Everything hurt. That was good—dead people presumably didn't hurt. Unless this was hell, in which case the décor was disappointingly similar to regular forest.
"Don't move," Elanil's voice came from very close. "You'll tear the stitches."
He opened eyes he didn't remember closing. They were in a cave—when had they gotten to a cave?—lit by more of those bio-luminescent fruits arranged like the world's most organic chandelier. Elanil sat beside him, still in armor splattered with things he didn't want to identify.
"Did we win?"
"We survived. Sometimes that's the same thing." She helped him sit up, movements gentle despite her warrior's calluses. "You've been unconscious for three hours."
"The others?"
"Alive. Keiran took a bad hit to the leg, but Mayfell healed the worst of it. We lost most of our supplies fighting through the surge."
"I'm sorry. If I could fight better—"
"You killed a void spawn with almost no training." Her voice held something that might have been pride. "Most warriors train decades before attempting that."
"Lucky hit."
"Lucky to be alive." The pride shifted to anger. "What were you thinking, turning your back in combat?"
"I was thinking 'oh god, we're all going to die.' Not very tactical, I know."
She pulled something from her pack—his shirt, torn and bloodstained. "This saved your life. The reinforced panels stopped the claws from going deeper. Another inch and..."
"And you'd be free of guard duty?"
Her hand cracked across his face hard enough to see stars. "Don't. Don't joke about that. Not about dying. Not when I—" She stopped, jaw clenched.
"When you what?"
"When I just spent three hours wondering if human anatomy was different enough that our healing wouldn't work. When I had to watch Mayfell pour her power into keeping your strange human heart beating. When I..." Her voice cracked. "Just don't joke about dying."
The cave fell silent except for dripping water somewhere in the darkness. Ren's cheek stung, but something in his chest hurt worse. Not from injury—from the raw pain in her voice.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I joke when I'm scared. It's a bad habit."
"Everything about you is a bad habit." But her hand found his, squeezing carefully. "You're reckless and strange and you make references I don't understand. You can barely hold a sword and you name your fears like they're pets. You're the most frustrating person I've ever guarded."
"Wow. Tell me how you really feel."
"I'm trying to." She looked at him then, crimson eyes bright with unshed tears. "You're also brave in the stupidest ways. You make me laugh when the world is ending. You treat everyone like equals even though you're basically a figure from mythology. And when you smile—really smile, not the fake one you use as armor—it's like..."
"Like what?"
"Like maybe the world's worth saving after all."
Rating: 11/10 for emotional confession, 0/10 for my ability to respond coherently.
Before Ren could process that, Mayfell entered the cave looking haggard. Using healing magic had clearly cost her—she looked even younger, drained of the ancient vitality that usually radiated from her small frame.
"Ah, you're awake. Good. We have a problem."
"Bigger than reality collapsing?"
"More immediate. The Mist surges have cut us off from the direct route. We'll need to go through the Singing Canyons."
Elanil went rigid. "Princess, that's—"
"Suicide, yes. But so is staying here." Mayfell sank onto a rock, exhaustion evident. "The void spawn tracked us here. More will come with the next surge. At least in the Canyons, we'll only have to worry about the indigenous hazards."
"Indigenous hazards?" Ren asked. "That sounds ominous even by our standards."
"The Canyons were formed when reality had a disagreement with itself," Mayfell explained. "Sound becomes solid there. Thoughts echo. And sometimes the echoes develop opinions."
"Of course they do. Can't have normal canyons. Have to be philosophically aggressive canyons."
"There is another issue," Mayfell continued. "The facility we're seeking—if the coordinates are correct, it's at the heart of the Canyons. We'll need to traverse the entire system."
"How long?"
"If we're lucky? Eighteen hours. If the Canyons are in a mood? We might loop forever."
"And if we're unlucky?"
"Then we become part of the echo. Forever sharing our thoughts with whoever passes through next."
Ren considered this. On one hand, certain death from void spawn. On the other, potentially eternal existence as aggressive background noise. "My life has become a series of increasingly terrible choices."
"Welcome to adulthood," Elanil said dryly. "It doesn't improve."
Mayfell stood with visible effort. "Rest another hour. Then we move. The countdown doesn't pause for our comfort."
She left them alone again. The cave suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. Elanil hadn't let go of his hand.
"For what it's worth," Ren said carefully, "you make me feel like maybe I'm worth saving too. Even though I'm clearly not."
"You are, though." She shifted closer, cautious like approaching a spooked animal. "Worth saving, I mean. Worth..." She struggled with words. "I've lived two hundred thirty years. Fought in three wars. Lost more friends than I can count. I thought I understood duty and purpose and sacrifice."
"But?"
"But then this impossible human appears, reading languages that shouldn't exist, making jokes while reality dies. And suddenly duty feels different. Less like obligation and more like..."
"Like what?"
She leaned closer, close enough he could see gold flecks in her crimson eyes. "Like something worth choosing."
The moment stretched, fragile and perfect. Then Varos's voice echoed from the cave entrance: "Hate to interrupt, but we have incoming. Lots of incoming."
They scrambled to their feet, moment shattered. Through the cave mouth, purple light pulsed in waves. The next surge, early again.
"Grab what you can," Elanil ordered, all business again. "We run for the Canyons."
"Right. Running. My favorite." Ren tested his legs, pleased when they mostly cooperated. "Any tips for these philosophical canyons?"
"Don't think too loud." She helped him into his salvaged armor. "And whatever you do, don't argue with the echoes. They hold grudges."
"Great. Vengeful topology. What's next, mountains with anxiety?"
"Those are further north. We're avoiding them."
He couldn't tell if she was joking.
Rating: 4/10 for romantic timing, 10/10 for escalating danger, unknowable/10 for what comes next.