Dread hung in the air
Hope had come and gone.
Disaster strikes, but it's the aftermath that should be monitored.
No matter the loss.
We had a dungeon to complete.
It wouldn't change, wouldn't lighten our load out of pity for our loss.
Actually, it was the contrary.
Without a main tank our clears became sloppy.
Off-tanking embarks a heavier load on the party.
Healers must concentrate to keep the uptimes on their heals nearly perfect.
When before, spells could overlap.
Seconds of cooldowns could be wasted.
Now, each cooldown, each second, each fragment of health mattered.
Along Curie's face, fatigue and mental strain painted a picture of dismay.
Wilder and I were also needed to up the dps from lack of a bruiser.
While also needing to keep our evasions and dodge chances high enough to not take needless damage, knowing that heals would not be directed our way.
Health potions, which we had only brought a scant few, were quickly depleting.
Mana potions were funneled into our healer.
Her face growing cold and veins bulging with a remedy that isn't all positive.
I feared the aftermath.
Whoever leaves this dungeon would either rise to the cause, or fall to its weight.
Adventuring can always go one of two ways.
We were experiencing the other way.
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The one that is never discussed but lies in the back of minds.
The whisper of darkness and evil.
Of what could go wrong...
Of what could go terribly wrong.
Fatigue began to set in.
Talk was to a minimum.
Everyone was too busy in their own heads.
Battling the true monsters.
Battling themselves.
Did they have the will to go on?
All I could do was lead a party that took orders as if I was on another plain.
Far away like an echo.
Hoping to reach their hearts.
But always falling short.
Their eyes wide and seeking.
Gritting my teeth.
I hoped the other Halls were fine.
Not like our own.
Not skewed and tainted with corrupted power that punishes.
Deep within my soul I prayed that Muller and Shelly could rise to the occasion.
Calming my mind.
Settling my heart.
I steeled myself.
A heavy cooldown.
For a heavy atmosphere.
After some time we had filled our inventories out. Everyone reached near carrying capacity.
Our job was almost done.
Finally...
Down a long corridor we were led to a stone bridge that suspended over a cataclysmic drop.
Below oblivion lay.
Don't look down and brace for wind…
I muttered as we began our walk across.
Letting them walk before me.
I watched the back.
Eyes focused, burning mana, monitoring for any sudden movement.
Brutus, the man that rose to the occasion. Who proved himself a man worthy. Walked across.
Wilder. The once playboy, laughingstock of our guild, was quiet and calm in a way that surprisingly suited him. His face serene. He too- walked across.
Curies eyes were not facing forward
They were staring down.
Her soul shattered.
Don't!
Fuck!
No!
She turned and smiled meekly.
Mouthing a sorry that hung in the air.
One that carried a weight and trauma in which a single word shouldn't be able to articulate.
To capture her essence in one sentence.
To give her soul to a single solemn note.
My heart and soul shivered.
My hand reached out.
My feet became wind.
Then
She fell.