Chapter 11

My head pounded like a war drum, the world spinning around me as I forced my eyes open. My vision swam, blurry shapes and indistinct colors melding together before slowly sharpening.

The pain was immediate—a sharp, throbbing ache in my skull—and I couldn’t feel my left arm. My body felt heavy, sluggish, as if weighted down by invisible chains.

Groaning, I shifted and realized where I was: nestled precariously in the cradling embrace of a tree’s branches.

I blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. The fall. The monster. The lightning. I looked down, the ground below coming into focus. There it was—the creature’s mangled body sprawled beneath the tree, blood pooling beneath its broken form. My shield. My savior.

Somehow, I was alive, though by what miracle, I didn’t know.

Instinctively, I reached for my pockets. Relief flooded through me as my fingers brushed against the hard, smooth surfaces of the two red spheres. Still there. Still mine. That relief was short-lived, however. A wave of nausea rolled through me, and I felt the pull of unconsciousness like a tide trying to drag me under.

I shook my head violently, biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste grounded me, but only for a moment.

Growls. Snarls. The unmistakable pounding of heavy footsteps reverberated in the air. My head snapped up, panic overriding pain. They were coming. I couldn’t see them yet, but they were fast approaching.

My reprieve was nothing but temporary..

Without hesitation, I broke free from the branches. The fall was short but jarring, as I landed hard on top of the scaly monster’s already battered corpse. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through my body, but at least the body cushioned me again. Sticky warmth seeped into my clothes, it’s mangy blood coating me in a grotesque film.

I didn’t care. There wasn’t time to care.

I struggled to my feet, swaying as dizziness clawed at me. That’s when I saw it—my left arm, limp and useless, hanging at my side. It was twisted unnaturally, the exposed bones jutting in ways they shouldn’t. The sight made my stomach churn, but there was no time to dwell on it.

The growls around me grew louder, accompanied by the crashing of underbrush. My heart hammered against my ribs, the adrenaline cutting through the fog in my mind. Survival was all that mattered.

Clutching my side with my good hand, I hobbled forward, every step a battle against the pain. I shoved my way into the dense undergrowth of the forest, the foliage grabbing at my clothes like desperate hands. Each step was agony, each breath a struggle, but I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop.

The thundering footsteps were right behind me now, so close I swore I could feel their vibrations in the ground. My instincts screamed at me to move faster, to push harder, to survive no matter what. I didn’t care anymore as I forced myself to run despite the injuries. My legs burned, my chest heaved, and the mangled arm hanging at my side swung uselessly with each staggering motion.

I didn’t look back. Looking back meant slowing down, and slowing down meant death. Forward was the only option, into the shadows of the forest, where maybe—just maybe—I could lose them.

My breaths were ragged, shallow gasps clawed from my battered lungs, each one a knife slicing through my chest. Maybe it was internal injuries, maybe not. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at this point.

The world around me blurred, my vision narrowing as the crimson streak of blood trickling down my forehead painted everything in shades of red. My eyes stung, the warm liquid clinging to my lashes, but I didn’t stop to wipe it away. I couldn’t afford to. The snarls behind me, those guttural, hungry sounds, were all the motivation I needed.

I was teetering on a mere thread, my body on the verge of total collapse.

The forest was a dizzying swirl of greens, browns, and reds, my surroundings barely registering as I stumbled forward. Each step felt like my last, and deep down, I knew I couldn’t keep this up. My end was close—I could feel it in the way my legs trembled, in the dimming fire burning through my chest, this was it.

Then, cutting through the haze, I heard it.

“Here! Come ’ere!”

The voice was distant, muffled by the pounding of my pulse and the growls that seemed to press against my back. I blinked, squinting into the distance, but all I saw was a distorted mess of shapes and shadows. For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating, that my mind had finally cracked under the weight of exhaustion and fear.

“Over here, quickly!”

This time it was clearer, sharper, like a rope tossed to a drowning man. Desperation clawed at my chest as I veered toward the sound, my legs screaming in protest with every uneven step. The snarls behind me grew louder, the heat of their breath almost tangible.

I didn’t have a choice.

Pushing through a final line of trees, I stumbled into a small clearing. There, amidst the dirt and roots, was what looked like a mound of earth—but it was wrong. It was slightly ajar, like a trapdoor left half-open. Peering through the gap was a shadowed head, it’s face obscured but their voice urgent.

