Author's note: April fool, I guess.
Next chapter update will be on Friday 4th April.
**********
The tunnel swallowed them in a rush of sand and darkness, their bodies tumbling through the cramped, jagged shaft.
The air was thick with dust, gritty and sharp in their throats. Sand rasped against their skin, filling their mouths, their eyes, and every crevice.
It was the second time they'd been forced into a tunnel like this—tight, suffocating, and cold.
And Sawyer was sick of it.
His knees scraped against rough stone, and the sand bit into his palms with every frantic push forward. The air was stale, each breath a struggle against the dust clogging his throat.
Behind him, Mark's massive form pressed uncomfortably close, his broad shoulders scraping the tunnel walls with each crawl. His size made every inch a battle, and his grunts of discomfort echoed through the narrow space.
"Next time," Mark growled, his voice tight and muffled, "don't take a giant with claustrophobia through tight spaces."
The sand deadened the sound, but the tension in his voice was clear.
"You know all giants hate tiny corners, right?" Mark added, his voice strained but clearly attempting humor—or maybe he was just trying to calm his own nerves.
Sawyer's reply was flat and tired. "Yeah. Sure." His voice carried the exhaustion of someone who had long passed the point of caring.
But keeping Mark talking was better than letting his panic build. The last thing they needed was a claustrophobic giant losing his mind underground.
A dry chuckle came from behind them.
"Maybe I should've left you there," Sarah quipped, her voice threaded with amusement from the rear of their crawl. "The Kamalians would've loved a giant-sized snack."
Mark's laugh came fast and nervous. "Oh no. Tight spaces over that any day." His voice trembled slightly, the humor failing to mask his anxiety.
A dangerous growl followed from Sarah, her voice dipping low, predatory.
"Say 'tight spaces' one more time," she warned, her tone edged with dark promise, "and I'll eat you myself."
The sound of Mark swallowing hard was loud even through the tunnel's muffling sand.
Sawyer, lips twitching despite himself, muttered under his breath, "Great. Kamalian snack or Sarah snack. Tough call."
The air grew colder the deeper they crawled, the temperature dropping sharply. The sandy floor grew damp, clinging to their palms and knees. The faint, distant sound of dripping water reached their ears—a stark contrast to the arid cavern above.
Sawyer's voice, rough with dust and exhaustion, broke the tense silence.
"How… did you even know about this tunnel?" His words echoed slightly, the space widening ahead.
From behind him, Sarah answered, her voice steady but threaded with a hint of pride.
"One of my primate abilities," she said casually. "I can sense tunnels. Cavities. Hidden spaces."
Sawyer's brow furrowed, confusion tugging at his exhaustion.
"Then… how didn't you notice the one where that—what did you call it, Mark?" He glanced over his shoulder briefly.
"Supply box," Mark supplied quickly, his voice still a little breathless.
"Yeah. That." Sawyer continued. "If you can sense tunnels, how'd you miss where that came from?"
There was a pause. A hesitation.
Then, Sarah spoke, and her voice was different—quieter. Uneasy.
"…I don't know."
The honesty in her tone sharpened the silence.
"I could only sense this tunnel. The one below us. There wasn't anything else. Nothing. But that box—" She paused, her voice tightening with uncertainty. "It was just…there. Out of nowhere."
Sawyer felt the hair on his neck rise.
The box.
No entrance. No cavity. No sign of where it came from.
It had simply—
Appeared.
"Maybe you were just tired from all the fighting and stuff," Mark offered, his voice light, an attempt to encourage her.
Sarah, her face still shadowed with uncertainty, glanced at him. "Yeah… thanks, Mark," she replied, and though her tone was flat, a flicker of gratitude softened the edge of her voice.
The air inside the tunnel was thick—damp and stale—each breath tasting of earth and grit. Their bodies ached from crawling, and exhaustion pressed heavy on their limbs. The sand clung to their skin, and their clothes felt like they had been through a grinder.
Sawyer, pushing ahead, suddenly froze. His eyes, gritty and bloodshot, widened as a soft, pale light flickered ahead. His heart kicked up a beat.
"Guys," he called back, his voice low but urgent, "I see something."
As if on cue, his stomach let out a loud, painful growl, a sharp reminder of their gnawing hunger. It had been too long since they had eaten anything—long enough that his body felt weak and hollow.
