He was cold, he was hungry, and he was lost. The only source of heat was Ember, the loyal hellhound pup nestled against his side. Lance shivered as he thought of everyone he knew: Jory, Elara, Thorne, the lord, Father Elias—they were all gone. What would he do now without them?

The weight of his loss pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn't stay here forever. He had to keep moving. With a heavy heart and trembling limbs, Lance decided to drag himself onward, hoping to reach somewhere safe. Each step was a struggle, his body aching with exhaustion and grief.

He trudged through the night, guided only by the faint light of the stars and the warmth of Ember at his side. The journey was a blur of pain and darkness, his mind drifting in and out of consciousness. His thoughts were a jumbled mix of memories and fears, but he pushed on, driven by the promise he had made to himself.

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Hours passed, or perhaps it was days—Lance couldn't tell. His vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, unable to take another step. Ember curled up beside him, the pup's body radiating warmth and comfort.

As the darkness closed in, Lance whispered a silent prayer to any deity who was watching, hoping for strength and guidance.

Finally, Lance's body gave in to exhaustion. He blacked out, the world fading away into a void of nothingness.