(Dylan)

> Death 6 - Soul Scars

>

> Each reset left its mark on Dylan’s soul, forming a new tear, a new gash—wounds that would eventually scar over. Souls were impossible to destroy. While they were incredibly resilient, they weren’t impervious to tampering, transformation, or damage. Each reset was a trauma, deepening the wounds in his soul, and one day, he would have to confront the weight of those scars and the pieces he had left behind.

[Time orb]: [Dejavu] triggered. Wait.

A large, leathery leaf slapped Dylan across his cheek with a damp smack.

[Time orb]: Twenty-nine Resets remain.

Instead of slapping the leaf away, he reached in and twisted, breaking the waxy stem off at the branch. They were back on top of the ridge, where the air was humid and thick with the scent of damp earth. And most importantly, everyone was still alive.

“Stop!” Dylan said, throwing out his arms. “Everyone stop. No one move.”

Surprisingly, they listened. Ten bodies bunched together, frozen as if time had stopped. Only their eyes and ears moved, scanning for the reason for Dylan’s warning. He was pretty sure most of them were also holding their breath.

“What is it? What do you see?” Wedge asked, standing so still that even his clothes seemed frozen in the faint breeze. If Dylan didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn the unmoving lithkai was a statue.

“It’s coming…” Dylan whispered, sounding much creepier than he intended.

Runemist raised her eyebrows, slowly leaning toward him. “What’s coming?” She, along with the rest of them, searched the area, moving only their eyes.

“The arc beetle,” he said, eliciting a collective shudder from the group.

“Where? I don’t see anything,” she said. Dylan realized he’d given them an unfair task. Technically, it hadn’t arrived yet.

“It’s going to walk into the meadow right over there.” Dylan’s arm extended out to the right side of the meadow. Athrax shot him a skeptical look.

“You don’t know that,” he said, eyes flicking to the cliff, then back to Dylan.

“Don’t even think about sliding down that cliff,” he said, pointing a finger at the old soldier. Athrax looked up and narrowed his eyes at being called out by an initiate. Dylan swallowed hard as the cybernetically enhanced wolf-man stared him down, but he stood firm. He wasn’t about to let Athrax die again.

“And you…” Dylan shot another finger at P’reslen. “The air pressure spikes just before the beetle attacks. It’ll knock you out of the sky. And…” He racked his brain, searching for something that might get through to the overconfident draconi. “It’s not what Lo’kai would do.”

P’reslen’s head tilted, his bright yellow eyes narrowing on Dylan before he gave a thoughtful nod. Confused, he asked, “How—”

“I thought you ran the show, Runemist,” Athrax interrupted. “Or are we lettin’ the pups have a go at it?”

Runemist wheeled on Athrax. “I suggest you think twice before attempting to goad your one and only mender,” she growled. “Try to divide this group again and I’ll have Wedge take your place, and you can join the pups in the back. Are we clear?”

Athrax chewed on his response and then said, “Yes, Ma’am.”

It was Dylan’s turn to have Runemist’s full attention. “I don’t see or hear anything. If an arc beetle was around, I’m sure we’d notice.”

“We can’t go down there.” Dylan pointed to the bottom of the cliff.

“Daylight’s burnin’,” Athrax muttered. A glance from Runemist put him on the back foot. His ears twitched, and he shifted his weight, muttering something under his breath that no one caught. He raised his hands defensively. “Alright, alright.”

“Please, I’m just asking for five minutes,” Dylan said. Runemist hesitated, her tail flicking slightly before she shook her head and opened her mouth to answer.

But Wedge was quicker and calmly suggested, “Perhaps now would be a good time for a water break?” He glanced at the group, letting the weight of his words do the work. She mulled over the idea. It had been a bit since their last one.

“Alright Dylan, you’ve got until the end of this break. Then we’re moving on,” she said, reaching for her own everflow flask.

They spread out the best they could while staying near the top of the ridge. The damp earth smelled of moss and foliage, and the faint hum of buzzing insects filled the air. Dylan plopped down under the shade of a large tree.

Eury took a seat next to him, which was unusual. Miss don’t-call-me-princess usually preferred to be alone.

