey, Sona, Quinn, and several others remained behind.
That was in case the Harrowing struck while they were out at sea.
If something like that really happened, the shoreline defenses would not necessarily be any safer than the group sailing out to investigate.
Luke would actually have preferred to stay behind himself.
But he was the one who understood the Black Mist best at the moment, so personally leading the investigation was the best option.
And because Vayne insisted so strongly, she came with them as well.
The remaining force, about four hundred people, departed with Luke.
Inside Luke's cabin on the ship, he spread out the detailed map of the area around Dawnhold and Lucian's letter.
Then he took out the relic of light and placed it on the letter.
Not long after, the writing on the page formed the shape of a map.
And on that map was a red dot showing where Lamins had been at the time.
That location was already five or six days old now. No one knew what had happened to Lamins since then.
But wherever he had been, there had to be trouble there.
Based on the location of the red dot and the map, Luke could determine that Lamins had been on an island.
The direction matched, and it would take around eight hours by ship.
After putting the letter away, Luke went back outside.
He fixed his gaze on the vast sea and watched in silence.
On board, the Dauntless Vanguard soldiers and Luke's personal guards had all changed into gleaming silver armor.
Forged from Demacian steel, the armor fit them perfectly, tight and well-shaped, with flexible joints that did not hinder movement in the slightest.
They sharpened and checked their weapons, all of them preparing for battle.
The capital had sent a total of two companies and one reserve force.
That alone was enough to tell them this incident was no simple matter.
And on top of that, the prince himself was leading the mission.
Along the way, he had repeatedly stressed just how dangerous this investigation would be.
That had kept everyone on high alert.
Of the Dauntless Vanguard soldiers participating in the mission, half had gone to Edessa before and had seen what Luke was capable of.
So they took his words seriously.
And so the fleet sailed for around six hours.
By nine at night, the sky had already gone dark.
Yet even in the night, the horizon somehow looked darker still.
At that moment, someone came to report.
"Your Highness, there's a fishing boat ahead!"
At those words, Luke stood and immediately headed outside.
Under the night sky ahead, a fishing vessel sat quietly on the sea, drifting forward slowly.
There was not a single light aboard, and not a single person in sight.
It was silent in a way that felt deeply wrong.
"Bring us alongside it," Luke ordered.
Five minutes later, Luke's ship had drawn up beside the fishing vessel.
This fishing boat was somewhat smaller than the Dauntless warship, probably able to carry forty or fifty people.
Once they got close, everyone could see that the boat looked oddly old, its timbers worn and ragged as if it had weathered many years.
That made it impossible to tell at a glance whether it was one of the three ships that had vanished from Dawnhold.
Everyone was on guard now.
"Search the boat!"
After looking it over and sensing no immediate danger, Luke gave the order.
A series of thuds sounded as one soldier after another jumped over onto the other ship, their boots landing on the deck as they began searching.
Luke leaped over as well.
He wandered across the ship without any clear direction, dragging his right hand lightly across the railing. When he raised his hand to look at it, there was barely any dust.
Which meant this definitely wasn't some ancient vessel.
For it to look this decayed now, it must have gone through something.
After that, he made his way to the captain's cabin, where Cithria was already searching.
When she saw Luke arrive, she reported, "Your Highness, the captain's name was Kahn. It matches the name of the captain of the fishing vessel that disappeared the night before last."
That confirmed it.
This was the same ship that had secretly sailed out two nights ago.
"There are no signs of fighting anywhere on board... Where did everyone go?"
Cithria frowned and continued searching.
Ever since she stepped onto the ship, she had felt that there was something strange about every part of it.
The fishing boat that sailed out that night had carried thirty-eight people.
Now it was isolated on the open sea, with no obvious signs of battle.
So where had the people gone?
"Your Highness! We found someone!"
A shout rose from below deck.
At once, Luke and Cithria hurried toward the source of the voice.
There, they found a man around thirty years old, dressed in ragged cloth clothes, pale-faced, huddled in a corner and trembling in terror.
He was muttering the same thing over and over under his breath.
"They came back... they came back..."
His mental state was extremely unstable. It was as if he didn't even register the many people standing around him.
Luke narrowed his eyes and looked him over, studying the black-violet mist coiling around his body and the purple light flickering in his eyes. A thoughtful expression crossed his face.
When they saw Luke approach, the soldiers stepped aside.
Luke walked forward and said, "What came back?"
"They... they came back!"
The man suddenly threw his head up. Under that extreme fear, his voice had turned hoarse and shrill. His eyes were wide as he clutched his head and rocked violently.
