The darkness is thick.
It wraps around me like a blanket—heavy, suffocating, as though the air itself has turned solid. I can't move. I can't breathe. My limbs feel numb, distant. Every attempt to reach out, to find something, results in nothing but empty space.
I strain to hear something—anything—but all I get is silence. The kind that settles in your bones, the kind that makes you feel small, trapped.
- ???: "You're doing well."
The voice is soft, but clear. It cuts through the stillness like a thread of light.
At first, I think I imagined it. Maybe it's my mind playing tricks on me. But the words don't fade. They hang in the air, like they're meant for me. Something inside me stirs, as if I've heard this voice before.
- ???: "Keep pushing."
It's her.
I open my eyes.
A strange, unfamiliar ceiling looms above me. I blink, confusion settling in my chest. The surface is dark, rough, cracked—like stone or some kind of ancient material, something I can't quite place.
"Where am I?"
The words escape my lips before I even realize I'm speaking. I push myself up slightly, but my body protests—aching, stiff, as if it's been a long time since I've moved.
I didn't die… right?
I open my status screen, searching for the answer.
——————————————————————
STATUS SCREEN
Name: Ayden
Level: 1
XP: 0
Attribute Points: 0
[ATTRIBUTES]:
Strength: 5
Speed: 5
Perception: 6
Intelligence: 6
Vigor: 6
[SKILLS]:
Phantom's Reset: Lvl 0 –> Death will never rule you.
Mental Fortitude: Lvl 1 –> The user has the strength to stand on their feet under extreme stress. Increased resistance to mind-affecting and sleep-based effects. Improved focus and clarity under duress.
——————————————————————
No change.
I guess not.
I get up slowly, rubbing the stiffness from my neck, and glance around.
The room is small—much smaller than the open cavern from before. But it's not cramped. If anything… it's cozy? That's the first word that comes to mind, and it feels wrong to think it in a place like this.
Above my head, a soft, warm light glows from the ceiling. It pulses gently, like a slow heartbeat. I can't tell what's producing it, but it bathes the room in a golden hue that makes the shadows seem less threatening.
The walls are the same as before—damp, uneven, carved by time. That rough, rocky texture is something I've grown used to by now. Familiar. But here, the air feels lighter, almost breathable. No dust. No blood. No monster.
Just… stillness.
"Where is everyone?"
My voice echoes softly against the stone, swallowed almost immediately by the stillness. No response. No footsteps. No breathing. No sign that anyone else made it out.
A knot twists in my stomach.
I take a few steps toward the far end of the room. There's an opening — a jagged arch in the stone wall, just wide enough to walk through. The edges are rough, uneven, like it wasn't carved intentionally, but forced open over time.
As I approach, the light above me dims. Fades. It doesn't flicker or die — it just… lets go.
The next room is darker. Not pitch-black, but dim and flickering. The source is different this time.
A soft, orange glow dances along the stone walls ahead — the unmistakable light of fire.
I step through the archway, and the temperature shifts slightly. Warmer. Drier. The room is larger than the one before, and in its center, a fire burns — calm and contained. Someone built it. There are small rocks stacked around it, forming a crude pit.
I step closer, my eyes adjusting to the firelight.
Then I see it — a shape, just beyond the fire.
A shadow, barely distinguishable from the wall behind it. It doesn't move, but it's there. Solid. Human-shaped. Someone sitting with their back turned toward me, shoulders slightly slumped, facing the flames.
My breath catches.
Smoke drifts lazily upward, curling toward the ceiling, and with it comes the scent of something cooking.
I freeze.
The smell is faint, but warm and unmistakable — savory, almost comforting. My stomach tightens. I hadn't even noticed how hungry I was until now.
It smells like… chicken? No. Not quite. Something wilder. Richer. I can't place it.
The makeshift skewer turns slowly over the fire.
Whoever this is… they haven't moved.
But they know I'm here.
- Kai: "You're finally awake. You took your time."
I flinch at the voice — deep, steady, unmistakably familiar.
"Kai?"
- Kai: "Who else would it be?"
My chest loosens.