Mark, crawling right behind him, heard it and couldn't resist a comment.
"Whatever you're seeing," he muttered, his voice tinged with hopeful anticipation, "I really hope it's food."
**********
But it wasn't.
The tunnel opened up into a vast cavern, and the light—strange and ethereal—was coming from the walls.
Thick and rugged, the cavern walls jutted upward, textured like the ribs of some ancient beast. Embedded deep within the stone were massive, glowing crystals—each one a vivid, pulsating green. Their soft light bathed the cavern in an eerie, otherworldly glow, casting faint shadows that seemed to move with the crystals' slow, rhythmic pulses.
The air felt colder here, charged with something strange and ancient. There was a weight to it, as though the cavern itself was holding its breath.
Mark's eyes went wide, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. His voice, when it came, was laced with awe.
"This… is amazing."
He scrambled to his feet, boots crunching over loose gravel as he approached the nearest cluster of crystals. His broad, calloused hand hovered above one, the warmth from its glow brushing his skin. His lips parted slightly, as if in reverence.
"These…" he said, his voice soft, "are witch stones."
"Witch stones?" Sawyer echoed, his brow furrowing. His eyes, wary but curious, swept over the abundance of glowing crystals.
Mark nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah. Extremely rare to find."
Sawyer, his voice dry with skepticism, countered, "Don't seem that rare to me." His eyes flicked pointedly to the countless crystals studding the walls. "This place looks like a damn gemstone mine."
Mark's hand dropped to his side. His voice, when he spoke again, had shifted—lower, heavier.
"They only grow," he said, "where witches died. A lot of them."
The cavern seemed to grow colder.
Sawyer's gaze snapped back to Mark, his face tightening with disbelief. "Wait—what?"
Mark's lips pressed thin, his eyes reflecting the green glow as though it had seeped into him. "The crystals get their glow from witches' blood."
The weight of the words sank into the air, turning it leaden.
Sawyer blinked. "That's… new." His voice was strained, struggling between disbelief and something darker. "Didn't expect that." He paused, his eyes scanning the sheer number of stones. "But with this many…" His voice trailed, his hand reaching toward one of the crystals almost involuntarily.
Mark's voice, somber and distant, followed him.
"Makes you wonder," he muttered, his gaze sweeping the cavern, "just how many witches died here."
The silence that followed felt almost… haunted.
Sarah, who had moved ahead without a word, suddenly broke the stillness.
"No time to sulk, kiddos," she announced, her voice brisk, snapping the tension. She was crouched in a corner of the cavern, the witch stones casting a spectral glow on her features. "The ground is just above us. I can feel it."
Her fingers were pressed lightly to the earth, her expression distant, focused. There was a certainty to her voice—a primal instinct.
Mark, shaking off the unease, hoisted the supply box from his back with a soft grunt and clunked it down beside her.
The box, metallic and scuffed from years of service, sat heavily on the stone floor.
Sawyer, arms folded, arched a brow. "Now what are you looking for?" he asked, his voice edged with impatience.
Mark crouched down, running his hand along the surface. "A way to input the access code," he said shortly.
With a soft click, a button depressed beneath his thumb.
A blue holographic keypad flared to life from the surface of the box, casting his face in a cool glow.
Mark's expression soured instantly. "Ugh." He scowled. "Old model supply box."
Sawyer frowned. "What's wrong with it?"
"Passwords were always the same," Mark replied, already typing a sequence of numbers. His thick fingers moved swiftly, confident. The keys chimed softly beneath his touch—
—until a harsh, warbling buzz shattered the rhythm.
Incorrect password.
Mark's brow creased deeply. "Huh," he muttered, scratching his bald head, his voice puzzled. "That's… weird."
Sawyer's foot tapped restlessly on the stone. "What now?" he demanded, irritation creeping into his tone. "Wrong password?"
Before Mark could answer, a distant, low rumble sent vibrations through the floor.
Then—
"Guys!" Sawyer's voice spiked, his eyes flashing with alarm as he glanced around. "We have to move. They found us!"
The ground beneath their knees trembled, faint at first—then harder, a rhythmic, pulsing quake. Dust sifted from the cavern ceiling, whispering of something massive approaching.
