(Dylan)

Wedge finally took a moment to examine his soaked and torn outfit, the fabric clinging heavily to his stone-like skin. He stuck a finger through one gash. “We should pause and hydrate.”

Eury frowned, hugging herself as it rained again. The steady pitter patter against the leaves above filled the air before the drops made their way down the trees to join the puddles below. “We’ve hydrated enough already…” She cast a wary eye up at the open sky. Dylan suspected she was talking to Perun.

Thunder rumbled in the clouds above and flashes arced in the not-too-far distance. Storms like this one forced them to skirt along the tree line, just far enough from falling branches and trees, but close enough to be a more attractive target than them. With nowhere but the ground to sit, they took a standing break, cooling off with refreshing sips from their everflow flasks.

Having a moment to himself, Dylan gazed out at the open field, noticing an unusual profusion of flowers—vibrant bursts of color dotting the meadow, their petals swaying gently in the rain. It was by far the densest cluster of flowers he’d ever seen.

“Something’s changed.” Curiosity pulled him away from the group to inspect the floral anomaly. The storm persisted, growing stronger; the winds now tossed sheets of water at sharp angles into his face. Even the flowers surrendered to the storm, swaying at the stem to the chaotic rhythm of each gust.

The soil in the field had reached saturation; puddles of water pooled across the dense meadow floor. The tightly packed plants provided a springy, woven pad beneath Dylan’s feet. Too late, he realized the ground felt unnervingly similar to an inflatable bouncy house.

“The storm is getting worse,” Wedge called out, his deep voice cutting through the roar of the wind. He waved for Dylan to return to them.

Dylan turned to head back, but the ground under his feet warped and wobbled, rippling like a waterbed about to burst. The tightly woven network of floral roots was the only thing holding it together. A low groan emanated from below, followed by the faint tang of something metallic in the air. He flung his arms out for balance, his breath catching as he froze in place.

Wedge picked up on Dylan’s anxiety. “What is the matter?”

“I’m standing on a bubble. I don’t think it’s safe for me to move.”

A growing pressure from beneath pushed up against the surrounding ground. It felt like standing on a balloon stretched too thin, about to burst.

Dylan scanned the area, but all he could see were the flowers swaying in the storm. Wedge and the other initiates stared at him from near the tree line, their concern growing at his increasingly odd actions.

Wedge took a step toward him.

“Don’t!” Dylan cried out. “Stay where you are.”

There was a slow creaking under his feet, like leather tearing beneath the soles of his boot. The ground trembled faintly as the root system holding the surrounding earth together began failing, pulling apart like ripping Velcro.

‘I’m on top of a gas pocket,’ he thought. The gathered water weakened the earthen membrane between the space below and above, but it was his weight that upset the delicate balance.

Dylan had little time and spoke fast. “Find a big branch, tie a rope to it, and then toss it to—”

That’s as far as he got before the bubble popped. A deafening hiss erupted as warm, noxious gases burst from the hole and into the air, hitting Dylan like a blast of sulfurous wind. The force of the blast knocked him off his feet. Opening his mouth to scream had been a terrible idea; his voice never stood a chance against the vile spewing and black soil that quickly filled his mouth. It tasted bitter and foul with a gritty texture.

The hole blew open wide enough to swallow Dylan. He learned four things before he died. First, he realized his cloak didn’t work while falling on his back. Second, the area underneath them reeked of rot and decay. Third, there was something enormous down there, glowing faintly in the darkness. And fourth, any fall lasting more than three seconds was deadly. Dylan died as he hit the bottom of the cavern with a bone-crushing finality.

> Death 7 – Curiosity of the Void

>

> Void, an ancient Celestial older than Time, had seen countless souls slip through its grasp—torn away by the forces that ruled over life, death, and undeath. But this soul was different. It had been pulled back not once, but repeatedly, in a short span of time.

>

> Curious rather than annoyed, Void lingered, observing the patterns and disruptions this anomaly caused. It had no need for haste. After all, it was eternal. For now, Void watched, looking for opportunities where others saw nuisance.

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

“We should pause and hydrate,” Wedge said.

[Time orb]: Twenty-eight Resets remain.

Eury hugged herself in the rain. “We’ve hydrated enough already,” she grumped.

Dylan practically ran to the tree line, his heart pounding as he put distance between himself and the ominous field, not stopping until he was sure he stood on solid ground.

“What are you doing?” Eury asked, watching him as he ran past.

Dylan pointed over to the flowers where he’d fallen through. “There’s something under those flowers.”

“Dirt?” W’itney asked.

Dylan shook his head. “No, there’s a cave or something. It’s big, smells terrible, and there’s something down there.”

W’itney narrowed their eyes at him. “And how do you know this?”

Dylan chewed on his lip, thinking. He still hadn’t figured out how to answer that question. “I just do.”