The tension from earlier starts to fade. My shoulders drop. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
It really is him.
I take a step forward, and his form comes into view — clearer now in the flickering firelight.
He's hunched slightly, turning the makeshift skewer with a slow, deliberate rhythm, never once glancing in my direction.
His messy brown hair is streaked with red colouring and tangled in places, like he'd been dragged through the rubble and didn't bother fixing it. That old red shirt — the one he always wears — hangs loose around his frame, the design on the front so faded it's barely more than a smudge now.
"How long was I out for?"
- Kai: "About a few hours. Can't really tell time for shit in here though."
"Right… So what happened?"
He finally turns to face me.
- Kai: "Before that, come have a taste of this."
I hesitate, but kneel beside him.
The smell is stronger now — smoky, earthy, and… surprisingly good.
I take a bite.
"It's good! What is it though?"
- Kai: "Rabbit. I think. Christy hunted it and asked me to cook it.
I pause, eyeing the skewer.
"You think it's a rabbit?"
- Kai: "Yup! Good though, right?"
"Uh huh…"
- Kai: "Anyway — back to what happened. After you dodged that thing's attack, the cave collapsed. Whole ceiling came down on top of you. Took us forever to dig you out."
"Shit. How am I even alive?"
- Kai: "Isabella. She used all her magic to heal you. Damn near passed out doing it, but she figured it out just in time."
"Where is she now?"
- Kai: "In there."
He nods toward one of the side chambers.
- Kai: "She and Lena are both asleep."
"What about Blair and Christy?"
- Kai: "They went exploring. Not the safest option, but they are great at hunting."
"I didn't know you could cook."
- Kai: "Well yeah. Gotta keep my brothers fed somehow."
His smile falters for a brief second, just enough for me to catch it before he masks it with a chuckle.
"You're the eldest?"
He shrugs.
- Kai: "Yeah…"
His voice lowers, nearly swallowed by the crackle of the flames.
- Kai: "Someone's gotta do it."
He looks up briefly, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, before turning back to the fire. The warmth of the flames doesn't reach his eyes.
- Christy: "We're back."
Her voice hits me like a chill. My shoulders stiffen before I can stop them.
- Kai: "Oh, hey! I'm just about done cooking the food. There's enough for each of us."
I keep my gaze on the fire. The warmth that comforted me seconds ago now feels distant.
- Christy: "Perfect. How are you feeling Ayden?"
I don't answer right away. My throat tightens. I pretend to poke at the skewer again, buying time.
"…Better," I mutter, eyes still low. "Thanks."
I feel her gaze on me—waiting, searching—but I don't look up. My fingers tense around the stick, knuckles whitening. The fire crackles, loud in the silence that follows.
- Christy: "Okay. I'm glad you're alright."
Her voice is soft—gentler than I expected. But it doesn't settle anything in me.
- Kai: "Ayden, mind grabbing Isabella and Lena? Food's ready."
"Yeah. Sure."
I stand a little too quickly and brush imaginary dust off my pants, anything to give my hands something to do. Without another word, I turn toward the side passage and walk off.
Each step echoes faintly down the corridor, my boots pressing into damp stone. The warmth of the fire fades behind me, but that chill from earlier lingers under my skin.
"I'm glad you're alright."
Why?
That question loops in my head, unwelcome and sharp.
Why would she say that? She killed me. Not in this timeline. Not here. But the memory still burns in my head like it happened minutes ago.
She looked me in the eye. She chose it.
And now… she's glad I'm okay?
I keep my eyes down as I walk. The stone corridor twists slightly, curving into shadow.
Maybe she meant it.
Maybe she didn't.
But I can't shake the feeling that whatever she said—whatever tone she used—
It wasn't for me.
The corridor curves inward, narrowing slightly before opening into a small chamber.
The air here is cooler — still, quiet, like the room itself is holding its breath. Faint light seeps in through a thin crack in the ceiling, just enough to cast soft, silver shadows across the floor.
