“You’re my escort?” I asked.

The Peacekeeper shook her head in the affirmative and turned away. She appeared to be scanning the perimeter, but she may have just been ignoring me. In front of her, the cavern floor slopped upwards into empty darkness.

I watched her silently, waiting for her to speak. She was sapphire colored, and her face and hands were covered in tiny scales. Each scale sparkled like azure opals that had been lightly dusted over smooth, cobalt skin. Her hair was short, her spiky blue tips only barley touching her ears.

She wore the same armor-plated jumpsuit as the rest of the peacekeepers, but both the suit and plates were solid black and bore no identifying marks. The armor was also much more minimalist and lightweight than that worn by Sebbit or Talith. On her back, the scout had slung a folded rifle, and she carried a collapsible baton on her belt.

She was beautiful, but in an abstract way that completely failed to inspire any physical attraction from me.

I was dressed similarly, but my suit was grey. It clung to me to tightly, embarrassingly tight, so I had opted to wear a pair of jeans and my grandfather’s jacket over the jumpsuit. I had considered foregoing the skintight suit altogether, but my spars with Talith had convinced me of its durability and protection.

I carried the collapsed staff from a loop on my belt. On my back, I hauled a large bag full of provisions and camping supplies. They were heavy and bulky, uncomfortable to carry even if the load was surprisingly light. I couldn’t help but notice the scout wasn’t carrying any of the supplies.

I also looked at her rifle with a bit of envy. I had begged Sebbit for one, but was only met with, ‘Natives are prohibited from possessing Hegemony technology of the third tier or above with… blah, blah.’ No gun for me.

“We’ll move fast,” the scout suddenly said. “We can reach the exit to the cave in less than… about forty-three minutes in your time.” She spoke in perfect English, slightly stilted but the pauses between words were nearly imperceptible. She was the first of her species I’d heard speak without the translator.

Her voice was strange, but not unpleasant. Less human, though why I expected different I’ll never know. Too much science fiction growing up. Her speech was deep and husky, each word had a slight echo that created a buzzing harmony. I suspected that her species have more than one set of vocal cords.

“After that,” she continued, “we’ll proceed to the river. The natives have set up a defensive barrier around the bridge. You won’t like what you find.”

“Why, what will I find?” I asked.

“Disappointment, beyond that I do not care.”

Ignoring her apathy, I asked, “How far to the river?”

“After we have exited the cave, we will proceed west for approximately two hours and thirteen minutes, at my pace.”

“Approximately?” I asked.

“Yes.”

And she was moving. Fast. I wouldn’t have been able to keep up without my recent increase to might. It was surprising how much physical strength affected speed. Even if my legs didn’t move faster, I was carried further with each stride.

The longer we ran, the greater my anticipation grew. Each step seemed to bring me that much closer to seeing my family again. A smile grew on my face as a thin streak of dust-spotted light cut through the gloomy cave. A few more minutes and I would see the sun for the first time in nearly two weeks.

I had struggled to keep up with the scout at first, but once I got into the rhythm it wasn’t too bad. Her speed was faster than a jog, but it wasn’t a full out sprint either. I suspected she could have quickly left me behind, but she was constantly stopping to scan the surroundings. She would slow down when we approached a turn or obstruction.

It wasn’t consistent, however, and occasionally she would simply walk by an obstruction almost exactly like one that had made her stop earlier. At one point, she spent almost a full minute watching a pile of boulders before we continued.

Shortly after she inspected a patch of harmless looking mushrooms, I saw the first traces of daylight. She stopped me once more. This time she peered upwards at towering stalactites that hung from the ceiling like thousands of waiting fangs.

Analyze, I thought.

These stalactites, often called Wailing Teeth, were formed over hundreds, or even thousands, of years as liquified mana trickling through cracks in the roof of the dungeon. Small, crystalized deposits are left behind forming the cone shape.

Danger: Mana Beetles often colonize these formations. These insects have nearly indestructible shells formed while consuming the crystallized mana in order create the tunnels that make up their colony. They are known to swarm and devour spelunkers who get to close.

Hundreds of years … how was that even possible?

I looked over at the scout, but she gave no indication that there was any danger. In fact, she looked almost bored. Her eyes never lost focus, however, until she raised her arm and began running. I huffed as I tried to keep up with her.

We had passed the final bend in the tunnel when warm, white light flooded the cavern. It chased away the darkness and lifted my mood. I blinked, pausing to let warm light wash over my face. It was more than just comforting. The light was an affirmation. I had finally made it; I was finally free of whatever monsters hid in the dark.

I had to get out of here. In my excitement, I began to run. For the first time, I pulled ahead of the scout, but she threw out her arm blocking my path.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Quiet,” she hissed.

The scout crouched down and waved with her hand, motioning me to do the same. With the other hand, she covered her lips with a single finger. It seemed a very human gesture. Perhaps the need to tell someone else to shut up was a universal constant.

I crouched down beside her and watched the cave entrance. I couldn’t see anything, but after a few moments, I began to hear a rhythmic thumping sound. It was low but getting louder. Something was moving towards the cave.

I could feel my heart racing. My hands began to shake from the adrenaline. When Big Momma Spider captured me, I was fighting for my life at every moment. The fact that I didn’t panic was a miracle. Waiting for the unknown, however, was somehow much more terrifying.

I froze, and my hands became sweaty. All I could feel or hear was my heart pumping, its rhythmic staccato drowning out all else. The beating of my heart seemed to come from outside of me as if the cave walls had come alive.

I yelled and dove to the ground as a cloud of mastiff sized bats came rushing into the tunnel. My reaction was slow and clumsy, and I might have been carried away had the scout not pushed me out of the way. She sent me tumbling headfirst into the cave wall, but other than my pride, I was unharmed.

