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Time was a luxury I couldn't afford, but with a real, tangible link to another human being, I was damn well going to take the risk. The thought of someone else trapped in this hellhole pushed me forward. The more prepared I was, the better my odds–especially with whatever nightmares lurked deeper down.
I tightened the makeshift sling on my back, gathering up the bone-leather bundle that had become my survival kit. It was heavy, but the weight was oddly comforting—a reminder that I wasn't empty-handed against the horrors here. Glancing over the fresh monster corpses, I grimaced. Digging through their rotten guts to scavenge materials wasn't exactly my idea of fun, but necessity didn't give a damn about my comfort.
"Alright," I muttered, eyeing the mangled bodies. "Let's see what goodies you've got for me." The stench was overwhelming, but I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. Using my blade, I started slicing into the leathery hide, pulling it taut to keep it as intact as possible. The skin resisted, tough as old boots, but I gritted my teeth and kept at it. This hide was coarser and thicker than the others—maybe it'd offer more protection against whatever else wanted to tear me apart.
The real treasure, though, was the bone blades. I hefted a particularly large, jagged piece, sizing it up with a nod. "You'll do nicely," I said, testing its balance. With a bit of work, I could fashion it into a crude longsword. Not exactly a masterpiece, but beggars can't be choosers.
As I worked, I realized I was talking to myself—a habit I'd picked up in this damn silence. "Long enough for reach, heavy enough to bash some skulls..." I murmured, running my thumb along the edge. "Not bad for a DIY project." I fashioned a rough hilt out of sinew, tying it around a shorter bone to create a primitive guard. After a few adjustments, it felt solid in my grip.
"One down, one to go," I muttered, moving on to the next blade. The memory of the severed hand flashed in my mind, pushing me to work faster. Who the hell are you? The question gnawed at me, my hands moving on autopilot as I carved and bound the materials. The urgency was like an itch I couldn't scratch.
With both blades secured, I inspected my handiwork. They were crude, sure, but they'd hold. And right now, that was all that mattered. Better reach meant better chances of staying alive.
I gathered some leftover hide and started patching up my tattered clothing. "Fashionable," I snorted, glancing down at the ragged layers. But at least it'd add a bit more protection against stray claws and jagged rocks.
"Good enough," I said, tying the last piece around my shoulders. The patchwork armor wasn't going to win any style awards, but down here, function trumped fashion.
Adjusting the weight on my back, I secured the bone-leather bundle. Each scrap I added felt like another layer between me and the abyss.
"A poor man's armor," I smirked. "But it'll have to do."
Before setting out, I swung one of the new blades experimentally, testing its weight and balance. "Not too shabby," I admitted. These would do some real damage.
"Time to find your owner" I whispered, glancing at the severed hand resting nearby.
Fully prepared, I set the hand and ring before me, crossing my legs as I steadied my breath. My eyes traced the pale, lifeless skin, the delicate glint of the ring still clinging to the finger. Whoever you are, I'm coming for you. I'd made it this far—no way in hell was I stopping now.
Closing my eyes, I let Exira flow through me. Its energy pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat—a powerful, elusive force. Each inhale ignited a quiet blaze within; each exhale calmed the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind.
This wasn’t the first time I’d tried to seek out someone’s essence, but it was the first time I was doing it after the amnesia. Still, I let the Exira work, its threads weaving and whispering, searching for a match to the essence left behind in this small, cold hand.
Gradually, the dark cavern around me began to glow faintly as a lattice of threads took shape, each one alive with a soft, otherworldly shimmer. This was no ordinary sight; this was the realm of the Exira. Each thread represented something – a life, a trace of energy, a remnant of power all connected somehow to the world around me...
Focus...Lexi, I reminded myself, forcing myself to return my concentration to the hand. I couldn’t let myself get lost in the sheer scope of what I saw. This place was vast.
Exira revealed so much, yet all of it would only overwhelm me if I didn’t direct it toward my goal.
Taking a deep breath, I channeled all my focus on the hand. I reached out mentally, feeling the faint pulse of essence embedded in the ring and hand, seeking out any trace that would lead me to its owner. And then, gradually, I began to sense something, a thread, dim yet distinct, quivering softly as it responded to my focus.
My pulse quickened.
This was it.
I focused harder, narrowing my vision until all I could see was that single, faint thread. It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat, calling out to something far beyond this cavern.
A memory flashed–Mom's voice, gentle yet firm. "Let Exira guide your steps, Lexi. Don't force it; trust it." I exhaled, letting her words ground me. Slowly, the thread glowed brighter, steadying as if acknowledging our connection.
Opening my eyes, I rose to my feet, rolling my shoulders to shake off the stiffness. With the thread etched into my mind, I packed my gear, pocketed the ring, and spared one last glance around the cave.
"Time to move."
The narrow passage I followed was nothing but jagged rock and shadow, winding deeper and deeper, forcing me to stoop and sidestep sharp stones jutting from the walls. With each step, I felt that faint connection pulsing ahead, a beacon guiding me through the darkness.
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“One step closer,” I muttered, willing myself to stay focused. The thought that I might not be alone in this place pushed me onward with a strange mixture of dread and anticipation.
My journey through the passage continued in silence, my steps echoing faintly off the walls. The silence felt oppressive, each breath magnified in the confined space.
“An hour of walking through this place…,” I muttered, feeling a bit of the fatigue seeping into my bones. But I pressed on, my hand occasionally brushing the cold stone walls to steady myself.
Eventually, I found myself facing a dead-end, the pulsing thread of essence leading me straight to it. Confusion crept in. “This… can’t be right.”
I traced my fingers along the cold, unyielding wall, searching for any crack, any hidden passage. But there was nothing. Just stone.
