Time dissolved into the monotonous murmur of water. Finn trudged along the current, moving mechanically, no longer paying attention to the pain in his muscles. Each step blended with the last, forming an endless chain of motion. The cave walls, lit by the dim glow of the tulwar, all looked the same—jagged ridges, familiar cracks, damp streaks glistening in the dark.
How much time has passed? — the question surfaced now and then in his clouded mind.
Hours or minutes—it no longer mattered. In the underground gloom, the difference had vanished. The sounds never changed: the steady flow of water, the echo of his own footsteps, the occasional drip from the ceiling. Nothing confirmed that he was truly moving forward. It felt as though the cave existed outside of time and space.
Maybe I'm walking in circles? — the thought came to him for the first time when he noticed a familiar outcrop in the stone.
Finn stopped, peering into the rough surface. Hadn't he seen that same bend… an hour ago? Or two? How long had he been walking? Memory refused to give clear answers, offering only blurred fragments of endless stone corridors.
No, that's impossible… He shook his head, trying to chase away the intrusive thought.
The river flowed in one direction—his only reliable guide. It could not flow in circles, so he could not be going in circles. Yet the longer Finn walked, the stronger the sense grew that something was wrong. The walls seemed to repeat themselves, creating the illusion of motion while he remained in place.
I should have reached somewhere by now… — unease crept into his chest.
Exhaustion dulled his senses, making him doubt the reality of what was happening. Maybe this was all a dream? Maybe he was still unconscious, lying among the corpses of the monsters? Finn reached out, touching the cold stone. No—the sensation was too real for a dream.
Step after step, meter after meter—movement became automatic, no longer needing conscious effort. His body walked on its own while his mind wandered through mazes of anxious thought. The tulwar in his hand grew heavier, its light dimmer.
What if there's no way out? — the thought struck suddenly, making him stumble.
Finn froze, leaning against the damp wall. What if these tunnels were endless? What if he was doomed to wander here until his strength ran out? Panic stirred, coiling icy fingers around his throat.
No, no, no… He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the rising fear.
The water kept flowing, indifferent to his suffering. Its murmur now felt like mockery—it knew the way out but refused to share it. Finn opened his eyes, staring into the darkness ahead. The tulwar's faint glow revealed the same details as always: wet stones, uneven ground, the endless tunnel.
Maybe I should turn back? — doubt gnawed at him.
But the thought of going back was no less terrifying. Behind him lay the corpses of monsters and the memory of that mad battle. What if others had already found the place? What if they were waiting for him? No—there was no path back.
Finn forced himself to move on, though every step grew heavier. His pack of trophies dragged at his shoulders, pulling him backward, urging him to return to the battlefield. But he pressed forward stubbornly, refusing to give in.
There has to be an exit… there has to be… — the words became his mantra.
Time thickened, wrapping his mind like tar. He no longer tried to count steps or note the changes in the walls. Everything merged into one endless moment: step, another step, water's murmur, dim light, wet stone.
Am I going insane? — sometimes the thought slipped through the fog of fatigue.
Reality blurred at the edges. Shadows seemed to move in his periphery, whispers rose beneath the noise of the stream. But when he looked closer, the visions vanished, leaving behind only a sour unease.
The tunnel walls seemed to close in on him, a tightening trap. Every turn looked identical to the last, every protrusion oddly familiar. Finn began to notice details he swore he had already seen.
The same crack? He stopped, studying a jagged fissure in the rock.
A lightning-shaped scar ran from floor to ceiling. He could have sworn he had seen one just like it… hours ago? Minutes? Or was it imagination? Exhaustion blurred thought, turning simple observations into tormenting riddles.
Am I really moving forward? Doubt grew heavier with every step.
The river was his only constant, but even it now felt suspicious. Could it too be part of some monstrous trick? Could these caverns be playing with him, making him wander in endless loops?
Finn wiped sweat from his brow. His skin burned as if with fever. Were his wounds festering? Or was it just exhaustion? Thoughts scattered, refusing to form a coherent picture.
I just need to keep walking… He tried to focus.
