I drag myself out of the shallow, ceremonial mound, collapsing onto the cold, wet ground of the cave. I lie there, chest heaving, breaths sucking up air that isn't laden with the taste of my own decay, staring at the rough stone ceiling. I am out.
I am… back.
For a long moment, I just exist. The cold of the stone seeps into my bare back, a shocking, wonderful sensation. I am alive again. I did it. I tricked Garm. I made it out of the underworld.
I'm back.
Slowly, painfully, I push myself to my feet. My legs are unsteady, muscles atrophied and screaming in protest. I stagger my way through the darkness of the caverns, leaning heavily against the rock as I follow the airflow to an exit. I don't stop walking until I see the step out into the grey evening light.
The first thing I notice is how cold it is.
