(Dylan)

The rain continued to pour down on them. Lightning and thunder now worked in tandem, indicating the storm was directly above.

“How long has she been down there?” Dylan asked.

Hay’len wiped the display with a soaked sleeve so they could read the chronometer. “Almost five minutes.”

That gave Eury another ten minutes to explore the cavern before she had to come up. Their only lead to what was happening beneath them was the chain. Dylan’s sole focus was on how it moved. For the past five minutes, since she’d gone down into the darkness, there was a constant tension on the chain. A dance between Eury and Wedge as they worked in tandem to keep it taut.

Before going down into the cavern, Eury had agreed on a signal. A sudden and sharp tug on her end and Wedge would bring her back up.

Dylan watched a ripple in the chain and then it grew slack. Wedge stopped feeding it links and waited. Eury might have just paused to inspect something. The big guy had made it clear; she was only to observe and shouldn’t be touching anything down there.

Dylan counted the seconds in his head since the chain stopped moving.

‘One, two, three, … nineteen, twenty—It’s been too long since she’s moved,’ he thought. He stopped staring at the chain, turned to Wedge, and said, “Something’s wrong.”

Wedge, still waiting on Eury’s signal, seemed surprised when he spoke up.

Dylan motioned toward the chain. “Pull her up.”

Hay’len glanced up from the chronometer. “But she’s still got nine and a half minutes.” They shot him a confused expression, not understanding his deviation from the plan.

“I don’t care what the clock says. Get her up now.” He was about to reach for the chain and do it himself when Wedge acted.

The big guy yanked, one arm’s length at a time, in rapid succession. It had already stripped the bark off the tree during Eury’s descent. Now it was an actual chainsaw; wood chips and pulp spat out the back of the chain as it chewed into the tree, filling the air with the scent of burning wood and the grinding whine of metal against timber.

After a dozen pulls, the muddied chain made its way around the tree and reached Wedge. But even that didn’t slow him down; it just flung mud, dirt, and wood chips everywhere.

That’s when Dylan noticed the next problem. Wedge had pulled too fast, and the damage was done. The chain cut its way deep into the ground beside the tunnel. Now, the angle was wrong, and Eury would get lodged between the ground and the chain until it ripped her in half.

“Stop!”

The chain halted, jumping up and down from the tension. Dirt and mud fell from the links as the rain loosened their hold. “What is wrong?” Wedge asked.

W’itney stared at the unmoving chain. “What are we waiting for?” They looked to Wedge and Dylan for an answer neither of them had.

“The chain.” Dylan pointed at the cavern entrance. “It’s… wrong.” His hand hovered uncertainly as he struggled to translate what his instincts were telling him.

“What about the chain?” Wedge asked.

“She’s going to get stuck.” Dylan ignored any further questions and let himself cook.

Wedge had to stay put as the anchor for the line. Neither of the twins understood the problem. The chain needed to be lifted from the mud and repositioned over the hole. He’d have to be the one to do it, and the worst-case scenario was he’d get reset again. Then he’d warn Wedge to pull Eury up slower next time.

He dashed out from the tree line and into the field of flowers. This time, he’d disperse his weight over a larger area. Just like in baseball, he leaned back, sliding feet-first, and expected to hydroplane his way across the field to the tunnel. But the flowering plants were too thick and stopped him almost immediately.

Cursing himself for dropping too early, he rolled sideways until he was in position. The smell only grew worse as he approached the opened cavern—a fetid wound trying to infect the world above with its stench.

He took the chain in both hands and tried to lift, but nothing moved. He had no leverage while lying on the ground, and even though Eury had been the lightest of them all, he was also the weakest.

He rolled away twice and slid his shotgun between the chain and the ground. Without enough surface area to distribute the weight, it quickly sank into the mud. It wouldn’t budge as he tried to push it closer to the hole. He’d need a better way to distribute the weight from the chain.

Covered in mud, Dylan glanced at the chain, his legs, and then to Wedge. A new and terrible idea had just finished cooking.

He squeezed himself under the chain. First, he slipped his feet underneath it, then he dragged it up along his shins, over his knees, and, finally, onto his thighs. It was a tight fit, and he really struggled with the last part, but his legs had always been the strongest part of his body.

By flexing his quads, he could lift and scoot his way back to the entrance. The chain now draped tightly across his thighs and down into the darkness beside him, its weight pressing uncomfortably into his muscles.

