Walking along the path, James had to be honest—this reminded him of the times he spent with his dad, back when he was Frank, busting open rocks excitedly to see what was inside. Geodes, interesting striations, or sometimes just the dull gray disappointment of solid stone. There was a sense of wonder in the unknown, a curiosity that made the long hours worth it. This adventuring thing? It had that same feeling. Something about it spoke to him—perhaps the thrill of discovery, the satisfaction of getting stronger, or the camaraderie. He could see himself enjoying it in many ways. Sure, the almost dying part was a bit of a drawback, but having died twice now, James wasn't necessarily afraid of it. Death was just another part of the journey, a cycle he was learning to understand better each time.
He looked over at Joey, who was moving slowly and cautiously—completely different from his usual carefree self. Joey’s eyes constantly flicked from side to side, scanning for threats, his body tense and ready for anything. James watched his friend for a while, his mind drifting to the past, and remembered what Joey was really like beneath the surface. Joey could be hardheaded, a troublemaker, often impulsive and seemingly selfish, but James knew better. Well, maybe Joey was all those things, but James also knew there was a lot more to his friend. He remembered a side of Joey that people often overlooked, the side that made Joey the person James trusted to have his back.
James' memory wandered back to when Joey was seven. They had snuck out one night to go to the village hall, where a party was in full swing. James hadn’t met up with Joey yet, but he knew they were both making their way there. It had been raining that night—one of those cold, steady rains that soaked through everything, making the cobbled streets glisten and the air heavy with the smell of wet earth. A caravan had rolled into the village earlier in the day, and the travelers had parked their carriages in the middle of the street, which wasn't a problem for a small town. It was convenient, after all for everyone. Most people were at the hall or asleep in their homes. James used the rain to sneak along the edges of the houses, trying to avoid being seen. He imagined Joey was doing the same, somewhere on the other side of the village.
As James moved between two carriages, something caught his eye—a small figure, a child about three or four years old, standing alone in the rain, holding a tattered blanket. The kid looked lost, his eyes wide with fear, his tiny body shivering in the cold. James could see that this boy was from the caravan, probably an orphan. The word "orphan" didn't mean much to James then, but now, after living both worlds, he understood. The boy had no one. he over heard His parents talking about how the boy's parents had been killed by bandits that had attacked the caravan. Life here was harsh, lived by the creed of "might makes right." People were too busy trying to survive to look after someone else’s kid, especially an orphaned stranger.
James remembered staring at the boy, feeling sad but powerless. He was only a few years older himself, and he didn’t know what to do. The rain was relentless, and a crack of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a low rumble of thunder that seemed to shake the air around them. The little boy flinched, trembling even harder. Just then, Joey appeared, coming around the corner. He spotted the kid immediately, and without hesitation, he walked up to him, kneeling down to give the child a hug. James couldn’t hear what Joey said, but he saw Joey wipe the tears from the little boy’s face before taking his hand. James watched, half-hidden behind one of the carriages, as Joey led the boy through the mud, taking him to his parents’ home.
After Joey had dropped the boy off, he headed back out, trudging through the mud to their rendezvous point at the village hall. James arrived just a few seconds before him. He remembered the look of determination on Joey's face when he finally came around the corner, his clothes soaked and his shoes caked in mud. There was something about the way Joey held himself, despite the soaked clothes and the biting cold—an inner strength that James admired.
"What took you so long?" James asked, wondering what excuse Joey would come up with.
Joey shrugged, his expression a mix of nonchalance and irritation. "My ma took too long to blow out the candle. You know how she is, always reading this or that. Besides, what's it to ya?" He gestured for James to follow, urging him to sneak into the hall with him.
"Just wondering, is all," James said, and they both ducked under one of the open windows, sliding into the bustling warmth of the party. The sounds of laughter, music, and clinking cups filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold darkness outside.