Frustration welled up, mingling with doubt. I took a step back, staring at the wall, feeling that faint pulse still tugging at me, urging me forward.
Did I mess up something? Or maybe… I knelt down, pressing my palm against the wall and channeling Exira into my fingertips, letting it flow outward, searching for any hidden essence that might reveal an entrance, nothing just a wall.
Standing in front of the wall, I muttered to myself, “Maybe a hidden door… or maybe a sealed passage.”
For a moment, hope surged through me. But the longer I stared at the stone, the more it looked unbreakable, unyielding. I tried everything that came to mind, every trick I knew with Exira, channeling energy, attacking the wall with a quick, concentrated burst – but nothing made so much as a dent. With every failed attempt, the wall stayed stubbornly silent. My fists clenched, my frustration mounting as I felt the familiar pang of doubt creep in.
"Son of a bitch!" I cursed, slamming my fist against the stone. Pain shot up my arm, but I welcomed it—it was better than this maddening dead end.
"Alright, think," I told myself, taking a slow, controlled breath. This wasn't the first time something seemed impossible.
Closing my eyes, I let Exira flow within me, concentrating on directing it outward, allowing the familiar warmth to wash over my limbs as I visualized it. This time, I shifted my focus from brute force to something subtler, something that required patience. I needed to feel beyond the wall, to search for any indication of space, an opening, any detail that might reveal a way forward.
Gradually, I let Exira seep into the stone, my awareness following it. It was difficult, the stone was dense, cool, resistant – but I was beginning to feel something faint, a slight change in the energy on the other side.
"There's something…," I whispered, excitement creeping in. It wasn't directly ahead – it was higher up. I tilted my head, sensing the vertical distance. Not a door – a damn opening above me.
I stepped back, assessing the situation, letting Exira gradually expand out around me. It was like I’d created a small bubble of awareness, almost as if I were seeing the cave with a new sense beyond sight and sound. With Exira, I could feel everything around me in great detail, the subtle shifts in the stone, the minute air currents, even the faintest vibrations. My sphere of perception extended upward, feeling my way around the rocky walls, and finally found the spot that confirmed it.
But now comes the hard part.
I glanced at the wall, calculating the distance to the opening. It was easily seven or eight meters up – a distance that, without some serious creativity, was impossible to reach. My hand instinctively went to the bone knives I’d salvaged earlier. I studied them, noting their weight, the sharpness of their edges, and the odd comfort they provided.
Channeling Exira into the blades, I focused on stabilizing their structure, feeling the power settle into their edges, solidifying them. I needed to be careful with the energy, too much and the blade would shatter on impact; too little and I’d be left climbing barehanded. Testing my weight, I dug one blade into the wall, the bone sinking in just enough to hold firm.
“Not bad,” I murmured, giving it a testing tug. With a second blade, I carved out another hold a few inches higher and grinned despite myself.
This would be my makeshift staircase. Not exactly elegant, but functional.
"Up we go."
I started the ascent, my fingers gripping the bone handles tightly as I climbed one step at a time, each stab of the blade met with resistance from the dense rock. My heart raced, the height growing with every foothold I created. Despite the chill of the cave, sweat beaded on my forehead, and I clenched my jaw, refusing to let myself look down. The rhythmic pattern – stab, step, reach – became almost meditative, each move forcing me to focus entirely on the task at hand
"Don't you dare slip," I warned myself, teeth gritted. The rhythmic pattern—stab, step, reach—became a mantra, blocking out the screaming protest of my muscles.
Mom's voice echoed in my mind again. "Patience and control, Lexi. That's where true strength lies." I snorted.
Halfway up, the muscles in my arms started to burn, the effort of holding myself against the wall and stabbing new footholds taking its toll. I took a deep breath, shifting my weight carefully as I made my next move. The weight of the bundle slung across my back shifted uncomfortably, but I ignored the distraction, determined to reach the top.
After what felt like an eternity, I reached the edge. With a final heave, I pulled myself up and collapsed onto the cool stone floor, gasping for breath.
"Made it," I panted, a weak laugh escaping me. "Hell of a workout."
As the adrenaline started to fade, I sat up, taking in my new surroundings with a measured breath. The opening was narrow, barely enough to stand. I took a step forward, crouching as the ceiling lowered, eventually forcing me to my knees. The stone pressed in from all sides, scraping against my shoulders as I crawled forward, the rough, cold surface pressing against my palms. The air was thick and stale, damp with an earthy smell that reminded me just how far below the surface I was.
"Almost there," I whispered, crawling through the tight space. My body ached, every muscle protesting. But a faint light ahead spurred me on.
At last, the tunnel ended. I eased myself toward the edge, peering out into what lay beyond. Below, a larger cavern spread out, shrouded in shadow. My eyes adjusted, picking out details as I squinted into the darkness. Stone pillars lined the cavern walls, jagged and sharp as if formed in a rush of molten rock long ago. But what drew my attention most was what lay directly across from me.
Or rather, who?
Taking a slow breath, I slipped down from the ledge, dropping a short distance and landing with a soft thud. I straightened, dusting off my hands, but my gaze remained fixed on the figure slumped against the wall across the cavern.
At first, it was only a vague outline – a still form, almost part of the rock itself, but as I drew closer, details became painfully clear. The owner of the missing hand slumped against the wall, a pool of dark blood pooling beneath him, congealing on the rough stone floor. I felt a deep sense of dread settle in my stomach as I sighed, kneeling closer to check for a pulse.
what….
But just as I reached out, I froze in shock, my breath hitching in my throat. Long, pointy ears protruded from beneath the matted hair, a distinct feature that marked him as something other than human. My heart raced as I processed the implications.
Shit
An elf…I don’t have memories of elves being on Earth…
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