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“Make it fast!”

Every instinct screamed at me not to trust this, to turn and fight instead of throwing myself into an unknown hole. But instincts don’t matter when death is clawing at your heels. My legs moved on their own, driving me forward with a burst of adrenaline that I didn’t know I had left.

The figure fully opened the trapdoor just as I reached it, and without hesitation, I dove headfirst into the hole. The impact jarred my entire body as I crashed onto the muddy surface below, a fresh wave of pain rippling through me. My left arm screamed in protest, but I barely had time to process it before the shadowy figure above slammed the trapdoor firmly shut.

Darkness enveloped the space, thick and oppressive. For a moment, the only sound was my ragged breathing, loud and uneven in the silence. I pressed a hand to my ribs, wincing at the sharp pain radiating from the touch, suppressing the noise.

Then the rumbling started.

A low, thunderous sound reverberated above, like the march of an endless horde. The ground trembled beneath me, dust falling from the ceiling of the cramped space. My heart pounded as I imagined the swarm overhead, their claws digging into the dirt, their snarls echoing in my mind.

I shut my eyes, willing the noise to pass, praying, but fear rooted itself deep in my chest. I had been moments away from certain death—closer than ever before. I didn’t know if this hole was salvation or just another trap, but for now, it was my only lifeline.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity.

Sweat trickled down my face, mingling with the blood that had already blurred my vision. I clenched my teeth, every muscle in my body taut as I silently begged—prayed—to whatever force might be listening.

Just let them pass. Let them keep moving. Let this trapdoor stay shut.

The rumbling overhead began to die down, fading into something softer, less threatening. But I knew better than to trust this fleeting silence. My breathing slowed, forced into shallow whispers of air that barely moved my chest. The figure who had opened the trapdoor remained still and quiet, as if they had vanished entirely. I mirrored the silence, every instinct warning me that any noise could be my undoing.

The silence stretched on, but just as I thought the danger had passed, faint footsteps returned. The sound was softer now, like a cautious predator doubling back. My pulse spiked, and I pressed myself against the cold, muddy ground, willing my body to disappear. My fingers clenched, nails digging into the earth as I forced myself to stay utterly still.

The seconds dragged on, every tiny sound amplifying my paranoia. It wasn’t as loud as before, but that only made it worse. Were they searching? Circling? Could they smell me? The tension twisted my gut into knots, and I realized my breaths were coming out shaky and uneven. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood, forcing myself to control the noise.

Then, finally, true silence.

I waited, counting the seconds in my head. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Still nothing. My aching chest heaved slightly as I allowed myself a shallow, tentative sigh of relief. The sweat on my skin cooled, sending shivers through my battered body.

My eyes darted toward the figure who had pulled me into this hole. In the faint, residual light that seeped through the cracks, I could just barely make out their outline. They hadn’t moved an inch since closing the trapdoor. Not a word, not a shift, not even a hint of breath that I could detect.

My relief turned to unease.

Shifting slightly, I tried to adjust my position. My ribs ached with every motion, and my left arm was still useless, hanging limply at my side like dead weight. As I moved, my knee brushed against something solid—something that wasn’t the ground. I froze, my senses sharpening despite the haze of exhaustion clouding my mind.

Slowly, carefully, I reached out, my fingers brushing against the object. It was firm, unyielding, and strangely smooth in some places. My heart skipped a beat as I realized it wasn’t just an object. It was a leg.

A person.

I recoiled slightly, my breath catching in my throat. The leg didn’t move. No flinch, no sign of life. I hesitated, my hand hovering over it as I tried to make sense of this. Was someone else here? Or…was this a corpse?

“Hello,” I whispered, my voice shaky and hoarse.

No response.

Instead, the figure who had saved me broke their silence, issuing a sharp, hushed, “Shh!”

I froze again, my lips clamping shut. My heart thudded painfully against my chest as I glanced back toward the figure. They were still as a shadow, unmoving, unreadable. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

I turned my attention back to the leg beside me. Carefully, cautiously, I felt along its length, searching for any sign of warmth, movement, life. But there was nothing. No twitch, no tremble—just unresponsive, unmoving flesh.

Is it really a dead person?

The realization sent a chill through me. My fingers instinctively brushed against my pocket, seeking the small, narrow object I had stashed earlier. The crossbow bolt. My only weapon. My only chance, if this situation turned out to be something far worse than I’d imagined.

