We spent the night among some rocks, which seemed to be the only remotely safe place in the vast terrain. It wasn’t much, but at least it sheltered us from the cold wind that began to blow harder once the sun set.

Lyris slept beside me, her breathing labored as her body still fought to recover. If it weren’t for her healing ability, she wouldn’t have survived.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t rest. Every sound from the darkness kept me on edge, with creatures prowling nearby, their growls echoing in the distance. I kept one hand close to my sword. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down, not while Lyris was so vulnerable.

The night’s cold made the situation even worse, freezing my bones and rendering any attempt to find warmth useless. I stayed awake, watching the horizon, waiting for the dawn to bring some relief.

When the first rays of sunlight finally started to light the sky, I felt the weight of exhaustion crushing me. Lyris stirred slightly, opening her eyes. She was still weak, but there was a little more color in her face.

“Did you manage to get some rest?” she asked, her voice steadier than I expected.

“Yeah, a little,” I lied, forcing a smile, though my eyes must have given away my exhaustion. I couldn’t let her notice too much, not now.

We pulled out our provisions and ate in silence. The food barely gave us back any energy, but we knew we had to keep moving. Lyris moved cautiously, still recovering.

Her face showed pain with every sharp movement, but she didn’t say anything. Neither did I. Staying here wasn’t an option.

“We need to keep going,” I said, adjusting my gear and making sure everything was in place.

Lyris nodded without a word. Together, we set off, moving carefully, fully aware of how vulnerable we were.

The terrain remained hostile, rocky, and treacherous, demanding more from us than we could give at that moment. Suddenly, a piercing scream rang out. We stopped dead, alert. We searched for the source of the sound until we saw her.

Not far away, a feline-like semihuman woman was running desperately, clutching a child in her arms. Judging by her expression, they didn’t have much time left.

Behind them, a four-legged beast, resembling a gigantic lion but covered in black scales and sharp fangs, was chasing them at full speed. Its claws ripped through the earth and rocks, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake.

“This way!” I shouted, waving my arm to get the mother’s attention. The semihuman hesitated for a moment, her gaze torn between the creature pursuing her and us.

But when she saw the beast closing in, she ran toward us, clutching the child to her chest, fear etched on her face.

Lyris, still breathing heavily, raised a hand and launched a sphere of vital energy at the creature. The impact hit its side, causing it to roar in pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop its advance.

With a deafening roar, the monster continued its chase, undeterred. We knew there wasn’t enough time to confront it head-on.

“Hurry, over here!” Lyris shouted, pointing to a rock formation ahead where we could take temporary shelter.

We ran as fast as our legs could carry us, the creature getting closer with every passing second. Just as the mother and child reached us, the ground beneath our feet began to tremble.

Before we could react, the ground gave way, opening into a massive fissure. The world crumbled beneath us in the blink of an eye. I felt a surge of adrenaline as we fell.

It all happened in an instant: the mother, the child, Lyris, and I were dragged into the opening while the beast, unable to stop, was also swallowed by the fissure.

The monster fell onto a sharp rocky formation, impaling itself on a jagged stone protruding from the ground. A final, gut-wrenching roar escaped its jaws before its massive body went still, blood slowly trickling over the rocks.

The impact when we hit the bottom was brutal. The air was knocked out of my lungs, and the pain in my hands and knees left me stunned.

I tried to stand, but the world around me moved slowly, as if my mind was struggling to process what had just happened. Everything was a blur of shadows and distant echoes.

The cavern we had fallen into was dark, surrounded by jagged rock formations that jutted up like teeth from the ground. Tunnels extended in all directions, and the dense, heavy air made breathing an effort.

In the distance, I could hear the movement of something else—perhaps creatures crawling underground.

I looked up and quickly realized that climbing back the way we had fallen wasn’t an option. The hole was too high, and the smooth, treacherous walls offered no chance of climbing. We would have to find another way out.

Lyris moved slowly beside me, her breathing labored. The fall had affected her more than she wanted to admit. I watched as she gritted her teeth, pushing through the pain as she tried to stand.

I turned my attention to the semihuman mother, who lay on the ground, her face contorted with pain. She had tried to protect her child during the fall, but her own arms and legs trembled from the effort, and every movement seemed to cost her more. Even so, she held the child tightly to her chest, as if afraid to let go.

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The child, though scared, seemed to have escaped with only minor injuries: small scratches covered her skin, but nothing serious. The mother, on the other hand, could barely move. Her legs and arms were tense with pain, and every attempt to move made her face twist in agony.

Lyris, despite her own condition, immediately recognized the severity of the situation. She knelt beside the semihuman and extended her hand. Her fingers trembled, but even so, the healing energy slowly began to manifest.

A soft light enveloped the semihuman’s body, and the pain on her face gradually began to fade.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. I’m Lyris, and that’s my friend Darius over there,” Lyris murmured, her voice barely a whisper. Despite her exhaustion, she continued to fight to help.

The semihuman mother, visibly relieved by the gesture, sighed deeply and said, “Thank you… my name is Sylva, and this is my daughter, Nyla.” Sylva let out another sigh of relief as the worst of her injuries began to heal.

Although the pain didn’t disappear completely, she was able to release the child and make an effort to stand. Nyla, still clinging to her mother’s arm, looked on with fear, but now she felt safe by her side.

I approached Lyris, aware that her energy was nearly depleted. I knew we couldn’t stay there much longer. We had to keep moving.

“Going back the way we fell isn’t an option,” I commented, looking at the hole above. “We’ll have to find another way.”

