If there were ever anything that Marus would have found regret in doing before he had entered the Mists, it would be overshadowed by his newest venture into these odd clouds of doom. At first, there was nothing...then there was everything. It was like a flood of sound, smells, visions, and the total absence of feeling. It seemed strange to Marus that there would be no real feeling to accompany all of the sensations that had been aroused by his entering the Mists.

The sounds were odd. Like talking through a waterfall, but without the sound of the water actually falling. There was a bit of an echo but other sounds were found within each echo. Marus watched as iamges of people, beasts, and things of which he could never recognize flowed before him. Trees were growing and then dying within seconds. Birds leaving, then returning. People building things, destroying things, and then building again. Marus was watching history, with sounds and smells included. He saw his village become what it was. Then there came the Mists, followed by absolute distruction.

Marus tried to move, he tried to change what he was seeing. He was met with such pain that he cried out in agony, but what came out of his mouth was a drowned out, rusty version of his voice. Then Marus saw the Mists receding and decaying bodies surrounded him. There was an unpleasant stench to it all. Then the images reversed and Marus saw his village going from ruin back to normal.

Although a deep pain slowed him, Marus attempted to claw his way through the mist. Pure white light blinded his vision and his legs started to go numb. Marus kept pulling himself in any direction that he could, although the Mists seemed to hold no direction, and no destination. Marus saw the Mists completely recede from him, and he followed.

The Mists flew over mountains and yet Marus remained right behind. Then the Mists flew into some cave and Marus continued to fly. He seemed to be slowing, but he saw that he was heading towards water and fast. There was no stopping and he braced for the impact. The water felt like the earth, solid and heavy, as the air was knocked from his lungs. Marus was then knocked unconscious, but his hand remained in a deathgrip of the sword.