The wind howled like a living thing, shrieking as it funneled through the narrow pass. Rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through Rowen’s cloak and plastering it to her scales. Each step sent water splashing around her boots as the narrow trail dissolved into a rushing stream. The air was heavy with the metallic tang of wet rock and the faint, sour smell of churned earth.

Behind her, Illinca stumbled, clutching at the edge of the cliff wall to steady herself. “Rowen!” she shouted, her voice barely cutting through the storm. “We need to find shelter!”

Rowen turned, her sharp eyes scanning the jagged landscape. Water cascaded down the sheer rock faces on either side of the trail, pooling in muddy rivulets that threatened to swallow their footing. Another bolt of lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the cliffs in stark relief. For a fleeting moment, she spotted it—a dark opening in the rock face, almost hidden by a cluster of boulders.

“There!” she called back, pointing toward the hollow.

Illinca followed her gaze, her wet fur clinging to her face as she adjusted her hood. The two pressed forward, slipping and sliding across the uneven ground. Rowen’s breath came in short bursts, her muscles straining as the wind threatened to pull her off balance.

By the time they reached the cave, both were soaked to the bone, shivering as the rain continued to lash at their backs. Rowen reached the entrance first, leaning heavily against the rough stone as she caught her breath.

The cave yawned before them, its interior dark and still. Water dripped steadily from the edges of the entrance, pooling on the smooth stone floor. Rowen took a cautious step inside, her eyes adjusting to the gloom. The air inside was cool and damp, carrying the faint, earthy scent of moss and stone.

“It’s bigger than it looks,” she murmured, her voice echoing faintly.

Illinca stepped in behind her, shaking water from her hood. Her usually pristine white fur was plastered against her skin, her ears twitching in irritation. “Wonderful,” she said dryly, wringing out her cloak. “I’ll be wet for days.”

Rowen smirked despite herself. “Not if we get a fire going.”

Illinca shot her a wry glance before kneeling by the entrance and pulling her pack off her shoulder. “You’re lucky I brought kindling. Otherwise, we’d be huddling together for warmth, and I don’t think either of us would enjoy that.”

Rowen chuckled, stepping further into the cave. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one with fur.”

The lantern flared to life as Illinca struck her flint, casting a warm glow over the cave walls. The light revealed an expansive chamber, the ceiling arching high above them. The floor sloped gently downward into a yawning darkness, the far reaches of the cave obscured by shadow.

“Goes back pretty far,” Rowen observed, peering into the depths.

Illinca didn’t look up from her work, arranging the kindling into a small pile. “We stay near the entrance. The last thing we need is to get lost or stumble into something’s den.”

Rowen nodded, stepping back to help. Together, they gathered a few damp branches scattered near the entrance, enough to fuel the flames for a while.

It took effort, but soon the fire crackled to life, its warmth cutting through the cold that had seeped into their bones. Rowen sat close to the flames, holding her hands out as steam rose from her soaked clothes.

“Better already,” she muttered, glancing toward Illinca.

Illinca sat across from her, combing her fingers through her fur to wring out the last of the water. The firelight danced in her sharp green eyes as she leaned back against the wall. “You think it’ll let up by morning?”

Rowen shrugged. “Hard to tell. Could be just a bad storm.” She paused, tilting her head toward the entrance, where the rain continued to pour in unrelenting torrents. “Or we could be stuck here for a while.”

Illinca frowned, her gaze distant. “If the trail’s flooded by morning, we won’t be going anywhere. Mudslides are common in weather like this.”

Rowen exhaled sharply, pulling her knees to her chest. “Great. We’re stuck in a hole with no idea how long this’ll last. Perfect start to a grand adventure.”

Illinca raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather be out there?”

Rowen smirked. “Maybe. At least it’d be interesting.”

Illinca rolled her eyes, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “You’ve got an odd idea of fun.”