“My sister says, ‘Adventurers aren’t fearless. They just decide not to let fear tell them what to do anymore.’” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “It’s okay to be afraid.” Her eyes shifted to W’itney and Hay’len. “We all are.”

Eury sat with her legs folded underneath her. Both of them reclined against the tree, its bark rough against their backs. Dylan rubbed his thighs absently, his fingers brushing over the numb muscles as he tried to shake off the lingering tension.

“I didn’t imagine it. In less than five minutes, a five-story tall bug is going to step into the meadow right over there,” he said, pointing with the stem of the large leaf that slapped him. Her expression suggested she was unconvinced. He picked at the stem, tearing off a small chunk of the leaf, and watched as it fell to the jungle floor.

“Does your ability show you the future?” Eury asked.

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‘Shit, I don’t need a Double-Deathloop right now,’ he thought. The last one had nearly broken him. Things would get mighty complicated if they found out about his restricted orb right now. He had to choose his next words carefully. The leaf continued to shrink in his hands as he ripped it into pieces, his mind sifting for the right answer.

“Something like that,” was all he was willing to admit. Sated by his revenge, he tossed what remained of the leaf.

“That sounds like an incredibly useful ability,” she said, unscrewing the cap of her everflow flask. She took a drink from it and looked out past the ridge toward where he’d told her to expect the arc beetle to show.

Three minutes later…

Runemist stowed her everflow flask with a decisive snap and got to her feet. The rest of Tome & Key followed her lead, refreshed and eager to move on. Eury glanced over at Dylan and gave him an apologetic shrug before leaning forward and uncrossing her legs to stand.

“It’s too soon,” Dylan said, getting to his feet. His exhausted legs didn’t respond to the urgency he felt in his chest. He looked at Wedge, pleading for support.

“It appears our break is over,” Wedge said. Athrax stood with half of his foot over the ridge, ready to start down the cliff. He looked to Runemist, waiting for her signal to move out.

Dylan scrambled, pushing his way through the group. “Hey!” “Stop pushing.” “What are you—” “That’s my foot!” He didn’t let any of them stop him from reaching the edge, dangerously close to going over.

He turned to face them and said, “If we go down there, we’re all going to die.” Athrax glared at him. Others were also giving him dirty looks, but he didn’t care. He spread his arms and legs wide, taking a goalie’s stance. The wind whipped at his cloak as he teetered on the edge, every muscle in his body straining to keep his balance.

“Brave, I’ll give him that,” Athrax said, scoffing.

“Move,” Runemist told him, her voice low and her patience thin.

“No,” he said firmly. He planted his feet, rooting himself to the cliff.

“Wedge…” Runemist called for him. The group parted quickly, giving way as the lithkai stepped forward. He didn’t expect Dylan to dodge as he reached for him. His stony hand closed around a fistful of orange cloak just as the ground quivered beneath them, sending a ripple of unease through the group.

“Get back!” Runemist barked, ushering them back toward the tree line.

A satisfied smile crept up Dylan’s face, and he said, “See, I told—”

The next minor quake was enough to cause the edge of the cliff to give way, cutting his words short.

Wedge still had a tight grip on his cloak, and it caught around his neck, halting his descent with a painful crack. Dylan’s vision blurred, his lungs burning as the fabric tightened against his throat. Unable to breathe and overwhelmed by panic, he flailed, trying to free himself.

Slipping out of his cloak, he was now free; finally able to gasp for air even as he tumbled down the cliff.

His descent started feet first, like Athrax had done; the jagged edge of the cliff scraping his boots. An exposed root quickly changed that, snagging his foot and flipping him head over heels; a sharp wrench, twisting his knee.

He tumbled uncontrollably, dirt, sticks, and stones tearing at him as a small landslide followed him. His descent ended abruptly with a sickening thud as a large rock broke his fall—and his arm.

Falling dirt, stones, and other debris caught up, pinning him against the rock. Pain radiated through his body, sharp and unrelenting. Not that he could move, but he was certain he’d broken one leg and dislocated his other knee. Half of his face felt slick and warm; it stung when he tried to open that eye too. But at least one of his arms still worked.

A couple of small rocks shot past him, the last vestiges of the landslide. He was stuck looking up at the cliff. After only one attempt, he gave up trying to look behind toward the unbidden kaiju. The sharp pain and the grinding it caused unsettled him.