But each step only deepened the futility of his journey. The tunnel was endless, the walls the same, time frozen. He felt himself slowly losing touch with reality.
The murmur of the water became a hypnotic chant, lulling his mind deeper. Maybe this is how madness begins? Step by step, losing the line between reality and nightmare…
I'll find a way out… I must… But even those words rang hollow now.
The tulwar's glow weakened, mirroring its owner's fading hope. Finn pressed on, though every step grew heavier, as though the cavern itself resisted him.
Time had lost all meaning in this endless wandering. Minutes stretched into hours, hours collapsed into seconds. Only the river remained unchanged—but even it now felt like a part of the trap.
Maybe I'm dead already? The thought carried no fear, only a tired curiosity.
Maybe this was the afterlife—endless wandering through underground tunnels. Finn almost smiled at the idea. It seemed as real as anything else here.
The walls slid past, indistinguishable from one another. Time flowed—or stood still—who could tell? And Finn kept walking, because to stop would be to surrender, to accept this place's power over him.
I'll get out… — but even he no longer believed the words.
Exhaustion crushed him, turning every step into trial. He no longer held his back straight; his shoulders sagged beneath the pack, his head drooped, eyes fixed on the stone floor. His movements slowed, thickened, as though time itself congealed around him.
Just a little further… just a little more… — but the words no longer gave strength.
His mind clouded. Reality flickered like smoke. Sometimes he found himself walking with his eyes closed—his body moving by itself while his thoughts drifted into brief lapses of sleep. The micro-dreams grew longer, deeper.
What am I doing? Where am I going? His thoughts tangled, drowned in fog.
He stumbled more often, struggling each time to keep balance. His legs felt like lead, refusing to obey. The tulwar was unbearably heavy now, its light reduced to a fragile shimmer.
I need… to stop… — but fear drove him onward.
He no longer knew how much time had passed. Hours? Days? In this realm of endless dark, time meant nothing. Only the water's song remained—hypnotic, lulling.
Another wave of sleep hit mid-step. His eyes closed, his body lurched forward, still walking like a sleepwalker—unsteady, swaying, unconscious.
Where am I? Faint sparks of awareness slipped through the haze.
Reality and dream wove together—visions of sunny meadows, vast emptiness, shifting with every blink. And every return to the cave grew more painful.
His legs dragged, bogged down by invisible weight. Every step demanded agony, every movement sent pain through his body. He no longer fought sleep, simply let his body move on its own.
Maybe this is the end? The thought drifted through the haze.
Then, suddenly, the river changed. The once-gentle current roared, its murmur swelling into thunder.
What's happening? His mind tried to break through the fog.
Too late. His foot slipped on wet stone. Balance gone, his body pitched forward. Time slowed, stretching the fall into eternity.
Icy water slammed into him, tearing the air from his lungs. The current seized him like a toy, dragging him forward with merciless force. Finn tried to fight, but his broken body refused to obey.
No… not like this… Panic finally broke through the numbness.
The river spun him, hurled him against rocks, sucked him into whirlpools. Water filled his mouth and nose, choking him. The pack dragged him down, turning from burden to death sentence. The tulwar slipped from his fingers, its last light swallowed by darkness.
He struggled to surface, but the current only grew stronger. His body slammed into stone, cold pierced to the bone, his muscles spasmed. His lungs burned.
Air… I need air… The thought pulsed in the fading light of his mind.
A bend in the river hurled him against a jagged boulder. The impact crushed the breath from him, forcing out what little air remained. Darkness crept closer, shrinking his world to a single flickering point.
The current seized him again, dragging him deeper. He no longer resisted—his strength was gone. Consciousness flickered like a dying candle, ready to be snuffed out. His body numbed from cold, his movements slowed to weakness.
This is the end… The thought was strangely calm.
The river roared, no longer a companion but a merciless executioner. Ahead, the sound grew even louder—like water plunging from a height. A waterfall? Rapids? He could no longer care.
The last thing he felt was the pull of the current, tugging him into the unknown. And then—darkness.