Wedge took him more seriously, and asked, “Like the arc beetle?”

Dylan pointed at him excitedly. “Exactly like the arc beetle.”

“Wedge, can you survive a—” He stopped and did some mental math—out loud. “Three seconds squared is nine. Half of that is four point five. Multiply that by gravity’s velocity.” He paused. “Jesus, I hope it’s still nine point eight. Fuck it, I’m rounding. That’s like, forty-five-ish meters. Converting meters to feet, that’s—” He stopped counting on his fingers and looked up at the lithkai, rain dripping into his eyes as he squinted.

“Wedge, can you survive a one-hundred and fifty-foot drop?” His brain let him do all that work before it reminded him that Wedge jumped off the damn airship and survived.

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The big guy was about to answer when Dylan cut him off. “Sorry, wrong question. Can you get back up from a one-hundred and fifty-foot drop?”

“No.”

“That’s… going to be a problem.” He frowned. “There’s a chamber under there that’s at least that deep. I already know it’s a terrible idea, but I think we need to go down there.”

“How do you propose we enter this hidden chamber?” Hay’len asked.

“That’s the easy part. Throw something big and heavy right there.” Dylan pointed to where he’d fallen and then held up a hand. “But not yet. We need a plan first.”

He caught himself fidgeting, feeling the wet fabric of his cloak between his fingers, and it gave him an idea. He turned to Eury, the lightest of them all.

Eury noticed his ‘thinking face,’ took a half-step back, and gave him a side-eye. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Wedge, how much rope do we have?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“How much do you want?”

Dylan pursed his lips and guesstimated. “Three-hundred feet?”

Eury leaned on her hip. “That’s an infernal amount of rope, Dylan.”

Realization caught up to her. “Oh no, no, no, no. You’re not sending me down there. You said it yourself. It smells terrible.”

“Are you speaking as Eury the initiate, or as Eury the p—”

“Fine,” Eury huffed. “What do you have in mind?”

Dylan explained his plan to the group. Wedge was the only person he really needed to convince, but it saved time to explain it just once. His plan hinged on teamwork—and a lot of trust.

Wedge crossed his arms, nodding thoughtfully before giving his blessing. “This is a decent plan.” They waited for the storm to pass, and after twenty minutes, the team got to work.

Wedge didn’t have a rope per se, but he had a common-ranked magical item: a rusted metal chain. Wedge held the foot-long chain to Dylan. It was warm to the touch, the orange dust staining his fingers. One end had a three-pronged grappling hook, the other a regular metal hook. The chain was much lighter than expected.

Dylan lifted the chain to eye level. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“That is my cambion climber. A combination of infernal and time magic—”

“Hold up. I thought Time magic was illegal, or evil, or something?”

“Tools are neither good nor evil. This magic item utilizes the temporal-exchange effect—doubling its length at the cost of halving the duration.”

Wedge pulled an imaginary chain part with his hands. “You can repeat the effect many times until the duration runs out. While in this resting state, it stores time; up to two-hundred hours. I am excited. I have not found a reason to use it until now.” The corners of his stony mouth upturned slightly.

Dylan examined the chain and then lifted it to look underneath again. “How do you know all of this? I don’t see it written anywhere, and nothing comes up when I touch it.”

“Purchased items should be fully explained by the merchant.” Wedge adjusted his stance. “Items received from a lootbox, like my cambion climber, will display a notification, explaining what it does before you accept the item.”

“What if you… skip the notification? How do you go back and read them again?”

“It would be very foolish to skip a notification. Do not skip them.”

“Got it, but what if you… forget? Is there a way to replay the notification?”

“No.” Wedge gave him a flat look. “Dylan, did you skip the notifications from your orb?”

“Maybe…” Dylan busied himself with the cambion climber, purposefully avoiding Wedge’s scrutinizing gaze.

Wedge placed his stony hand on his hip. Dylan recognized this as his ‘I’m waiting for the truth’ pose.

“Kinda?” Dylan winced, slumping his shoulders in shame and defeat.

The big guy wasn’t buying what Dylan was selling. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before coming clean. “Okay, yeah I did. But in my defense, I thought I was dying and the afterlife was trying to get me to read some end user license-thingy.”

“And you did not think an afterlife notification might be important?”

“So, back on Earth, they have EULA—”

“Don’t spell.” The four of them said in unison.

‘It’s like they practiced,’ he thought, narrowing his eyes at them.

He sighed and tried again, waving his hand dismissively. “Sorry, they have end user license agreements for just about everything. Nobody really reads them. We just click accept and get on with our lives.”

“And afterlives, apparently,” Eury said.

“I can’t believe you skipped your ability notification,” Hay’len said, looking genuinely confused.

“So, you do not know what your ability does?” Wedge asked.