"They've come to take me away!"
"Calm down. We're a rescue party. Look closely."
Luke's voice was calm and steady.
That calm tone seemed to have some effect.
The scattered look in the man's eyes slowly gathered again. He stared blankly at Luke, then at the soldiers around him.
Tears immediately streamed down his face.
"Thank goodness. Thank goodness, you finally came to save me!"
The man became incoherently excited. He wore plain cloth garments, old and torn in places, as though something had stained or corrupted them.
Seeing that he had recovered a bit of his reason, Luke continued, "What's your name?"
"Surt... My name is Surt."
The man repeated it twice. After the outburst, his voice sounded weak and drained.
"What happened on this ship? What do you mean they came back? Why did they take you? Why were you spared?"
Luke fired off four questions in a row.
Surt licked his dry lips. A look of fear flickered through his eyes, as if something awful had been dragged back up from memory.
He hugged his own arms and said, "The captain and the others... they came back. They were dead. They were already dead, but they still came back. They came to take me away."
Surt's explanation was a mess. Under normal circumstances, it would have been hard to understand.
But Luke was not a normal person.
He understood.
He asked again, "What did you run into two nights ago when you sailed out? Why did Kahn and the others die? Why did you survive?"
"The Black Mist..."
Surt opened his mouth and with difficulty forced out those two words.
The fear was still there, but he seemed more lucid now.
"Two nights ago, we wanted to bring in a bigger catch, so we sailed farther out than usual. Then... sometime around midnight, we ran into black clouds. No, not clouds. Black Mist. It was like some giant beast opening its mouth and coming for us."
As everyone listened, they all connected it to the thing they had come to investigate.
No one interrupted.
They listened in silence.
"We were terrified. That Black Mist blotted out the sky. So the captain ordered us to run. The boat moved as fast as it could, and then we found a small island. To avoid the Black Mist, all of us fled onto it. But that only cut off our retreat."
"After we got onto the island, we kept running deeper in. We ran and ran. Just when we thought the Black Mist had stopped following us, it came at us from the other side. We knew we couldn't outrun it. And then... a few men wearing armor just like yours appeared. They looked injured. They told us to go first, and then they held the Black Mist back for us..."
At this point, Surt raised his head and looked at the soldiers around him, then nodded firmly again. "Yes. Just like yours."
The soldiers exchanged glances.
They all realized that the armored people Surt was talking about were probably the Dauntless squad that had been sent to investigate earlier, along with several soldiers.
Luke asked, "You're saying they were still alive?"
"Alive." Surt nodded, grief entering his voice. "If it weren't for them, we never would have escaped..."
Luke kept his patience. "What happened after that?"
"After that, we kept running. A few people collapsed along the way from exhaustion and fell behind. But the Black Mist still caught up. After it swallowed me, I lost consciousness. When I woke up again, it was already noon. The captain and the others weren't breathing anymore.
"Me and Kess, Sis, Reed... maybe seven or eight of us survived. We were terrified when we saw the bodies everywhere, and we didn't dare go back to look for the soldiers. We ran back to the ship. Overnight, the boat became like this. Sis was the one steering. We wanted to get back to Dawnhold.
"But... but..."
At that point, Surt started trembling again, his teeth chattering. "When night fell, the Black Mist came again. This time we couldn't escape. The most terrifying thing was... in the mist, I saw the captain and the others. They were dead, but they came back here. They took Sis. They took Kess. They all died. I hid here the whole time. I didn't dare move."
After hearing all of it, Luke fell into thought.
Based on Surt's account, the previous arrival of the Black Mist should have been last night.
And the night before they secretly sailed out, there had also been Black Mist.
According to Surt, the Dauntless squad had still been alive on the island two nights ago.
They had helped hold the mist back for Captain Kahn and the others.
But in the end, Kahn and the others had still been consumed by it.
Surt, however, hadn't died. Several others hadn't either.
Which meant that being swallowed by the Black Mist did not necessarily mean death.
That gave many people fresh hope that the Dauntless squad might still be alive.
And on the way back, Surt's group encountered the Black Mist again, and this time it appeared carrying the souls of those who had already died.
If that was the pattern, then would the Black Mist appear again tonight as well?
Luke frowned and asked, "About what time did the Black Mist come?"
"I... I don't remember," Surt said fearfully. "But once it gets dark, it can come at any time."
It looked like Surt was a lucky man.
An entire ship had died, and he alone was still alive.
But looking at the black mist around him, and the purple light flickering within eyes that should have held only fear...
Luke knew Surt's survival did not seem to be a coincidence.
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