Dylan went to spit out the dirt that had collected in his mouth, the briny taste reminding him of flak. It came out black and red. “That’s not good.” His voice was hoarse and barely audible. There wasn’t much he could do now, but wait.

‘At least they’re safe up there,’ he thought, closing his eyes as he smiled. He did his best to ignore the pain. The quakes continued their rhythmic beat and grew stronger as the beetle approached.

A worried thought crossed his mind. Opening his eyes, he scanned the edge of the ridge, the memory of Quinten sacrificing himself to save P’reslen flashing vividly. “And they better stay up there too,” he said. He was going to be pissed if he had to do this again.

“Goddamnit,” he grumbled, watching Quinten poke his head up over the ridge. He tried to shake his head to tell him “no”, but the pain in his neck was too much.

“Don’t you dare.” He glared at the easygoing elf. “Don’t you fucking do it.” The last thing he needed was for any of them to be a goddamned hero.

The low, rhythmic thrum of the beetle’s approach made him sleepy, lulling him to rest his eyes. He knew it was probably a concussion and he should stay awake. Forcing his eyes to open revealed there were now two Quintens peeking their heads out to watch him and the beetle.

He wondered, ‘Why are there two of him?’

He reached up with his good arm to touch the wet side of his face, holding it out at arm’s length for it to come into focus. “Oh, that’s why,” he whispered to himself, looking at his slick red fingers. He caught himself before his eyes shut completely, willing them to stay open.

His eyes remained open, but the darkness came anyway. Lurking at the edges of his vision, it quickly worked its way to the center. He took solace in knowing they were all safe, even if it was only for now. It was a bummer that he’d have to do it all over again. This time, he’d try to catch the leathery leaf before it hit him.

Dylan flinched, trying to avoid a damp smack that never came. He awoke to find himself face to face with a very concerned looking husky. Runemist crouched beside him, shading him from the sun. Most of the pain was gone. Except for his dislocated knee, it was still pinned and twisted.

“We’ll dig you out shortly.” She kept her clawed hand on his shoulder, her touch steady and grounding.

Movement from the cliff caught his attention. Tome & Key, along with Wedge’s group, were carefully descending, their steps slow and deliberate to avoid sending stray debris tumbling toward him. Runemist must have used an ability to reach him so quickly. The rumbling continued, but each one softer than the last.

The team gathered and dug him out by hand. He had to cover his mouth as they raked their hands along the sides of his body to unearth him. He was ticklish and pinned in place, introducing him to a new kind of torture. Once he was free, Runemist touched his shoulder and used her mending ability to fix his twisted knee, now that it was free to realign.

Hay’len stepped forward and held out Dylan’s shotgun. “You dropped this.”

“Yeah, you should be more careful,” W’itney said, earning a chuckle from most of the group. Dylan mustered a weak smile.

They appeared to be one short. Dylan quickly scanned the group, his anxiety rising when he realized who was missing. “Where’s Quinten?”

“Keeping an eye on our new friend,” Ostello said, rarely saying more than necessary. Despite the day’s trek through the jungle and the grueling descent down the cliff, not a single thread of his tailored outfit seemed out of place. Dylan didn’t understand how the intense elf looked as though he’d stepped out of a portrait rather than a jungle.

“He’s got the best escape ability out of all of us, but it works best when he’s alone,” P’reslen added.

Athrax strode up to Dylan, his heavy steps crunching against the dirt as he leaned in close. “How’d you know?”

“Yes. How did you know?” Ostello asked, his gold-flecked eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing every word he said. The rest of the group wore similar questions on their faces, their gazes fixed on him expectantly.

Dylan’s brow furrowed; this was not a problem he was prepared to deal with. He’d just resolved one Deathloop and was already facing a new one. Of all people, Runemist would’ve been the last he’d expect to save him.

“Impressive intuition,” she said, turning toward the direction of Quinten and the beetle. “Speak up if it happens again.”

‘Is it always going to be this way?’ he wondered. How could he explain knowing things that hadn’t happened yet? And it’s not like he could avoid the question forever. Maybe he should say he had an ability, like the one Eury suggested. But lying wasn’t his strong suit—omission was about as far as he could go. He decided those were all problems for Future Dylan.