Darkness parted, giving way to a familiar sight—the same cave, the same moment. The hunched creature loomed before him, its maw opening slowly, like that of a giant snake. Finn remembered this scene—this was where he had claimed his first real victory. But something was wrong.
Why am I here? The thought pulsed in his skull as his body grew heavy, leaden.
The monster moved differently—faster, more confident. The tulwar in his hand felt impossibly heavy, its light nearly extinguished. Finn tried to assume a fighting stance, but his muscles refused to obey. A fear he hadn't felt the first time seized him in an icy wave.
I can't… not this time… The realization came with crushing terror.
The creature lunged—far quicker than before. Finn staggered back, losing his balance, then bolted. A roar erupted behind him, echoing off the cavern walls. And then the true nightmare began.
They're coming… all of them… Panic gave him strength.
Hundreds of beasts materialized from nowhere. They scrambled over the corpses of their fallen, snarling, claws raking against stone. Finn sprinted along the river, driven only by primal fear and the instinct to survive.
Faster… faster… His lungs burned as if on fire.
The horde pursued like a single organism—a massive wave of claws, fangs, and gray flesh. They vaulted over obstacles, scaled the walls, plunged into the river—yet never stopped, not even for a heartbeat.
A shock of icy water struck his face, wrenching him from the nightmare. Finn choked, coughing up what felt like an ocean lodged inside him. His stomach knotted in painful spasms, his lungs aflame. He rolled onto his side, still hacking up water.
Alive… I'm alive… The thought broke through pain and exhaustion.
Somewhere nearby thundered a waterfall—the same one that had hurled him down with its current. Slowly, Finn pushed himself onto trembling arms and looked around. He was lying on a stony shore, carried there by the river. He had escaped… truly escaped.
Why don't I feel… anything? Inside, there was nothing.
No joy at survival, no relief, not even fear. Only all-consuming fatigue and a dull, numb emptiness. His body screamed for food and rest, but his mind refused to function. Every feeling was muffled, smothered in thick layers of cotton.
Backpack… where's my backpack? The thought surfaced suddenly.
With clumsy movements, Finn pulled the soaked pack from his back. The trophies—that was what mattered. That was what proved he was the victor, not the victim. His shaking fingers untied the bag of severed ears. Oddly, they no longer filled him with disgust.
Food… it's food… Hunger twisted his gut.
The thought of raw flesh should have repelled him, but… he had killed them. He had triumphed. It was his right—the right of the victor. Finn lifted one of the ears to his lips, hesitated for only a heartbeat… then sank his teeth into the flesh. The taste was strange, but not unbearable.
I live… they don't… Each bite affirmed the simple truth.
Something glimmered in the river—a faint golden light. The tulwar! The blade lay in the shallows, still emitting its dim glow. Finn froze, hardly daring to believe his eyes. Could even this have been returned to him?
Slowly, forcing his battered body forward, he rose to his feet. The world swayed, threatening to throw him back into the water, but he steadied himself. Step by step, his legs trembling, knees buckling, he pushed toward the lure of the fading light.
I have to reach it… The thought lent him strength.
The cold water stung his torn legs as he waded in. The current was weak here, yet still tugged at him, threatening to sweep him away again. Cautiously he felt each step, terrified of losing his footing.
Don't fall… His hand reached for the blade.
His fingers closed around the familiar hilt, and something within him stirred. The tulwar was more than a weapon—it had become part of him, a faithful companion in this nightmare journey. Its warmth, its glow, had given him hope in the darkest moments.
You came back… Finn tightened his grip.
Dragging himself back onto shore, he finally looked around in earnest. But why was the sword the only thing illuminating his surroundings? Where were the cave walls? The stone ceiling? A creeping dread crawled down his spine as he lifted his gaze upward.
The sky… The word struck his mind like a bell.
An endless black vault stretched above him, littered with countless stars. The Milky Way sprawled like a silver ribbon, and a full moon bathed everything in ghostly light. Finn stood frozen, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight.
Is this real? Doubt gnawed at him.
Perhaps it was only another dream? Or maybe he had died, and this was some afterworld? But the pain in his battered body was sharp, raw, alive. No, he was still living. He was… outside.
I really made it out… The realization slowly settled into his weary mind.
Yet joy never came—only exhaustion and a strange, hollow sense of being lost. He stood in an unfamiliar land, alone in the silence of the night. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Only himself, his blade, and a sack of grisly trophies.
I need to keep moving… The decision came on its own.
He checked his pack—soaked, but intact. The ear-bag was still tied. The tulwar slid back into his hand. All that remained was to choose a direction. He turned to the waterfall, following its flow with his eyes.
So massive… The mountain from which the river spilled climbed skyward, its peak hidden among clouds.
Going back was unthinkable—too many horrors lurked behind. Finn turned the other way, toward the gentler slopes. The unknown was terrifying, but staying still was worse.
Just keep walking… He took his first step.
Moonlight guided him, casting rocks and sparse shrubs into strange, warped shadows. Every step was an effort, but Finn pressed on stubbornly. He didn't know where the path led—only that he was leaving something behind.
As long as it's away from the mountain… The thought lent him strength.
The night air was shockingly fresh after the stifling stench of the underworld. It filled his lungs, driving out the remnants of that subterranean haze. Above, the stars shimmered, reminding him that the world was far greater than tunnels and the smell of death.
Where am I going? The question throbbed in his mind.
But no answer came—only the necessity of moving forward, the need to get as far from that nightmare as possible. Finn limped and stumbled, but never stopped. Each step pulled him farther from the cavern's terror.
The tulwar's glow brightened, as if it too rejoiced in freedom. Its light mingled with the moon's, cloaking Finn in an eerie radiance. In that glow, his wounds looked less severe, his fatigue less crushing.
Maybe there's something ahead… Hope flickered faintly.
Surely there had to be others—villages, towns? He couldn't be completely alone in a world this vast. The thought pushed him onward, forced his legs to move when every muscle begged for rest.
Night drifted overhead, stars wheeling through their eternal dance. And Finn trudged on, leaving the mountain behind, carrying with him his strange trophies. The unknown stretched ahead, but it no longer seemed so terrifying.
Time stretched, lost all meaning. Finn walked almost without pause, driven by one thought: to put as much distance between himself and the mountain as possible. Day bled into night, night into dawn, but he scarcely noticed. Weariness had become his constant companion, as familiar as the weight of the pack on his back.
The trees had surrounded him since the moment he awoke at the waterfall—silent guardians of his path. He trudged forward, moving mechanically, without thought to direction. His body walked on its own, like a wound-up machine.
Days blended into a single endless march. Brief pauses to chew raw flesh from the ears. Moments of fitful sleep, slumped against a tree. Then onward again—tireless, punishing. The tulwar's glow had long since dimmed to a faint shimmer, a ghost of its true radiance.
The forest ended suddenly, as if cut off by an invisible line. When Finn looked back, he saw what he had somehow missed all this time—a dense wall of fog cloaking the woods. Oddly, within it, he had felt nothing of its presence.
The air outside was startlingly light, as though an unseen weight had been lifted from his shoulders. And then he saw them—on the horizon, where sky met earth. Structures, unlike anything natural. Straight lines, repeating forms, the suggestion of order.
People… The single clear thought pierced the haze of exhaustion.
His arm dropped limply, the tulwar dragging along the ground, carving a furrow in the dirt. Finn didn't notice. His whole being locked on those distant shapes, wavering like a mirage.
The sun crept across the sky as he staggered forward, stumbling, swaying. The houses on the horizon sharpened, gaining solidity, becoming real.