It was raining — a rare thing in the Abyss.
The drops weren't cold. They were thick, sticky, and carried a faint metallic scent. Rey stood under the wide leaves of a twisted tree, watching the gray sky as droplets slid down his arms, smearing the dried mud on his skin.
His underground shelter lay a few meters behind him — hidden beneath a false floor of stone and bark. It wasn't large, but it had saved his life more than once.
He listened carefully.
The jungle was too quiet.
No insect chittering. No distant howls. Just rain and silence.
Then he heard it — a crunch.
Something stepped on bone.
Rey's eyes widened, and he instantly dropped to the ground, crawling into a patch of thick moss. Slowly, he reached for a sharpened bone dagger at his hip. His breathing slowed to a near halt.
Through the gaps in the undergrowth, he saw it.
A pack of wolf-like monsters.
But these were not the same ones that had chased him weeks ago. These were larger, leaner, and their bodies were shrouded in mist, as if smoke leaked from their flesh. Their eyes glowed faint blue, and they moved without sound.
"New species…" Rey whispered to himself.
They were hunters — advanced ones. Their noses sniffed the air, twitching toward the faint scent of human blood that lingered from an old wound on his leg. He cursed silently. He had cleaned it, bandaged it with moss and resin, but it wasn't enough.
The alpha paused — a massive one with a jagged scar across its snout. It let out a low growl, and the entire pack halted.
Rey's fingers trembled slightly.
He knew he couldn't outrun them. Not in this terrain. Not in the rain.
But he had one option left.
He waited until the pack stepped forward, nearing his hidden shelter. Then, with gritted teeth, he leaped from the bushes, shouting and throwing a flaming torch he had prepared earlier.
The torch hit the muddy grass and burst into flame, lighting the oily rain and igniting a controlled fire line.
The wolves shrieked in surprise. The flame wasn't strong enough to burn them, but it distracted them — gave Rey a split second.
He rolled down a slope and into a hidden pit — one he had dug days ago and covered in vines. He held his breath as he lay perfectly still.
The pack sniffed around the edge. The alpha growled again, but then, slowly, they retreated. Fire and rain had confused their senses, and Rey had disappeared like smoke.
When the silence returned, he exhaled.
---
Hours passed.
Rey returned to his shelter, soaked, scratched, and starving.
He sat against the wall, fire flickering weakly, and stared at his shaking hands.
His heart still pounded.
"How long… can I keep living like this?" he muttered.
And then, his thoughts wandered home.
His sister's laughter.
His mother humming in the kitchen.
His father's quiet advice, always in the background.
Tears welled in his eyes, but he wiped them away with dirt-stained fingers.
"I'm not allowed to break down," he whispered. "Not here. Not yet."
The Abyss wouldn't allow weakness. But it did teach clarity.
And Rey had finally accepted the truth.
This place wouldn't let him live — unless he took the right to survive.
He would need more than tools. He needed understanding. Strategy.
So he picked up a bone fragment and began drawing on the wall: creatures he'd seen, their behaviors, patterns, weaknesses. Everything he'd learned. His journal, written in symbols and scars.
He would not die here.
Not before finding the path down.
Not before finding a way home.
---