The cavern pressed in with an oppressive stillness, the kind of silence that gnawed at the ears until the faint drip-drip of water became deafening. Every drop echoed through the hollow dark like the tick of a clock counting down to something inevitable. Amidst it all came another sound, wet, jagged, desperate, and the uneven breathing of the last man still clinging to life.
Devin sprawled across the cold stone floor, his body broken in more places than he could name. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, each breath scraping against bruised ribs like knives. His ears still rang with the screams of his fallen comrades, and his vision bled at the edges, shifting in and out of black haze. He told himself he was still alive, but the weight in his limbs argued otherwise.
And then, footsteps.