The wind howled outside, the sound echoing faintly through the cave. For a moment, the two sat in silence, the crackling fire their only comfort against the storm. The cave loomed around them, vast and mysterious, but for now, it was their haven.

Rowen woke to the steady drum of rain against stone and the occasional distant crack of thunder. The fire had burned down to embers, and the air in the cave had grown cold and damp. She stretched, her joints stiff from sleeping against the hard ground, and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.

Illinca was already awake, crouched near the entrance of the cave with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her gaze was fixed on the storm outside, her white fur fluffed slightly in the chill.

“Any better out there?” Rowen asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

Illinca glanced over her shoulder, her expression grim. “No. If anything, it’s worse.”

Rowen joined her at the entrance, peering out into the gray haze beyond. The storm showed no signs of relenting. Water poured down the mountainside in torrents, carving deep channels into the earth. The trail they had followed the day before was now a muddy river, its edges crumbling under the relentless assault of the rain.

“We’re not going anywhere in that,” Illinca said, her voice heavy with resignation.

Rowen sighed, leaning against the cave wall. “Mudslides?”

Illinca nodded. “A real risk. Even if the rain lets up, the ground will be too unstable to travel for at least a day or two.”

“Fantastic,” Rowen muttered, crossing her arms. “Trapped in a cave with nothing but damp clothes and a half-empty pack of supplies. Perfect.”

Illinca smirked faintly. “You make it sound so glamorous.” She stood and dusted off her knees. “We might not have to wait, though. I could try something.”

Rowen raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What kind of ‘something’?”

Illinca moved to her pack and began pulling out small pouches and bundles of herbs, her movements precise and practiced. “Ritual magic,” she said simply.

“Magic?” Rowen’s interest sharpened. She crouched beside Illinca, watching as the other woman spread her tools out on a small cloth. “I thought magic was all flashy spells and glowing lights. What’s this?”

Illinca chuckled softly. “This isn’t the kind of magic you’re thinking of. Ritual magic is slower—less about force and more about influence. It takes time, preparation, and patience, but it can be powerful when done right.”

Rowen leaned closer, examining the tools. There were dried herbs tied into small bundles, a shallow bowl, a length of chalk, and several candles. “And you think you can stop the storm with this?”

“Not stop it,” Illinca corrected. “But I can weaken it—calm the winds, slow the rain. Make it safe enough to travel. It won’t be immediate, though. A ritual like this could take hours, maybe even a full day to see results.”

Rowen’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Sounds like a lot of effort for a weather report.”

Illinca shook her head, her expression serious. “It’s not about certainty. It’s about tipping the scales. Shifting possibilities.”

Rowen fell silent, watching as Illinca began organizing her supplies. After a moment, she asked, “Can you teach me?”

Illinca paused, glancing up in surprise. “You want to learn?”

Rowen shrugged, her tone casual but her gaze intent. “Why not? Seems like it could be useful.”

Illinca smiled faintly, a rare warmth in her expression. “It’s not easy. Ritual magic requires focus and an affinity for it. Some people can do a little; others can do a lot. You won’t know until you try.”

“Well,” Rowen said, gesturing at the storm outside, “it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do.”

Illinca chuckled and reached for a small pouch of herbs. “All right. Let’s start with something simple. A ritual for fortunes favor.”

Illinca worked with calm precision, her hands deftly arranging the ritual’s components on the smooth stone floor near the fire. A small bronze bowl sat at the center of the setup, surrounded by a sprig of mint and a few clovers that Illinca had pulled from her pack.

Rowen sat cross-legged across from her, watching with quiet fascination. “So… what’s the plan?”

Illinca glanced up, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “This ritual is meant to encourage good fortune. It’s simple and effective—perfect for a beginner.”

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“Encourage good fortune?” Rowen said, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like a fancy way to say it’s a luck spell.”

Illinca chuckled softly. “If calling it that helps you focus, then sure, it’s a luck spell.” She held out a small silver coin. “Here. This will be your token. It needs to stay with you after the ritual is complete.”

