The wandering had gone on so long that every step became a struggle.
"How long have I been walking? Hours? Days? Everything looks the same… or am I just losing my mind?" Thoughts chased each other in Finn's head as he stumbled over stones he once would have easily noticed. The tulwar, held low to the ground, cast its dim light ahead, picking out the unevenness of the floor from the darkness.
Endless passages blurred together into one unbroken labyrinth.
"Focus… I have to focus… but I'm so tired. Which turn is this? The hundredth? The thousandth?"
Each new corridor seemed familiar, as if he had been walking in circles all along.
When another chamber of shimmering crystals opened before him, his heart skipped a beat.
"No, no, that's impossible… I was here… How many hours ago? Where did I go wrong? At that fork? Or earlier?"
Their pale glow seemed to mock him, confirming the dreadful truth—he had come back to where he had started.
His legs gave out, and Finn sank heavily against the wall.
"I can't… I just can't… Just a little rest… just a couple of minutes…"
The tulwar, still warm, glowed reassuringly in his hands. He pressed it to his chest, fingers curled around the blade—the metal's warmth the only comfort in the cold darkness.
Exhaustion washed over him in waves, clouding his mind.
"Can't sleep… dangerous here… but so tired…"
Somewhere deep inside, a warning urged him to find a safer place, but his body refused to obey.
The last thing he remembered was trying to focus on the cave's sounds.
"One… two… count the drops… three… don't fall asleep…"
But the numbers tangled and dissolved into the haze of approaching slumber. The tulwar's steady glow lulled him, its warmth promising a brief reprieve.
Consciousness drifted away into the dark.
"Maybe when I wake, I'll remember something… Who am I? Where did I come from? Why am I here?"
Those questions had haunted him since the moment he awoke in the caves, but now they seemed distant, unreal.
The sounds of the cave—water dripping, stones shifting, distant echoes—merged into a strange lullaby.
"When was the last time I heard real music? Did it exist in my life before the cave? Why do I remember what music is, but nothing about myself?"
Finn clutched the tulwar tighter, feeling sleep wash over him like slow, heavy tides.
"Please… no nightmares… not the river creatures… How many were there? Why didn't they follow me?"
But even the fear of nightmares could not fight the pull of utter exhaustion.
In the final moments before sleep claimed him, a thought flickered in his mind:
"I wonder if anyone has been looking for me… if there's anyone to look… if anyone remembers me, up there…"
But the thought faded into the dark with the rest.
"Just a few minutes… I'll only close my eyes for a minute… just a short rest…"
With those fading words, he surrendered to sleep, clutching the warm blade.
Consciousness returned suddenly, as if something had yanked him out of the void.
"How long was I out? Why am I so thirsty?"
He woke drenched in cold sweat, his mouth parched. Something uneasy stirred at the edge of memory—fragments of a dream already slipping away.
Gathering what little strength remained, he rose slowly to his feet.
"There was a water source nearby… I remember hearing it…"
His body ached from the awkward sleeping position, but thirst drove him forward. The tulwar shone with its steady light, revealing the familiar contours of the tunnel.
Each step was an effort, but memory guided him toward the water.
"Quiet… have to stay quiet… who knows what else prowls here…"
He moved cautiously, mindful of the creatures that haunted these caves. The sword's glow slid over the stone walls, searching for any hint of danger.
The sound of dripping water grew clearer. Finn crept forward, listening to every scrape and whisper in the darkness. A small spring, seeping from a crack in the wall, now seemed like the greatest treasure in the world.
After drinking his fill, he sank back against the wall, trying to gather his thoughts. "The ears are starting to rot…" His hand reached instinctively for the pack, where the sack of severed monster ears was kept. The sickening smell confirmed his fears.
His thoughts turned, unwillingly, back to the underground river.
"There was a current… if I follow the current, I can't get lost… right?"
The memory of the hunched creature with its impossibly wide jaws made him shudder. But there was no real choice—either risk the river or wander these tunnels until nothing was left of him.
The decision came hard.
"Have to be careful… check every step…"
He knew the risk was enormous, but there were no other options.
Bracing himself, Finn tested the tulwar—the blade answered with familiar warmth. One last sip of water, and it was time to move.
"The river was that way… I remember this bend…"
Memory nudged him onward, though each step toward that sound made his heart beat faster.
The roar of water grew louder, echoing ominously in his ears. Finn pressed himself against the wall, trying to melt into the stone. The tulwar's light dimmed, as if understanding the need for stealth.
Then the glow betrayed him—illuminating a hunched figure just beyond the turn.
"No… no… not this…"
The creature stood motionless, its head bowed so low its massive hump nearly brushed the ceiling. Nausea rose in Finn's throat at the sight of it.
He froze, unable to move—every muscle locked by terror. The yellowish glow of the sword caught the creature's attention, and it lifted its head with unnatural, jerking movements. Bulging eyes, like two cloudy orbs, fixed on him. Long, needle-like nails scraped the stone, making a sound that made his hair stand on end.
"Why didn't I check… why…"
Cold sweat trickled down his back as he noticed the dried blue blood on its almost bald skull, where only a few greasy strands of hair hung like wet seaweed.
Time itself seemed to stop—boy and monster staring at each other, separated by only a few meters. Finn felt his knees tremble, sweat stinging his eyes, heart pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the cave. The creature was terrifyingly still, its chest rising and falling beneath the scab-covered grey skin.
Then it screamed.
The sound filled the cavern—piercing, vibrating, a mix of howling and grinding metal. Finn clamped his hands over his ears, but it didn't help; the scream drilled straight into his mind. In the distant corridors, answering cries began to echo, and the realization that there were many of them brought a fresh wave of nausea.
The monster's jaws opened impossibly wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth stained with the same blue blood. Its neck stretched like a serpent's, claws raking the stone with renewed fury, throwing sparks into the air. In its eyes, Finn saw something that froze him completely—awareness. This was no mere beast; it was intelligent, in a way alien and horrifying.
"Run… I have to run…"
But his body refused to obey, locked in place by primal fear. The chorus of screams grew louder, closer. Finn knew there was little time left before the others arrived. His heart hammered so violently it seemed to shake the air, and his mouth was so dry it felt like sandpaper.