Elias blinked. He was standing on the edge of the cliff in Oakhaven. The sun had fully risen, dissolving the Veil into nothing but morning dew. His boots were damp, and his lungs felt clearer than they had in years.
He headed back to the village, no longer walking away from the clouds, but waiting for the next time they decided to descend. A Walk In The Clouds
He walked for what felt like hours, or perhaps seconds, through a gallery of his own life. He saw the first archway he ever built, the stones shimmering in the mist. He saw the face of his wife as a young girl, her laughter rendered in a flurry of ice crystals. Elias blinked
His boot didn't find the abyss. Instead, it met a surface that felt like packed wool and cold silk. It gave slightly under his weight, then held. He took another step, then another, walking straight out into the white nothingness. His boots were damp, and his lungs felt
As he moved further from the cliff, the world grew impossibly quiet. The sound of his own heartbeat became a rhythmic drum. Then, the clouds began to change. They didn't just swirl; they sculpted.
He realized Clara was right. The clouds were a reservoir of the lost.