Rowen turned the coin over in her fingers, the metal cool and smooth. “And this will make me lucky?”

“It’ll help tip the odds in your favor,” Illinca replied, her voice patient but firm. “But it’s not a guarantee. Ritual magic is about subtle influence, not absolute control.”

Rowen gave the coin a skeptical look but said nothing.

Illinca lit a small candle and placed it beside the bowl. “Here’s how it works. First, toss the coin into the bowl along with the clover and mint. Then light the candle, focus on your intent, and recite the chant I give you. When you’re done, you’ll burn the contents of the bowl and let the candle burn out naturally. Simple enough?”

Rowen nodded, her expression shifting from skeptical to thoughtful. “I think I can handle that.”

Illinca handed her the bowl and the small bundles of mint and clover. “The most important part is focus. You have to hold your intention clearly in your mind. What are you hoping to gain? What kind of luck do you need?”

Rowen hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the bowl. Part of her felt ridiculous—magic wasn't something she'd ever believed in. Yet after everything they'd been through, after losing so much in Borollai, what did she have to lose?

"I guess..." she started, then stopped. Her voice grew quieter. "Luck for the journey ahead. For surviving. For finding the people taken from us."

She glanced at Illinca, searching her face. "Do you really believe this works?"

Illinca's expression softened, something rare and vulnerable crossing her features. "Magic isn't about guarantees," she said quietly. "It's about hope. About believing there's something in the universe that might just listen."

Rowen took a deep breath and began the ritual. She tossed the coin into the bowl, followed by the herbs. The scent of mint filled the air as the leaves crumbled slightly under the coin’s weight. With a steady hand, she lit the candle, the small flame casting flickering shadows on the cave walls.

“What’s the chant?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Illinca leaned forward, her voice low and rhythmic as she recited:

“Fortune’s favor, hear my call,

Guide my steps, protect us all.

By flame and leaf, my will I bind,

Bring luck and light to heart and mind.”

Rowen repeated the chant, her voice gaining confidence with each word. The flame danced higher for a brief moment, the herbs in the bowl glowing faintly as the energy of the ritual built.

When she finished, Illinca handed her a matchstick. “Now burn the contents. The ash binds the ritual’s power to the token.”

Rowen struck the match, holding it over the bowl. The mint and clover caught quickly, curling into blackened embers around the coin. The faint smell of smoke mingled with the damp air, and Rowen leaned back, watching the flames die down.

Illinca nodded in approval. “Let the candle burn out on its own. Keep the coin with you—it’s your anchor to the ritual.”

Rowen picked up the slightly warm coin and turned it over in her fingers. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Illinca said with a small smile. “How do you feel?”

Rowen tilted her head, considering. “Honestly? A little ridiculous. But also… like maybe it worked.”

Illinca chuckled. “That’s a good start. Luck doesn’t show itself all at once. You’ll see.”

Rowen pocketed the coin, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. "Well, if I suddenly find a treasure chest or avoid getting eaten by something, I'll know who to thank."

Illinca grinned, leaning back against the cave wall. "Just remember, luck isn't everything. You'll still need your wits and strength."

What neither of them noticed was how the coin seemed to grow slightly warm in Rowen's pocket, its silver surface catching a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer in the firelight.

Rowen nodded, her gaze drifting toward the deeper shadows of the cave. The thought of exploring those depths tugged at her curiosity, but for now, she let the fire’s warmth lull her into a calm she hadn’t felt in days.

The storm still raged outside, its roar muffled but constant, as the firelight flickered weakly against the damp cave walls. Rowen fidgeted with the coin she’d just used in the ritual, rolling it between her fingers as she stared into the shadows stretching deeper into the cavern.

“We’ve been sitting here long enough,” Rowen said, breaking the silence. She stood and stretched, her joints stiff from hours spent on the hard stone floor. “Why don’t we see what’s back there?” She nodded toward the cave’s darker recesses.

