As Sol and Mary dashed through the ruins, the oppressive darkness pressed in around them, their rapid footsteps echoing through the silent, crumbling city. Sol's heart pounded in his chest, a wild mix of fear and desperation fueling his every step. But something felt wrong. Mary was lagging behind, her once strong pace now faltering. He glanced back, his breath hitching in his throat as he realized she was struggling, her hand slipping from his grasp.

Panic surged through Sol as he pulled her along, but it was as if her strength was draining away with every step. He looked closer, his eyes widening in horror when he saw the dark shaft of an arrow embedded in her back.

"How!?" he gasped, his voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. How had he not noticed before? Were there more archers? His mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos.

Mary stumbled again, her legs giving out beneath her as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She coughed violently, each spasm sending more crimson droplets splattering onto the ground. Sol’s heart clenched painfully at the sight, a deep, agonizing fear twisting in his gut. The realization of her injury hit him like a sledgehammer.

"Mary!" he choked out, his voice raw with fear.

She collapsed, but Sol was quick to catch her, his arms wrapping around her fragile form as she slumped against him. Her breathing was labored, each inhale a struggle, and the warmth of her blood began to seep into his clothes. The reality of the situation crushed down on him, suffocating in its intensity.

With a surge of desperate strength, Sol dragged her into a nearby ruined house, his every move fueled by sheer willpower. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions—terror, helplessness, and a deep, gnawing sorrow. The thought of losing her, after everything they had been through, was unbearable.

Inside the darkened, broken-down structure, Sol laid Mary gently on the cold, hard floor, his hands trembling as he tried to assess her wound. But the sight of the arrow protruding from her back, the blood pooling beneath her, filled him with a paralyzing dread.

His vision blurred with tears as he knelt beside her, his chest tightening with a painful mix of fear and grief. "Mary, please... stay with me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His heart ached, knowing he was powerless to save her, the weight of his helplessness crushing him. Every breath she took felt like it could be her last, and the thought was more than he could bear.

Sol’s mind raced, frantically searching for a way to help her, but the reality was stark and unyielding. He was losing her, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The thought tore through him like a blade, leaving a hollow, aching void in its wake.

As Mary’s breaths grew weaker, Sol’s grip on her tightened, his tears flowing freely now. The world around them faded into a cold, bitter void, leaving only the devastating truth of their situation. Sol's heart shattered under the weight of his emotions, the overwhelming pain of losing someone he didn’t know but somehow cared for deeply gnawing at his very soul.

Mary’s voice, barely more than a whisper, broke through the suffocating silence. “I... remember something...” she murmured, her breath shaky and faint.

“What? Don’t talk about this now,” Sol replied, his voice thick with desperation. His mind raced, frantically trying to think of some way to save her, but nothing came to him. Panic surged through him, a wave of helplessness crashing down as he realized just how powerless he was. He couldn’t lose her—not now, not when they had just begun to fight for their survival.

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A faint, almost wistful laugh escaped Mary’s lips. “Hahaha... Happy birthday...” she whispered, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread connecting them to a past that was slipping away.

Sol froze, his eyes widening in shock. Her words hit him like a lightning bolt, jolting something deep within his mind. A sharp pain shot through his skull as memories he had long buried began to resurface, breaking through the fog that clouded his mind.

Flashes of another time, another life, surged before his eyes. He saw a girl with a bright smile and warm eyes, a girl who had meant the world to him. He saw them laughing together, sharing moments of joy, and celebrating a birthday. The realization struck him like a tidal wave—he and Mary had known each other before all this, before the chaos and the darkness. They had been more than just strangers thrown together by fate—they had been close, bound by something deeper.

“Mary...” Sol’s voice broke, the flood of memories overwhelming him. Tears flowed even more freely as the weight of their past and the harsh reality of the present crushed him. The memories were hazy, fragmented, but the emotions were raw and real, cutting through the confusion like a knife.

Outside, the sound of running footsteps suddenly broke through the silence, dragging Sol back to the present. His heart pounded in his chest as he strained to listen. Mary, sensing the danger, tried to warn him. She moved her lips, mouthing something silently, but no sound escaped. Sol saw her lips move, but the words were lost on him. Was it "I love you"? "Be quiet"? He couldn't tell; the movements didn’t match any phrase he could recognize. He had no clue what she was trying to say.

The danger was real and close. The goblins were still in the area; he could hear their gruff voices, low and guttural, as they talked to each other just outside. Sol’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to peer through a crack in the wall. He saw two goblin archers, clad in rough leather armor and helmets, scanning the area.

Sol glanced back at Mary, his heart aching as he took in the sight of her lying in his lap, her body limp and lifeless. The realization that she was gone hit him with a force that nearly brought him to his knees. She was dead. The girl he had just met, the one he had shared a past with, was gone.

Sol's world shattered around him as Mary's body lay limp in his arms, her final breath stolen by the cruel hands of fate. The weight of her loss pressed down on him, suffocating and relentless. A torrent of emotions surged within him—grief, despair, anger, and a profound sense of helplessness.

His tears flowed freely, unchecked, as the overwhelming agony of her death consumed him. Sol’s mind raced, desperately trying to piece together the foggy scenes that connected them. But the more he tried to grasp those memories, the more they slipped away, leaving him with only the cold, cruel truth of her lifeless form in his arms. He had lost her before he even had the chance to fully remember her.

A low, guttural sound broke through his grief, pulling him back to the present with a jolt. The goblins were close—too close. Sol's breath caught in his throat as he glanced towards the crack in the wall. Through the dim light, he saw two goblin archers creeping through the ruins, their yellowed eyes scanning the area, their noses twitching as they sniffed the air. Their rough leather armor rustled as they moved, their weapons ready, searching for any sign of prey.

The sound of the goblins grew louder, their rough voices and clumsy footsteps growing nearer. Sol’s breath hitched, his body tense with the fear of impending danger. He strained to listen, trying to decipher the approaching threat over the pounding of his own heart.

Through a crack in the wall, he glimpsed the goblins' silhouettes, their movements deliberate and cautious as they circled the house. One of them, slightly ahead of the other, edged closer, his sharp eyes scanning the ruins with a predatory focus. The second goblin followed, his gaze fixed on the surrounding darkness, ensuring no one would escape unnoticed.

As the lead goblin entered the ruined house, his eyes locked onto the sight before him—a body lying in the debris. The shock of the discovery registered on his face, a grimace of hunger and curiosity. The goblin’s gaze lingered on Mary, her body sprawled on the cold stone floor, the blood pooling beneath her. There was no one lese in the room...