Two makeshift beds lie against the far wall, fashioned from bundles of worn fabric and stitched-together scraps of what looks like torn cloaks or old camping gear. Someone had layered them with care, folding spare cloth beneath them to soften the stone. It's rough… but not thoughtless.
They're both here.
Lena is curled tightly beneath a tattered brown sheet, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other resting under the blanket. She's snoring, and her expression is calm — completely at ease. It's almost like she's sleeping back at home, away from all this.
Isabella lies beside her, facing the wall. Her long hair is draped over her shoulder in gentle waves, catching the faint light like strands of gold. Her breathing is steady, soft. She looks… exhausted.
That must've been my fault. She pushed herself for me. Nearly drained herself. But why? She barely knows me. I didn't ask for that. Didn't deserve it. So why… does it still feel like I owe her something?
I take a step closer, but slow down almost immediately.
Something about the way they're resting — the silence (occasionally broken by Lena's light snores) — feels sacred. Like if I speak too loud, I'll ruin something.
I linger there a moment longer, hands half-raised, unsure whether to wake them or not.
Kai said the food was ready. That I should get them.
But right now, looking at them like this…
They seem like they need the rest more than they need the food.
I kneel beside Isabella's bed and lean in slightly.
"Isabella," I whisper. "Hey… food's ready."
No response.
I reach out, trying to place my hand on her shoulder to give her the slightest shake.
Before I can make contact, her hand moves.
She grabs mine.
Still asleep… but she holds on. Lightly. Like she doesn't want me to go.
And for a second, I freeze.
The warmth of her palm against mine—too familiar.
Too much like—
Nia.
Same touch. Same reach.
I see it now, clear as day—the last time she grabbed my hand like that. Her hand was smaller, of course. Cold from the wind. We were sitting on the steps behind the house, her knees pulled up to her chest, sleeves of her pajamas too long for her arms.
- Nia: "You have to come back."
Her voice had cracked when she said it—not from fear, but from trying too hard to sound brave. Like she was holding back tears just for me.
- Nia: "Promise?"
I held out my pinky — the dumb way we always used to seal our deals.
"I swear."
She wrapped her arms around me. Tight. Fierce. Like letting go might mean losing me forever.
- Nia: "I'll wait."
She whispered into my chest.
- Nia: "But if you don't come back… I'll find you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"You shouldn't have to. You should have a normal life. Not chasing after someone like me."
- Nia: "You're not someone. You're my brother."
"…Nia."
The name slips out before I can stop it — soft, shaky. Like a secret I hadn't meant to share with the world.
And then—
- Isabella: "Huh…?"
Her eyes flutter open.
I freeze, still kneeling beside her, still half-lost in that memory.
She blinks a few times, disoriented, her gaze unfocused in the low light. Then her eyes find mine.
And I realize—my hand is still in hers.
I pull back immediately. Too fast. Like her touch burned.
- Isabella: "…Ayden?"
Her voice is groggy, barely above a whisper.
I retreat a step.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to… wake you like that."
She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Her hair falls over her face in messy waves.
- Isabella: "What… time is it?"
"No idea. But… the food's ready. Kai sent me."
She nods faintly, still shaking off the sleep, but I can tell she's watching me now. Studying me.
Like she heard it.
Like she knows I didn't say her name.
But she doesn't ask.
She just gives a tired smile — and somehow, that makes it worse.
I offer Isabella a hand. She hesitates for a beat before taking it, her fingers curling loosely around mine as I help her to her feet.
She still looks half-asleep, but the moment she stands, her posture shifts — straighter, steadier. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and gives me a small, grateful nod.
Behind us, Lena stirs.
- Lena: "Mmm… food?"
Her voice is thick with sleep, but the word snaps her fully awake. She sits up like a cat catching the scent of meat.
- Lena: "Wow! It smells amazing."
I glance at her, trying not to laugh. Her hair's a mess, and she's still wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, but the excitement in her voice is completely genuine.
Isabella stretches once, wincing slightly. She must still be feeling the drain of that spell.
"You sure you're okay?"
I ask, quieter this time.
She nods again, firmer.
- Isabella: "I'll be fine. Let's go."