Illinca looked up from her pack, where she was carefully sorting her ritual supplies. “We’re safe here. There’s no reason to go poking around and risk running into something.”

Rowen smirked. “What could be back there? A bear? Pretty sure they don’t like the smell of wet Drakel or Mehrat fur.”

Illinca’s ears twitched, her lips quirking into a faint smile despite herself. “It’s not the smell I’m worried about—it’s the ground giving way under your feet. Or worse, you waking something that prefers wet Drakel as a snack.”

“Come on,” Rowen said, picking up the lantern Illinca had left near the fire. “If we’re stuck here, we might as well make use of the time. Besides, don’t you want to know what’s down there?”

Illinca sighed, standing and brushing off her cloak. “I’ll regret this,” she muttered, taking the lantern from Rowen’s hand. “If we’re doing this, we do it carefully. No wandering off, no running, and no touching things that look suspicious. Agreed?”

Rowen gave a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

The pair moved deeper into the cave, the warm glow of the fire fading behind them as the lantern light became their only guide. The air grew cooler the farther they went, heavy with the scent of damp earth and stone. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, each drop echoing faintly in the silence.

“Bigger than it looked,” Rowen murmured, her voice hushed as the cavern widened before them. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, glinting faintly in the flickering light. The ground sloped downward, uneven but navigable.

Illinca’s sharp eyes darted around the chamber, taking in every detail. “Natural formations,” she said quietly, running a hand along the rough wall. “No signs of tools or carvings. This place hasn’t been touched by anyone for a long time.”

“Good,” Rowen said with a grin. “Means whatever’s down here is ours to discover.”

Illinca shot her a wary glance but said nothing, her focus shifting to the uneven floor ahead. “Watch your step. It’s getting slick.”

The cave grew colder and darker as they ventured deeper, the warmth of the fire long behind them. The lantern light flickered against the damp walls, casting jagged shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with every step. The air was thick with the scent of wet stone, and the steady plink of dripping water echoed endlessly.

The cave expanded before them, its dimensions far more extensive than their initial glimpse had suggested. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged teeth, glinting faintly in the flickering light. The ground descended in an uneven slope, challenging but navigable.

Illinca's sharp eyes cataloged every detail. "Natural formations," she said quietly, running a hand along the rough wall. "No signs of tools or carvings. This place has been untouched for centuries."

The cave floor began to slope downward more sharply, and Rowen's boots slipped slightly on the damp surface. Something felt different—a subtle give beneath her feet, almost imperceptible. Illinca's ears twitched, her head tilting slightly as if catching a distant, faint sound.

"Do you hear that?" she murmured.

Rowen paused. "Hear what?"

A low, almost imperceptible rumble seemed to vibrate through the stone—so soft it could have been her imagination. Illinca's ears flattened slightly. "Nothing," she said, her voice unconvinced. "Just the cave settling."

She caught herself with a grunt, glancing back at Illinca. "Careful," she said, smirking faintly. "Wouldn't want you to ruin that fur again."

Illinca shot her a look but said nothing. Her gaze shifted to the path ahead, narrowing at the faint glisten of pooled water along the edges of the trail.

The ground shifted beneath them.

In that first instant of collapse, Rowen's mind flashed with a single, terrifying thought, “Illinca.” The rock crumbled, and for a heart-stopping moment, all she could think about was losing her companion in the absolute darkness.

"Illinca!" she screamed, more in panic than anything else.

Rowen had just taken another step when she felt the rock give way. The sensation was sudden and sickening, the solid ground crumbling into loose rubble beneath her feet.

"Hold on!" Illinca's voice was sharp, pragmatic even in crisis. Her survival instincts kicked in immediately, her body twisting to minimize the fall's impact.

For a heart-stopping moment, Rowen flailed, her arms pinwheeling as she fought to regain balance. Then the floor collapsed entirely, and they were falling together, darkness swallowing them whole.