Lyris nodded slowly, still recovering. “This way,” she said, pointing to one of the narrower tunnels. “Maybe we can find an exit.”

With no other choice, we began to move, knowing that danger still lurked nearby. Every step echoed in the empty cavern.

The tunnel remained narrow, dark, with a pressure that could be felt with each breath. We moved slowly, aware that any noise or sudden movement could alert the creatures lurking in the depths of this cave.

At the end, we saw an exit: a gap high above, just wide enough for a person to pass through. But there was a problem: we would have to climb a rock wall to reach it.

“It’s better than staying in this damned cave,” I muttered through gritted teeth as I stared at the stone wall.

I knew it would be difficult—the rock looked sharp, almost as if it were made of some kind of cutting mineral. A fall would be fatal if we weren’t careful.

“If we keep going through the cave, we have no idea what the hell is waiting for us.”

Lyris nodded slowly. Although her energy was still limited, she seemed to agree. The semihuman, Sylva, also glanced at the exit while tightly holding her daughter on her back.

None of us wanted to risk the unknown, but the thought of falling from such a height wasn’t encouraging either.

We prepared to climb. From the first touch, the rock sliced into our hands with every movement. I could feel my skin tearing as I struggled to keep going. The pain was constant, growing sharper. I cursed under my breath.

“Damn it… this is worse than I thought.”

As we climbed, I could feel that something was wrong, and I knew it before it happened.

Just as we were nearing the exit, small holes in the wall began to release a cloud of insects. These weren’t ordinary insects—their wings buzzed, and their size made them even more threatening. Lyris, her voice trembling but urgent, shouted:

“Shit! Don’t let them sting you! One sting won’t do much, but if there are hundreds… they could kill us.”

Sweat ran down my forehead as I saw them approaching. Sylva and her daughter were right behind us, struggling to climb. The insects buzzed faster, getting closer to all of us.

Fear and desperation took hold of me, but something inside me shifted. I felt the chaos within me begin to stir, filling me with dark energy. To my surprise, the insects seemed to pull back from me.

Lyris was trying to use the little magic she had left to repel them, but she was clearly exhausted. Her breathing was erratic, her hands trembled, and her movements were becoming more and more clumsy.

She was about to lose control. I cursed under my breath, knowing she wouldn’t make it on her own. I concentrated all the chaos I could into my sword, hoping that this damned energy would be of some use. The insects retreated a bit, but it wasn’t enough. I was only holding them off.

“Darius, please help Sylva!” Lyris screamed, desperation filling her eyes with tears. But I looked at Lyris. I knew that if I left her now, the insects would overwhelm her.

“Damn it!” I roared, just as I heard Sylva and her daughter’s agonizing screams. The insects had swarmed them completely.

Sylva tried to hold onto the wall, but her bloodied hands couldn’t grip it. She lost her hold and fell, her daughter in her arms, both engulfed in that damned cloud of insects.

“No!” I shouted. But it was too late. The fall was high—not enough to kill them, but the injuries would be serious… and the insects were still on them.

Lyris, completely beside herself, began climbing down again. She screamed Sylva’s name as if her voice alone could bring them back.

“Lyris, stop! Damn it! It’s too late!” I yelled, trying to snap her out of it. I knew we couldn’t save them, but she was blinded by despair.

Tears streaming down her face, Lyris finally stopped, realizing there was nothing more we could do. She resumed the climb, her sobs barely audible, her movements slow and clumsy.

Meanwhile, I kept concentrating on keeping the insects at bay with my sword. The chaos within it held them off, but I could feel it wouldn’t last much longer.

With every push, we managed to climb a little farther. The cuts on my hands burned, and my body was beginning to fail, but we couldn’t stop. Finally, we reached the exit. Lyris was the first to emerge.

The sun hit her pale face, highlighting the marks of exhaustion and sadness. I quickly followed, staying on guard, expecting the damned insects to follow us. But they didn’t. It seemed they hated the light.

Lyris fell to her knees as soon as her feet touched the ground. Tears streamed down her face, but her expression was hard, cold. There was no consolation for what had just happened.

I approached, but I didn’t say anything. I knew my words wouldn’t ease the pain.

The loss of Sylva and her daughter weighed on us like a stone.

Lyris remained kneeling, her face drenched in tears, her breathing uneven. I could see the pain consuming her—a pain I shared but couldn’t express in the same way.

I knew she needed a moment, but I also knew the path ahead didn’t give us the luxury of staying here for long.

I slowly and cautiously placed my hand on her shoulder. “Lyris… we should rest. We can’t go on like this.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but I felt her muscles tense under my hand. With a sharp movement, she shrugged me off, her eyes staring into nothing as she stood with difficulty.

“Don’t touch me,” she said in a tense whisper, her gaze filled with barely-contained rage. “You could have helped them. Sylva and her daughter… they didn’t deserve this, Darius.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. Lyris continued walking, limping slightly from the effort, her body barely held up by her will to keep going. I stood there, watching her for a few seconds before following. I couldn’t leave her like this.

"Lyris, I’m sorry," I murmured, knowing the words wouldn’t be enough. "I did what I thought was right in that terrible moment. There was no way to save them all..."

She didn’t respond, but her stride became even more tense. I knew I had done the best I could, yet that oppressive guilt followed me like a shadow.

Sylva and her daughter had fallen, and now the weight of that tragedy pushed us forward.

The sun continued to beat down on us, relentless, as we moved through the rocky terrain. Though we had left the cavern, true escape still felt far away.