The undead, once clawing and screeching under the command of the Warlock, crumbled into dust.
Their bones clattered against the dungeon floor as if even death itself feared the presence of the Dakin Dagger.
The Warlock lowered his staff.
All five of them—our brothers in arms—lay lifeless at his feet, their blood soaking the stone floor.
Their weapons, once raised with hope, now lay broken and abandoned beside their bodies.
He stopped his summoning, and for a heartbeat, the dungeon was still, save for the flickering torches that hissed in the stale air.
The Warlock's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold:
"Any last wish before you follow them into the underworld?"
He was mocking us.
We were only six left now. Six frightened souls, shaking, wounded, and drenched in sweat.
The smell of blood hung heavy around us, and my heart pounded so loud I thought it might burst.
One of us named Harel, with a deep cut across his chest—dropped to his knees. His eyes brimmed with tears.
"I… I miss my home," he sobbed, clutching his wound.
"The fields, the hills… my mother's voice. I don't want to die here."
The Warlock tilted his head, watching us like a vulture circling its prey.
"Homes, dreams, love… all dust in the wind." His grin widened. "You will be forgotten here."
Another soldier, Dravos, a tall man with weary eyes, staggered toward me.
Blood dripped from his arm where a blade had sliced him open. He pressed something into my hand—a simple iron ring, worn and old.
"Listen, boy," he rasped, gripping my shoulder with surprising strength.
"Soldier, you run away from here. Don't look back. When you reach Blackwin's Estate, head toward the Marshred Village. Find a woman there, she'll recognize this ring instantly. Tell her my name… Dravos. Tell her that I loved her."
I looked down at the ring.
"But… I can't leave you here! I can't just—"
Dravos cut me off.
"Don't argue! You're young, faster than the rest of us. You can carry our story beyond this cursed place. Promise me—you will deliver it."
I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. "I… I promise."
Beside us, another soldier, badly burned from the flames of the Warlock's spell, coughed violently.
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a rolled parchment, sealed with our captain's crest.
His hand shook as he pushed it toward me.
"Take this… give it to the Captain. She must know what happened here. She must… she must prepare."
I clutched the scroll against my chest.
"I'll make sure she gets it. I swear it."
Three of the others gathered around me.
One of them, Aric, barely older than me, forced a smile despite the blood running down his face.
"You're still young," he said. "Your story isn't meant to end in this dungeon."
"Yes," another added, placing his broken spear on the ground.
"Run, while you can. Don't waste the chance we'll never have again."
The third, a woman named Selra, whispered, "Go. Live. If you don't, then our deaths mean nothing."
My lips trembled.
"But… if I run… ?"
Dravos barked a laugh, though it was strained, more like a cough.
"No. It makes you a survivor. We fight, you carry the torch. That's how stories live on."
The Warlock, bored with our exchanges, slammed the butt of his staff onto the ground.
"Enough of this foolishness," he hissed.
"I did not come here to watch your pathetic goodbyes. I came here for your souls."
He raised his dagger.
Harel cried out again, clutching his wound. "Please, I don't want to die!"
The Warlock sneered. "Then die begging."
He stepped forward, but Dravos moved in his path, raising his sword though his arm shook with weakness.
"You'll have to go through us first."
The others followed, battered and broken, yet standing tall. For the first time, I understood—they weren't trying to win. They were giving me time.
Selra glanced back at me.
"Run, boy. Now. While we can still stand."
I shook my head violently, tears burning down my cheeks.
"I can't leave you like this!"
Dravos snarled at me. "If you stay, you will doom us all. Go! That's an order!"
The Warlock's crimson gaze turned toward me, narrowing as though he had already guessed what they were trying to do.
"Ahhh… so they mean to save you. The youngest lamb. How sweet. How pointless."
He lifted the Dakin Dagger higher, its blade gleaming with a dark, hungry light.
Selra screamed, "GO!"
And then, chaos erupted.
The five of them surged forward, their weapons raised, their bodies battered but unyielding.
The Warlock swung his dagger, and the ground split, crimson energy tearing through the dungeon floor.
Sparks flew, dust filled the air, and their cries mingled with the clash of steel and the roar of magic.
I stumbled backward, clutching the ring and the scroll, my heart breaking. Their voices still echoed in my ears.
"For the King!" Dravos shouted, even as the Warlock's dagger pierced his chest.
"For Theralith!" cried another, his blade shattering against the Warlock's unholy power.
"For the Blue Planet!" Selra screamed, blood splattering across her face as she swung her weapon one last time.
Their cries were drowned by the Warlock's mocking laughter.
And me—I turned. My legs moved before my mind could stop them.
My vision blurred with tears as I ran into the darkness of the dungeon's corridors. Their voices, their courage, their sacrifice followed me like ghosts.
Behind me, the Warlock's voice boomed one last time.
"Run, little lamb. Run, and remember this: no matter how far you flee, the shadow of the Dakin Dagger will always find you."
And then their screams ended.
I clutched the ring tighter, my chest burning with grief. My brothers and sisters had given everything for me. I would not waste it.
I ran.
My legs burned, my chest heaved, but I didn't dare stop. Every step echoed against the dungeon walls, each sound chased by the memory of screams that still rang in my ears.
The air was thick with smoke and ash, and yet ahead of me I saw it—the faint shimmer of a golden light, far down the passage.
That was where the old man stayed, the safe place, the one corner of this nightmare where the darkness seemed afraid to crawl.
My heart leapt. If I could just reach it… if I could just cross that threshold, maybe I would live.
But.