“Thank you,” I said between gasps.

She just stood and continued running.

As we exited the cave I looked out over the landscape. We were at the top of a hill. Behind us loomed colossal granite cliffs that tore at the sky. Below us was a valley full of half crumbled buildings. I could see them peaking above the mist as if they were floating in the thick morning fog.

Somehow, the flat South Carolina landscape had been replaced with rolling hills lined with mist and ancient building. A tall mountain cast its shadow over valleys, where previously the tallest point had been a church steeple.

This was not my home. Some nightmare had risen in its place.

I stopped running, looking up at birds the size of sedans. Their plumage was bright, long orange crests ran down their necks and their wings were a shimmering pattern of blue and red.

They circled a forest of tall trees that blocked the horizon to the north and west. Thick green vines snaked through the undergrowth, constricting, and cutting into the ancient wood. Green berries and spade-shaped leaves grew along the lengths of the creepers.

Gone were the familiar animals. No squirrels scampered around the trees. No gulls cawed, or dogs barked. Nor did I see any humans. Thousands had once lived among these ruined houses. The world was now inhospitable to them.

It was a new world.

Still, I could see traces of the world I knew. As we continued into the mist, I recognized an old strip mall with a Sub Shop and an ice cream parlor. This is where I had my first date, I thought.

I had been here, I knew this place. Even if everything else was gone, this was still home. It was hidden, broken, but traces could still be found. I would have to collect the remnants and hope they could be re-forged.

I followed in silent contemplation. The scout slowly led us west, through the newly grown primordial forest. Above us was a canopy of green hundreds of feet high. I had never seen anything so awe-inspiring. It shamed the domes and stained-glass windows of the churches I had been dragged to as a child.

My guide would frequently stop, motioning me down with a single hand held out at chest height. I was never sure what prompted these stops, as they seemed to have no pattern. She would merely stop, look concerned for a few minutes, and then wave me forwards without ever saying a single word.

I tried to anticipate her, tried to guess what would cause my guide to call a halt. We had passed many places that I believed good ambush spots, such as empty gas stations, particularly dense clusters of trees, or rock formations. The scout passed them all by, without so much as a second look.

Even Analyze proved mostly useless, merely giving me the names of whatever creature or plant I looked at. Still, it was educational, and I managed to level the skill twice more.

Either the scout didn’t identify these spots as dangers, or she was somehow able to rule them out so quickly that we didn’t need to slow down. In fact, she seemed the most nervous when entering open spaces.

Our longest pause, by far, was upon entering an open field of blue grass. The meadow was long and narrow, with a thick growth of trees on one side and the collapsed ruin of an overpass on the other. Red and yellow flowers dotted small hilltops. A sweet, honey-like smell was carried on a gentle, cooling breeze that permeated the air.

The scout grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me down while signaling for me to be quiet by putting her entire hand over my mouth. I gasped, but she only held tighter. After making eye contact with me for a moment the blue scaled scout seemed satisfied I wouldn't freak out and let me go.

She pulled her rifle from the holster on her back with a practiced grace. The maneuver probably would have been impossible with human limbs. The long, slender arms of the female Peacekeeper had obvious advantages.

She swung the rifle up to her shoulder, the weapon unfolding and lengthening as it moved. It produced a click as she held the butt of the gun firmly against her shoulder. It was all done in one smooth motion, and I was drawn to the precision and grace of her movements.

Rather than pointing the gun forward, as I expected, the scout instead aimed straight up and began firing in short, four-round bursts. She fired eight bursts and an equal number of birds fell from the sky. I flinched and grabbed my head. My ears hurt, and I could hear nothing but muffled ringing.

In front of me, the birds piled atop the field. Each was as big as a poodle and had feathered backs and scaled, leathery wings. Wicked talons and long scimitar-like beaks made it obvious that these were birds of prey. Large muscular legs made them look as dangerous on the ground as they no doubt were in the air.

My analyze skill identified the avians as volcarians, an eldritch monster indigenous to dungeons and containment zones. I had expected them to be native Earth species mutated from exposure to eldritch energy. Where did they come from, if not from Earth?

Were the dungeons transported from other worlds? Did they still connect to them?

As soon as I lost myself in contemplating the meaning of this discovery, a thick vine burst from the ground at the center of the open field. It was massive, at least fifty feet long and thicker than a tree trunk.

The vine wrapped around one of the downed birds, and with a sickening crunch of bone, began drawing it inward. A mouth, a half-sphere of thorns rotating like a woodchipper, appeared from what had previously been disguised as a small hill. The bird was tossed into the gnashing maw and immediately turned to paste.

I pushed down the feeling of nausea and fear. I had to keep my eyes on the danger.

Several more vines grabbed the remaining birds and the creature ‘ate’ them as well. Afterward, the vines began to flail about. They smashed into the ground, sending up large clumps of dirt, and causing the earth to tremble.

It took about ten minutes before the flailing stopped and the creature retreated underground. Divots could be seen in the ground from the plant-monster’s flailing, but the field once more looked tranquil and inviting.

Had I not witnessed it, I never would have believed the carnage that had happened here only moments earlier. I would have believed the field as safe and peaceful as anywhere. Though, perhaps nowhere on Earth was safe anymore.

“It’s safe now,” the scout said.

She began to walk into the field. I reached out for her, but she was out of reach before I could react. Her feet seemed to glide over the blue blades of grass, her footsteps light, and silent.

“Woah, stop,” I yelled. “What are you doing, that thing could come back at any moment.”

“I told you,” she made eye contact as she spoke. Her eyes were purple behind slit pupils.

“It is safe.”

Once she was halfway through the field, not even bothering to go around the mound that had only minutes before been a razor-filled maw with three-foot spinning teeth, I began to follow. I gave the hills a wide berth.