Terrifying visuals replayed in his mind of the chain chewing through the tree earlier. He shut his eyes in anticipation of the pain. It was time to put Charles’ pants to the ultimate test. Dylan braced himself.

“Pull,” he said, his voice steady despite the pounding in his chest.

Wedge glanced down at the chain in his hands before looking back at Dylan with concern. “Are you sure?”

Dylan had to release his held breath to shout, “Just do it!”

Wedge reached along the chain and pulled cautiously. Link by link, the chain dragged across Dylan’s thigh muscles. The good news was that he wasn’t hungry anymore. The bad news was—

“Aaaaaah!” Dylan screamed, tearing out the flowers as he gripped them tightly. Rippling pain shot through his thighs, sending his eyes wide. The chain halted.

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“You can’t stop,” he pleaded. Tears mingled with the drops of rain, rolling down his cheeks together. Another Charlie horse gripped him as his muscles spasmed from the heavy rippling links, forcing out another cry. Wedge stopped again.

This time, Dylan took a deep breath, turning to face Wedge. The big guy reluctantly met his gaze, his stony eyes pleading for another way.

With three seething breaths, Dylan shouted, “Pull… the goddamn… chain!” His voice cracked under the strain, fists clenching as he braced himself.

Wedge acknowledged him with a nod. Unable to watch, he closed his eyes and went to work.

The blinding white pain returned, but this time, did not relent. Eury’s weight kept the chain positioned over the same spot as Wedge raked him—link after link, again and again.

Dylan howled into the sky, tearing up handfuls of vegetation and mud as he grasped at anything to help channel the pain away. He wept in the microseconds between pulls. The closer Eury got to the top, the more force his legs had to bear.

Was it minutes, seconds, or hours? Pain had distorted his senses, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been when he finally saw the dirty orange cape. He noticed Wedge had stopped pulling, probably because there was a lot of resistance now.

“She’s at the top,” Dylan called out, his voice hoarse from screaming. The rain had eased, but the wind still whipped through the open field.

“Can you get to her?” Wedge asked.

Dylan tried to move, but the chain pinned him in place—he wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t even lean over to reach for her. No, this would have to be done the hard way.

He looked up at Wedge and shook his head, dreading what came next. “You’re going to need to pull hard, a lot harder than before,” he said in a low, resigned voice.

Wedge adjusted his grip on the chain. “Can you handle it?”

‘Absolutely not.’ But Eury wasn’t moving, and he didn’t have a better option.

“Don’t stop until she’s out.” Dylan shut his eyes tight and held his breath, bracing for it.

Wedge rolled his wrist, wrapping the chain around his forearm for more leverage. He applied more and more of his strength, feeling for the minimal force required to get Eury out. The chain had bitten inches into the thick tree’s trunk, already an inevitable death sentence for the timber.

The pressure on Dylan’s legs slowly crept up. Foolishly, he thought he could bear the pain and suffer through. It only took the searing sensation of a snapped femur to knock him unconscious.

Dylan heard his name three times before he woke up. Each time, the voice got closer.

“Dylan,” Hay’len said. They held him by his shoulders, gently shaking him.

He woke up and let out a cry from his failed attempt to sit up. Neither leg was in any condition to move—he’d broken at least one of them. He lay there crippled, turning his head to notice they’d pulled him in with Eury, laying them both side by side, caked in thick layers of mud.

“He’s awake,” Hay’len said to Wedge, who was speaking to a rock, updating Tome & Key.

“She’s not breathing…” W’itney said softly, their words quivering as they spoke. Their hands trembled, clutching tightly at Eury’s.

His head ached on all sides, and he could feel his heartbeat through his pounding skull. The pain made it difficult to think. Attempting to speak was even worse.

“How…” Dylan rasped, his throat still raw from screaming. He swallowed and tried again. “How much time?”

“You got Eury out of the pit. She’s right here next to you.” Hay’len glanced down at his legs briefly, unable to hide the worry on their face.

“I… I can’t find a pulse,” W’itney said, their voice rising with panic, eyes darting between Dylan and Eury.

“She is not breathing,” Wedge said, speaking to the rock. Dylan heard his heavy wet steps walk away to continue to update Tome & Key on their situation.

Hay’len hadn’t heard or understood his previous question. He reached up with an arm and took hold of their collar—grabbing their attention.

Dylan strained to remain in his new position, his arms trembling as he forced them to keep him steady. He made sure they made eye contact before asking through gritted teeth, “How much time did she have left?”