We leave the room together. Lena scrambles after us, dragging the blanket with her like a cape, yawning the whole way.
The corridor is quiet except for our footsteps. The flicker of firelight ahead grows stronger as we near the main chamber.
As we step through the arch, the firelight greets us—warm and golden, painting shadows across the stone walls. The others are already gathered around it.
Christy stands just to the side, arms crossed, eyes darting toward me for the briefest second before moving on.
Blair's sitting on a smooth boulder, legs crossed, chewing calmly with a forked stick in her hand. She raises a brow when she sees us.
- Blair: "You're late."
I chuckle lightly, while scratching the back of my neck.
"Sorry. My bad."
Lena rushes to the fire and plops down, snatching a skewer without hesitation.
- Lena: "Mmmph. Worth it."
- Blair: "I'm surprised you know how to cook. What with you being a brute and all."
- Kai: "Hey! I'm not that much of a barbarian."
He glances over at me and nods toward an open spot near the fire. I sit down quietly, Isabella settling beside me.
Christy passes us a few skewers. She doesn't say anything this time, but her fingers brush mine as she hands the food over — and something in me flinches.
Not visibly. Not enough for anyone to notice.
I take the food without looking up, and force a nod. My hand closes around the skewer and I begin to eat.
No one talks about what happened. No one mentions the collapse. Or Isabella nearly dying. Or me.
Aside from Lena and Kai's constant bickering, it's just the fire. The food. The warmth.
A break we probably won't be getting often.
After we've eaten, everyone starts getting ready to leave.
Supposedly, shortly after I passed out, the group had found this place, and it was full of gear. Weapons. The beds. The tools to make a fire.
We got lucky. Who even left this here in the first place?
Christy steps over to me, silent. Her boots crunch softly on the stone. She reaches into her bag, which is slung over her shoulder, and pulls two things out.
First, a brown belt made of leather, with a small pouch and a holster attached to it.
And second, a small dagger.
Worn leather grip. Iron blade. Roughly sharpened. No ornament, no shine. Just a tool.
She holds them out.
- Christy: "You'll need something to defend yourself. Here."
"I—uh, I don't think I need—"
- Christy: "Just take it. You're the only one without a weapon."
I reach out — slower than I mean to.
I've never held a weapon before.
Her hand brushes mine as I take the hilt. Cold. Steady. The same hand that killed me once.
I try not to show it, but something in me recoils.
She doesn't notice. Or maybe she does, and doesn't care.
As I wear the belt, I fasten the dagger in the holster stuck to my right hip. It's a bit heavy, and slightly uncomfortable, but I can manage.
In fact, I feel better having a weapon. It puts my mind at ease.
I glance around. Everyone else is packing up — checking their bags, adjusting straps, testing blades. No one's saying much. The fire's burned low now, just embers and the occasional crack of charcoal. Whatever peace we had is gone.
We're moving again.
And if the last few hours taught me anything…
I need to be ready to die again.
"Hey. Isabella."
She turns to me, brows raised gently.
- Isabella: "Um. Is something wrong?"
I shake my head, eyes low.
"No, it's nothing. Just… Thanks for saving me. I heard what you did. I'm sorry I made you push so hard."
Her gaze softens. She brushes a bit of hair behind her ear, then shakes her head.
- Isabella: "It's fine, Ayden. As long as you're alright."
She pauses, like she wants to say more, but doesn't.
- Isabella: "You would've done the same."
I don't know about that.
Behind us, someone clears their throat.
- Christy: "Is everyone ready to get going?"
She's standing near the tunnel entrance, arms crossed, weight on one leg like she's already halfway out the door. Her expression's unreadable. Not impatient. Not kind. Just… neutral.
Kai shoulders his pack and stretches with a loud groan.
- Kai: "Yup. Let's go before Lena tries to pack the fire."
- Lena: "It's still warm! That's valuable heat!"
- Blair: "How would that even work?"
We all chuckle, but it fades fast.
The bags are strapped. The fire's embers left to die. And whatever quiet peace we had in here… it doesn't follow us out.
- Christy: "Alright. Let's go!"