The darkness swallowed her in an instant, the lantern light vanishing as Illinca fell after her. The rush of air roared in Rowen’s ears, mingled with the sound of rock and debris tumbling alongside her.

She hit icy water hard, the impact slamming the breath from her lungs. The shock of the cold was immediate and brutal, stealing what little air she had left. She sank, the weight of her soaked cloak dragging her deeper into the black depths.

Her instincts screamed at her to move, to fight, to reach the surface. Rowen clawed at the water, her arms and legs thrashing as she struggled upward. Her head broke through the surface with a desperate gasp, her lungs burning as she gulped in air.

The current was merciless. It seized her the moment she surfaced, dragging her along with terrifying speed. The roar of rushing water was deafening, and she could see nothing but the faint glint of foam in the darkness.

“Illinca!” she shouted, her voice hoarse and nearly drowned by the river’s roar.

“I’m here!” Illinca’s voice came from somewhere ahead, faint but steady. “Keep swimming!”

Rowen kicked harder, her arms aching as she fought to stay afloat. The water churned around her, slamming her into unseen rocks and dragging her beneath the surface more than once. Each time she surfaced, her chest heaved, her breaths ragged and desperate.

The current grew faster, the river narrowing into a violent torrent that hurled her forward. Jagged rock walls blurred past, close enough that she could see the striations of mineral deposits. The sound of rushing water deepened into a rumble that vibrated through her bones, a warning of something ahead.

Then she saw it.

A dark line where the water simply... disappeared. The waterfall's edge approached with terrifying speed, the mist rising like a ghostly curtain. Rowen had just enough time to twist her body, to try to control her descent, before the world dissolved into a chaos of sound and motion.

Rowen barely had time to scream before the current seized her fully, hurtling her toward the edge. She reached out blindly, her fingers scraping against the slick rock walls as she tried to slow her descent. It was useless.

The fall was chaos.

She tumbled through the air, the world spinning as cold mist enveloped her. A desperate thought flashed through Rowen's mind, “Is this how it ends? After everything we've survived?” The roar of the waterfall was deafening, a thunderous crash that drowned out every thought. She hit the water below like a stone, the impact knocking the air from her lungs and sending pain lancing through her body.

For a terrifying moment, she sank again, the freezing depths closing around her like a vice. Her thoughts fragmented—memories of Borollai, of the people she'd sworn to find, flickered like dying embers. “I can't fail now,” she thought, “Not here, not like this.” Her limbs felt sluggish, every movement an uphill battle against the cold and the weight of her sodden clothes.

Then she broke the surface once more, coughing and gasping for air. Her vision blurred, and the glow of faintly luminescent fungi along the cavern walls was her only guide.

“Rowen!” Illinca’s voice cut through the chaos, closer this time.

Rowen turned her head, blinking water from her eyes. Illinca was struggling toward her, her strokes powerful despite the current.

“Swim to the shore!” Illinca shouted, her voice sharp with urgency.

Rowen barely registered the words, her body moving on instinct as she paddled toward the faint outline of the bank. Her legs burned, her muscles screaming with every kick, but she pushed forward, her focus narrowing to the promise of solid ground.

The current finally released her as she reached the shallows, her knees scraping against the rocky bottom. She dragged herself onto the shore, collapsing onto the wet stone with a groan.

Illinca staggered out of the water moments later, falling to her hands and knees beside Rowen. She was shaking, her fur plastered to her skin, but her eyes were sharp as she scanned their surroundings.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the distant roar of the waterfall and the soft drip of water from the stalactites above.

Then Rowen rolled onto her back, coughing weakly as her lips curled into a wry smile. “So much for luck.”

Illinca blinked, then let out a short, incredulous laugh.

Rowen grinned, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. “Hey, we’re alive, aren’t we?”

Illinca shook her head, her laughter growing until it echoed faintly off the cavern walls. It was absurd—wet, cold, and stranded underground—and yet, for a moment, the weight of it all seemed lighter.