My hand closed around the bolt, gripping it tightly but keeping it hidden. My gaze flickered back to the figure. Their silhouette remained motionless, but I couldn’t shake the growing unease that coiled in my chest.

The silence dragged on, stretching far beyond what felt comfortable. My breaths, though quiet, felt deafening in the suffocating darkness. The figure hadn’t moved since shushing me earlier, as if time itself held no weight for him. I sat there, the bolt clenched tightly in my hand, my body aching and nerves fraying with each second that ticked by.

Just as I started to consider speaking, I heard a creak. A faint sound, as if wood groaned under strain. My head tilted toward it instinctively. The figure was descending—likely on some kind of unseen ladder. The sound was deliberate, careful. The voice that followed, barely above a whisper, was deep, unsettlingly calm and undoubtedly male.

“They should have left by now,” he said, his words slow and deliberate.

The way he spoke made my skin crawl—not from menace, but because something about his pronunciation was…off. The cadence was strange, like someone who hadn’t spoken aloud in years or learned the language from an incomplete guide. It was uncanny enough to put me further on edge.

As he descended further, his movements brought him closer to me. He stopped a few feet away, just outside of my reach. I still couldn’t make out his face, his features obscured entirely by the lack of light.

“We must stay quiet,” he added, almost as if repeating the mantra for himself rather than for me.

I swallowed, debating whether to speak or not. My voice felt stuck in my throat, but curiosity and unease eventually pushed me forward.

“Who…who are you?” I asked, trying to keep my tone steady despite the tremble creeping in.

He didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched again, but this time, I heard the faintest sound of his breathing—calm, measured. Finally, he answered.

“I don’t know my real name,” he admitted, his tone neutral, almost detached.

“But…others call me Nidus.”

I blinked, confused. ‘Others’? I echoed internally.

He didn’t elaborate. The name itself sounded strange, like it carried some hidden weight. My grip tightened on the bolt as my thoughts wandered. Who were these “others”? Was he part of a group? Was this space part of their lair?

My eyes flicked instinctively to the body beside me. I couldn’t see it, but the sensation of its unmoving presence was heavy in the cramped space. I wet my lips, hesitating, before finally asking.

“Who’s…who’s this? The body beside me. Is it alive?”

Nidus shifted slightly, his silhouette tilting forward as if observing me—or perhaps the body. “I don’t know her name,” he said finally. “Found her earlier. Kobolds were…hacking at her. I pulled her out before they could finish.”

His plain words made my stomach turn. Hacking at her? My fingers twitched against the bolt as I glanced again toward the lifeless-feeling leg beside me.

“And she’s alive?” I pressed, my voice wavering.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his tone unchanging. “She hasn’t moved since I dragged her here.”

The information hit me in pieces, fragmented but enough to paint a grim picture. A girl. Alive—or was. Likely unconscious. And the kobolds—the scaly creatures that had been chasing me—had been trying to kill her.

“Kobolds,” I murmured, testing the word.

“Yup,” he confirmed simply, though the way he pronounced it added a strange weight.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. The bolt felt heavier in my hand now, though I didn’t loosen my grip. My mind raced as I pieced things together. A girl. Kobolds. The leg beside me. The fight near the golem.

Then it hit me.

I thought back to earlier, before everything had gone to hell. The figures I’d been stalking before the golem erupted into chaos. There’d been two—a boy and a girl. Was this girl one of them? If so, what happened to the boy?

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to steady. “Did you…did you see anyone else?” I asked, glancing back toward Nidus. “Another person? A boy?”

His response came without hesitation. “Nope.”

The simple word settled like a stone in my chest. The boy wasn’t here. Either he hadn’t been taken…or he hadn’t survived.

Perhaps he really had been vaporised by that blast…

I stared into the darkness, my thoughts spiraling. Thinking back to the hooded kobold holding the strange talisman, I also wondered if I would’ve been reduced to mere ash had I been a step too late; perhaps it was due to pure luck that I managed to survive all of that.

Nonetheless, this so called ‘Nidus’—this strange, unsettling figure—was another mystery entirely.

What the hell is his deal?

I tightened my grip on the bolt, my knuckles brushing the fabric of my pocket where the orbs rested. I’d trust no one here—not the half-dead girl, and certainly not him.

I looked in front and asked the sole question plaguing my mind,

“Why did you help me?”.