“Nope.” Dylan hung his head.

“Or your passive?” W’itney asked.

With no other recourse, he just shook his head.

Wedge tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps there are other ways to find out what they do. I will ask Guildmaster K’hab when we return.”

Dylan didn’t feel comfortable talking about his ability, even peripherally. “So, how do I use this thing?” He held up the cambion climber.

“You pull on both sides of the center link at the same time. That will start the duration timer and double the length of it.”

Wedge’s voice lowered slightly as he continued. “But remember, each time you double the length, you will half the remaining duration.”

Dylan nodded, scrutinizing the chain as he mentally counted in binary, ‘1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256… not enough. I’ll have to go to 512.’

“I’ll have to double it nine times to have enough length. That’ll give us 512 feet to work with. How much time did you say we started with?” he asked.

“Two-hundred hours,” Wedge said.

Dylan put on his ‘thinking face’ again as he calculated how much time they’d have. Eury raised an eyebrow as she watched him use his fingers to count.

“100, 50, 25, 12.5, 6.25, uh…. 3, 1.5, 0.75, 0.37ish. What’s 37 percent of an hour?” Dylan asked.

“Twenty-two minutes,” Hay’len answered.

Dylan gave them a nod. “Thank you. We’ll have about twenty minutes to get down there, poke around, and then get back up.”

“There will be no poking around,” Wedge said. “Observation only.” He looked at Eury, who nodded in agreement.

Dylan wanted them to keep their distance, so his plan was to throw something to mark the spot. He threw a stone at where he’d fallen. The rock landed with a wet thud, falling short. “Crap, that’s not where I wanted it to go.”

“Perhaps you should try aiming,” Eury said smugly.

Dylan wasn’t sure if she was grumpy because she had to go down into the stinky cave or because she was soaked. He’d also hogged the deathwash machine last night… Honestly, it could’ve been several reasons.

He gave it three more tosses, landing too far on either side, and the last one overshot his mark. “Okay. Admittedly, I suck at throwing, but if you aim for the area in between all of them…”

Eury sighed audibly, exchanging a glance with W’itney, who wasn’t hiding their amusement.

Wedge understood the assignment, picking up and tossing a rock the size and shape of a lopsided basketball. It landed on target with a squish instead of the expected thump.

“Perfect, a couple more and—” The rock sank with a wet slurp, disappearing into the ground.

Wedge tossed a slightly larger one, its weight opening a hole large enough for them to see from the tree line. The explosive pressure spewed noxious fumes into the air as built-up gases escaped. It didn’t take long for the stench to hit them. The rest of the group gagged, some covering their mouths, as the noxious smell carried notes of acid and metal so overpowering it felt like they could taste it.

“Something died down there…”

“That’s… terrible.”

“Why’s it smell like sweaty feet?”

Dylan questioned that last remark, covering his nose as he turned to Eury. He slipped out of the orange cloak and held it out to her. “Do you want to use my cloak? It lets you glide if you fall. Just… don’t fall on your back. It doesn’t work that way.”

Eury glanced down at his offered cloak, her expression softening at his thoughtfulness for a moment before the smell reinforced the grimace on her face.

Dylan grasped the cambion climber in both hands before he asked, “How will we keep track of the time?”

Wedge held up his wrist and pointed to the leather band. “I’ve got a chronometer.”

“Give it to Hay’len. They’ll be in charge of letting us know when fifteen minutes have passed so Eury can get back up in time.”

“What am I supposed to do?” W’itney asked, the only one who didn’t have an assignment for this mission.

“I don’t know. Stand there and look pretty,” Dylan said.

W’itney smiled, flaunting the remark to Hay’len. “Dylan thinks I’m the pretty one.”

“You’re identical twins…” Eury said.

Hay’len marked the time when Dylan pulled the chain apart nine times. Wedge took up his end, dragging most of it past two large trees. The chain gave a soft metallic clink as he anchored the grappling hook around the furthest one, using the closer tree as a friction hitch to lower Eury. Not that he’d need any help to hold her weight, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The determined elf wrapped the chain around her waist, weaving it through her belt to make sure she wouldn’t slip out. Her boots squelched softly in the saturated ground as she approached the hole. She kept tension on the chain in case the cavern entrance suddenly expanded with a larger collapse.

Almost to the aperture, Eury let out a cry. “Mother help me!” She buried her face in the crook of her elbow. “Dylan,” she gagged. “This is by far the foulest—Oh, I think I might…” She coughed, the acrid stench burning her throat, and composed herself just in time to keep her last meal down.

Dylan watched the anguish on Eury’s face as she turned toward them to rappel down into the tunnel. He wondered if his mouthful of dirt saved him from the full force of the putrid scent.

Eury’s vengeful glare told him she’d never forget this. She took a deep breath and descended into the stinking darkness.