He woke up with his head pounding, a relentless thrum echoing in his skull. His body felt impossibly heavy, weighed down by an invisible force that seemed to root him in place. He struggled to move, but even the slightest effort felt futile—he couldn't even manage to wiggle his fingertips.
His vision was blurred, the world around him swimming in a haze of distorted shapes and dim light. He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the searing pain to subside. Each second stretched into eternity as he lay there, helpless and disoriented.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the pain began to dull, its sharp edge softening into a heavy ache. He focused all his willpower on a single task—moving just one finger. It was as difficult as trying to shift a massive boulder.
Gritting his teeth, he summoned every ounce of strength he could muster. Slowly, painstakingly, his finger twitched, the slight movement sending a wave of relief and exhaustion through his body.
"Okay," he muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "One step at a time."
It was then that he realized he could move his hand. Slowly, painstakingly, he worked his way further, the faintest flicker of motion spreading from his hand to his arm. With a monumental effort, he focused next on his leg, forcing it to respond. His muscles screamed in protest, but inch by inch, he regained control until, at last, he managed to roll over.
He never thought something as simple as rolling over could be so difficult. Gasping for air, he winced as pain flared through his body. Bracing himself against the wall, he grabbed onto the rough surface, his fingers digging into the cracks as he tried to steady himself. His legs felt weak, trembling under his weight, and his entire body felt unnaturally heavy.
With a final push, he stood up, leaning heavily against the wall for support. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he looked around the cavern, taking in the aftermath.
It was a mess. Rocks and debris littered the ground, dust hanging thick in the air and catching in his throat. He coughed, covering his mouth with one hand as he tried to clear his lungs. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—familiar.
Then he noticed it: Sol was nowhere to be seen.
"Sol," he called out, his voice rough and strained. It echoed faintly in the cavern, but there was no response. The silence pressed in on him, heavy and unnerving. He called out again, louder this time.
"Sol!"
"Damn, where could she have gone?" he mumbled, clutching his back as a sharp pain shot through him. Staggering forward, he took slow, deliberate steps, each one feeling heavier than the last as he worked his way back toward the chamber.
The thudding noises on the wall were clearer now, resonating through the cavern like a relentless drumbeat. Each impact made the ground tremble slightly beneath his feet, the sound reverberating in his chest.
He groaned, wiping the dust from his face as he leaned against the wall for support. The thuds seemed to grow louder with every passing second, a grim reminder of the danger closing in.
"I really don't have much time left," he muttered to himself, his voice low and filled with frustration. His grip on the wall tightened as he pushed himself forward, forcing his weary legs to move.
It took a while for him to reach the chamber. By the time he arrived, he was out of breath, his chest heaving as he leaned against the entrance for support. His eyes scanned the familiar space, searching for anything out of place
Nothing looked unusual.
The flames lining the walls burned brightly, their steady glow illuminating the glyphs that pulsed faintly with golden light. The chamber hummed with its usual energy, calm yet alive, as though it had been undisturbed.
Ezra frowned, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Nothing's changed," he muttered, his voice echoing softly in the cavernous space. But something still felt wrong—off in a way he couldn't quite put into words.