Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

well, there wasn't really any other way to approach in the mists.
    "Did you see something?" Spook asked quietly.
    Elend shook his head. "But I think I heard something."
    Spook nodded, then darted off into the mists again. Elend stood, uncertain whether he should continue on, or just wait. He didn't have to debate for very long. Spook returned a few moments later.
    "Nothing to worry about," Spook said. "Just a mistwraith."
    " What? " Elend asked.
    "Mistwraith," Spook said. "You know. Big goopy things? Related to kandra? Don't tell me you haven't read about them?"
    "I have," Elend said, nervously scanning the darkness. "But, I never thought I'd be out in the mists with one."
    Spook shrugged. "It's probably just following our scent, hoping that we'll leave some trash for it to eat. The things are harmless, mostly."
    "Mostly?" Elend asked.
    "You probably know more about them than I do. Look, I didn't come back here to chat about scavengers. There's light up ahead."
    "A village?" Elend asked, thinking back to when they'd come this way before.
    Spook shook his head. "Looks like watchfires."
    "An army?"
    "Maybe. I'm just thinking you should wait behind for a bit. It could be awkward if you wander into a scout post."
    "Agreed," Elend said.
    Spook nodded, then took off into the mists.
    And Elend was alone in the darkness again. He shivered, pulling his cloak close, and eyed the mists in the direction from which he'd heard the mistwraith. Yes, he'd read about them. He knew they were supposed to be harmless. But the thought of something crawling out there—its skeleton made from random sets of bones—watching him. . .
    Don't focus on that , Elend told himself.
    He turned his attention, instead, to the mists. Vin was right about one thing, at least. They were lingering longer and longer despite the sunrise. Some mornings, they remained a full hour after the sun came up. He could easily imagine the disaster that would befall the land should the mists persist all day. Crops would fail, animals would starve, and civilization would collapse.
    Could the Deepness really be something so simple? Elend's own impressions of the Deepness were seated in scholarly tradition. Some writers dismissed the entire thing as a legend—a rumor used by the obligators to enhance their god's aura of divinity. The majority accepted the historical definition of the Deepness—a dark monster that had been slain by the Lord Ruler.
    And yet, thinking of it as the mist made some sense. How could a single beast, no matter how dangerous, threaten an entire land? The mists, though. . .they could be destructive. Kill plants. Perhaps even. . .kill people, as Sazed had suggested?
    He eyed it shifting around him, playful, deceptive. Yes, he could see it as the Deepness. Its reputation—more frightening than a monster, more dangerous than an army—was one it would deserve. In fact, watching it as he was, he could see it trying to play tricks on his mind. For instance, the mist bank directly in front of him seemed to be forming shapes. Elend smiled as his mind picked out images in the mists. One almost looked like a person standing there, in front of him.
    The person stepped forward.
    Elend jumped, taking a slight step backward, his foot crunching on a bit of ice-crusted snow. Don't be silly , he told himself. Your mind is playing tricks on you. There's nothing—
    The shape in the mists took another step forward. It was indistinct, almost formless, and yet it seemed real. Random movements in the mists outlined its face, its body, its legs.
    "Lord Ruler!" Elend yelped, jumping back. The thing continued to regard him.
    I'm going mad , he thought, hands beginning to shake. The mist figure stopped a few feet in front of him and then raised its right arm and pointed.
    North. Away from Luthadel.
    Elend frowned, glancing in the direction the figure pointed. There was nothing but more empty mists. He turned back toward it, but it stood quietly, arm upraised.
    Vin spoke of this thing , he remembered, forcing down his fear. She tried to tell me about it. And I thought she was making things up! She was right—just as she'd been right about the mists staying longer in the day, and the possibility of the mists being the Deepness. He was beginning to wonder which of them was the scholar.
    The mist figure continued to point.
    "What?" Elend asked, his own voice sounding haunting in the silent air.
    It stepped forward, arm still raised. Elend put a useless hand to his sword,