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James remembered seeing Joey’s mom the next day, walking through the market with the little boy in tow. The boy was wearing clean, newish clothes—nothing fancy, but warm and comfortable. That was the last time James saw the kid. Joey had never brought up what he did that night, and James had never asked. It was just how Joey was—hardheaded, stubborn, a troublemaker, and often rude and uncouth, but with a tender heart inside. That was how James saw his friend. A good friend, the kind that was rare on Earth and even rarer here, whatever this planet was called. He realized, in that moment, just how much Joey's loyalty meant to him.
Coming out of his reverie, James realized he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. He glanced at the stream, which had grown louder as they walked. The water churned, white foam forming as it rushed over rocks and crags. A wall of jagged stone rose beside them, craggy and uneven, like the teeth of some great beast. They kept watch for any sign of an ambush, their eyes darting between the rocks and the rushing water, but nothing came. The path twisted and turned, leading them to the end of the cave where the stream flowed into a grated outflow—a dam-like structure built into the rock, with water spilling through an opening that led who-knows-where.
The air was cooler here, the mist from the rushing water creating a damp haze. As they stood there, watching, a glowing fish came swimming against the current. It was beautiful, its scales shimmering in the dim light of the cave, and it moved effortlessly despite the prodigious flow of water. James couldn't help but be impressed, his eyes following the fish as it navigated the fierce current with ease. He could see the muscles in its body rippling, each flick of its tail propelling it forward with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly.
"Huh, guess that explains where the fish were going, hey?" Joey said, more a statement than a question. He was still tugging at his dress, adjusting the sleeves that had gotten caught on some jagged rock earlier. There was something comical about seeing Joey in that dirty, torn wedding dress—especially while making observations about glowing fish.
"Yeah," James replied, eyeing the fast-moving water. "I don't think there's anything for us here, unless you fancy a dive?" He flashed Joey a grin, knowing full well that neither of them had any intention of braving that kind of water.
Joey chuckled, shaking his head. "Uhh, I think I'll take a pass for now. I don't wanna get my dress wet before the big day," he said with a grin, tugging at the frayed hem of the wedding dress he was still wearing.
James smirked. "Well, let's head back then. Maybe we’ll walk around the lake? We still need to figure out what else is in this place."
"Yeah, not much else to be found here," Joey agreed, his tone relaxed. He gave the stream one last look before turning to follow James back the way they had come.
They turned and began walking back along the stream, retracing their steps. They passed through the first cavern, where the dark hallway they had entered from lay, the path that had brought them into this strange series of caves. James felt a faint buzzing in the back of his head, a strange sensation that made him feel uneasy, but he ignored it. He was about to mention it to Joey when a shadow moved above them.
Before James could react, another salamander dropped from the ceiling, landing directly on top of Joey. Its claws raked across Joey's head as it fell, leaving shallow cuts that immediately began to bleed. This one was different much larger than the others, more black—it let out a loud, guttural roar, unlike its more silent brethren hissing. The sound echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the walls.
In the silence that followed, James heard it—the unmistakable sound of skittering claws, growing louder. His heart sank as he turned his head, seeing movement in the darkness further down the cave. The faint glow of the fish passing by illuminated what looked like a horde of salamanders, all of various sizes, moving quickly toward them. Their eyes glowed faintly, and their bodies moved in a synchronized, almost eerie fashion, their claws clicking against the stone floor in an unsettling rhythm.
"JAMES! THAT'S A LOT OF SALAMANDERS!" Joey yelled, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and excitement.
James gritted his teeth, his hands tightening around his trident. He could feel the adrenaline kicking in, his heart pounding as he took in the scene. This was it—the moment where all their training, all their effort, would either pay off or fail them. "Alright, Joey! Get ready! We’re going to have to fight our way out of this one!" He positioned himself with the dead end of the cave to the water draining to his back, his senses sharpening. Everything around him seemed to slow down, his focus narrowing to the immediate threat.
Joey roared his eyes locking onto the approaching group. James stepped up beside his friend, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder, ready for whatever was about to come their way. Joey’s fists were clenched, his knuckles white under the strain, and James could see the determination in his eyes.
"Let's do this," James said, his voice steady.