Hay’len, surprised by Dylan’s sudden reaction, remembered they had the chronometer and took it out to get him his answer. “Uh,” they glanced down at the device, “just about seven minutes.”

“She’s… dead.” W’itney whispered, slowly releasing Eury’s hand.

‘Dead? She can’t be,’ Dylan thought. He didn’t cripple himself just for them to give up on her. They were just wasting time. The urgency helped him cut through the pain, allowing him to think.

“Give her a potion,” he said, grimacing as he reached into his pocket, his pruned fingers fumbling through the mud-soaked fabric to find one of his healing potions.

W’itney sniffled, wiping a tear from their cheek. “Potions don’t work without a heartbeat,” they said, defeat heavy in their voice.

“One of you needs to do compressions while the other breathes for her,” Dylan said. But neither of the siblings moved to help.

Dylan’s frustration mounted. “Goddamnit,” he muttered, clenching his fists as he forced himself to think of a solution.

Tome & Key was on the other side of the jungle, Wedge was out of sight, and the twins were in shock. He didn’t have time to find another solution—he was going to have to drink a potion and do it himself.

Surprisingly, he found the vial, unbroken, in his pocket. He popped the top off, brought it to his lips, and poured. Swallowing on his back wasn’t easy. Not all the liquid made it down the proper pipe. Unable to fight the overwhelming urge to cough, he knew exactly what to do.

Dylan pinched his nose and covered his mouth as his body convulsed with sharp spasms, fighting to clear his lungs. He struggled with himself to give the potion time to do its job. Hay’len sat back, furrowing their brow as they watched Dylan suffocate himself.

He gasped, willing himself to roll onto his knees, and ignored the pain as the potion worked to restore his body. His thoughts focused on CPR instructions he’d seen on a YouTube video once.

‘Interlock my fingers, thirty compressions, two inches deep, give two breaths, and repeat until help arrives,’ he mentally repeated, placing his hands on top of each other.

Dylan stared down at Eury’s unmoving chest, preparing himself to perform CPR for the first time in his life. He heard Wedge’s footsteps approaching and, without looking up, he asked, “How far away are they?”

“I am sorry Dylan. I only know they will be here as soon as they can.” Wedge watched him with curiosity, unable to do anything more for his fallen initiate.

Eury was already on her back. Dylan flexed his fingers, his interlocked hands hovering just over her chest.

‘I can do this,’ he thought, not daring to share his nervousness with the others. Logically, he knew that doing nothing would be the worst thing that could happen. He just needed to convince the rest of his brain.

“What… are you doing?” Hay’len asked. They shared a mixture of confusion and disbelief with W’itney. To them, it probably looked like he was about to grope their dead friend.

He tuned them out, shut off his brain, leaned into her, and started counting the compressions out loud as he performed them.

“One, two, … twenty-nine, and thirty.” He wasn’t sure this would work, hoping elf physiology was close enough to humans.

Dylan scooted up toward her head, straightened it, and tilted her chin back. He pinched her nose and then gave her two rescue breaths.

W’itney asked, “Why’s he kissing her?” Hay’len shrugged as both were helpless to look away.

Back and forth, Dylan covered both positions, alternating between the thirty to two ratio. It was a lot of work, and the effort had caught up to him. On the fourth round of compressions, he was exhausted and leaned in too far, feeling a sudden snap as one of her ribs popped.

“Damnit.” He pulled back after hearing the crack. But all he could do was to continue with compressions, wincing every time her ribs clicked under his hands.

Wedge kneeled beside Dylan. “She is gone,” he finally said, gently resting a blocky hand on Dylan’s shoulder.

Too tired to argue, Dylan had to reserve his remaining strength to help Eury. He shrugged off the big guy’s touch and continued to ignore his group, along with his flagging body, as he started the fifth round of compressions. He paused for a moment to steal a breath before scooting back up to breathe for her again.

Eury’s body twitched under him, but he was too tired to notice. He took another deep breath and placed his mouth over hers again. That’s when Eury’s eyes snapped open, wide with confusion and alarm.

“It worked…” W’itney whispered in disbelief.

Eury was confused, hypoxic, and intimately tangled with Dylan. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, blinking rapidly while her mind caught up with her body.

Wedge winced as Eury decked Dylan in the face, sending him sprawling back into the mud. She rolled to her side and coughed, her lungs remembering how to breathe on their own again.