The cavern mouth loomed ahead, jagged like the maw of some vast stone beast. Caleb stumbled toward it, lungs burning, every muscle screaming in revolt. Behind him, the Cragfangs shrieked and snarled, their claws raking sparks from the ridge as they poured after the two men.
"Inside! Now!" Gorrin bellowed, his voice cutting through the thunder of paws and claws.
Caleb dove through the opening, his shoulder smashing against the rough stone. Gorrin followed in a controlled slide, blade flashing as he slashed at the nearest beast that tried to force its way through. The Cragfang shrieked and fell backward, tripping its kin for a heartbeat.
It was enough.
The chamber beyond was wide enough to fight, though not so open that the beasts could swarm in at once. Ore veins glowed faintly along the walls, washing the space in sickly amber light. The air smelled of dust, sweat, and blood.
Caleb braced himself against the stone, dragging Riftenergy into his limbs until his veins burned with it. His hands shook—not from fear, but from the strain of shaping again and again without rest. He lifted his head, met Gorrin's eyes, and nodded.
They would hold here.
The first Cragfang lunged through the entrance. Gorrin met it with a roar, his Riftbone blade carving through flesh and bone in one brutal swing. Caleb was already moving, shaping spikes into the floor that skewered another beast as it tried to scramble in. The monster shrieked, thrashing, and Caleb kicked it aside before reshaping the spikes into jagged shards that flung outward like shrapnel.
Blood sprayed the walls. More monsters howled and shoved against the entrance, their eyes blazing with hunger.
"Block the sides!" Gorrin shouted, kicking a corpse aside to clear his footing. "Force them into a choke!"
Caleb slammed his palms against the rock. Riftenergy surged, wild and unstable, but he willed it into the walls—solidifying them, narrowing the gap. The opening constricted into a jagged throat, funneling the Cragfangs two at a time. It was all they needed.
The beasts came in waves. Gorrin stood like a wall of iron, his blade cleaving arcs of silver death. Every swing dropped another monster, his movements efficient and merciless. Caleb backed him, shaping spears, spikes, and sudden walls to trip and impale their enemies. His breath came ragged, but his focus sharpened with every kill.
One Cragfang slipped through, leaping high to avoid Gorrin's blade. Its claws raked toward Caleb's throat. Caleb thrust his hand upward, shaping a short, brutal spike that erupted from his palm straight into the creature's chest. The impact knocked him flat, ichor drenching him as the beast twitched and went still. He shoved it aside, panting, eyes burning with determination.
"On your feet, boy!" Gorrin growled, already turning to split another Cragfang in two.
Caleb staggered up, blood and sweat mixing on his skin. His legs trembled but didn't fail him. He shaped again, hurling a jagged spear that pinned a Cragfang to the stone, leaving it writhing before Gorrin finished it with a stomp that cracked bone.
The pile of bodies grew. The chamber floor turned slick with gore, the stench choking the air. Still the pack came, their hunger relentless, their snarls echoing in Caleb's skull.
But slowly, the rhythm of the fight shifted. The waves grew smaller, their charges less coordinated. Caleb felt it in his bones—the pack was breaking.
"Hold, Caleb," Gorrin grunted, his chest heaving, blade dripping black blood. "They're tiring."
Caleb's own arms ached so badly he could barely lift them, but he forced himself to focus, shaping one last wall of jagged spears across the entrance. The remaining Cragfangs hurled themselves against it in blind frenzy, impaling themselves again and again until their screeches filled the chamber.
At last, silence fell.
Caleb leaned heavily against the wall, sliding down until he sat in the gore, his chest heaving. His vision blurred, every nerve buzzing with fatigue. His hands were cut and blistered from the strain of shaping, but he didn't care.
They were alive.
Gorrin stood among the corpses, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. He planted his blade into the ground and leaned on it, sweat streaking his scarred face. His eyes scanned the piles of dead beasts, and at last he let out a low growl of satisfaction.
"That's the end of them." He spat, then turned his gaze to Caleb. "You did well, boy. Better than I expected."
Caleb managed a hoarse laugh, though it hurt his throat. "I'd say… I barely survived."
Gorrin snorted. "Barely's enough. Barely means you're still breathing."
Caleb tilted his head back against the stone, closing his eyes for a moment. His body screamed for rest, but somewhere inside, a spark of pride glimmered. He had stood his ground. He had fought beside Gorrin against death itself—and lived.
The silence of the chamber pressed in, broken only by the steady drip of water and the fading echo of the last Cragfang's death cry.
For the first time since entering the Riftgate, Caleb let himself believe—just a little—that survival was possible.