Sarah's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. Her muscles tensed, ready. "Great," she growled, her voice sharp with urgency. "Just what we needed—motivation." She shot a look at Mark. "Can you hurry it up?"
Mark's fingers flew over the keys. His voice, tight with frustration, snapped back, "Someone overrode the passwords."
He flipped the box upside down with a metallic clang, unclipping a panel on the underside to reveal a tangle of colored wires and circuits.
"I've got no choice but to hack it manually," he said, his voice clipped with tension. "But with the tools I've got…" He pulled a thin, multi-tool from his belt and began crossing wires with quick, practiced motions. "It's going to take a couple of minutes."
Behind him, Sawyer shifted his weight, his eyes darting between the shaking cavern walls and the furiously working Mark. He licked his cracked lips and, despite himself, said, "I know this is probably the worst time, but…"
Mark, without looking up, snapped, "Listen, Sawyer, if you're about to tell me to hurry up because something's going to eat us—I know that already." His voice was tight, frayed at the edges.
Sawyer, however, wasn't panicking. Instead, his voice dropped into something almost sheepish.
"Actually," he muttered, his eyes flicking downward as he nudged a small rock with his foot, "I wanted to ask… what does a supply box do, exactly?"
Mark froze mid-wire twist.
Slowly, his head turned, and he stared at Sawyer with an expression of pure incredulity.
"Seriously?" he demanded, his voice rising in disbelief. "Right now?"
"Like you said, we might get eaten in a few minutes, and I would really love to know before I die," Sawyer said, his voice a strained mix of fear and morbid curiosity.
Mark let out a theatrical sigh, shaking his head as if deeply burdened. "Alright, alright, I hear your pitiful cries." His voice was laced with mock exasperation. "The supply box is basically a military-grade container. It holds food rations, equipment, and weapons—standard survival gear."
Sawyer's eyes widened. "Wait, so you're saying this thing has been sitting here *since* the last war? That was, what, a hundred years ago?"
Mark nodded. "Yep. But don't worry—pixie magic. Time-stopper enchantment. It keeps everything inside in the exact state it was in when it was sealed. No decay, no rust, no spoilage."
Sawyer frowned, crossing his arms. "Then what's the problem?"
Mark's expression darkened slightly as he ran a hand over the box. "Well…this particular supply box was part of an experimental batch. Instead of the standard enchantment locks, it uses a manual security code—one that was assigned before the war. It's 1244, by the way. The newer models have long since upgraded to face recognition and magic prints."
Sawyer raised an eyebrow. "Magic prints?"
"Don't ask," Mark cut in quickly, pointing a warning finger at him.
"I wasn't going to," Sawyer muttered, stepping back to let him work. His mind was already buzzing with too many thoughts—thoughts about what was outside, what could be coming for them.
He turned and walked toward Sarah, who stood near the cave's entrance, her twin daggers held loosely but ready in her hands. Her eyes were locked on the darkness beyond, the steady thudding from the tunnel growing louder, more insistent.
"Do you think we'll survive?" Sawyer asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with exhaustion.
Sarah didn't look away. "Depends on if Mark can get that damn box open," she said, her grip tightening slightly on the hilts of her blades.
A particularly loud *bang* made her flinch. The tunnel entrance trembled slightly, small rocks dislodging from the ceiling, sending a fine layer of dust cascading down.
"Mark!" she snapped.
"Any minute now," he called back, his voice strained. His fingers moved quickly over the panel, sparks occasionally jumping from exposed wires. "Ow! Damn it!" he cursed as a jolt of electricity nipped at his skin.
Sawyer barely had time to turn back toward the entrance before the dust in the air thickened. Something heavy shifted in the tunnel beyond, the sound of stone grinding against stone filling the space. Then, from within the swirling dust, a single, malevolent eye appeared—glowing faintly, unblinking, filled with something ancient and predatory.
Sawyer didn't hesitate. He raised his weapon and fired.
A guttural growl echoed through the cave, deep and vibrating like a living thing in his chest. The eye flinched, and then, without warning, heavy footsteps retreated into the tunnel's depths.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"They're here," Sarah announced, her voice sharp with tension. The distant thudding had grown into a deafening series of impacts, the sound of rock splitting and shattering filling the cave.
A deep crack formed in the tunnel wall, dust and debris cascading down as something massive forced its way through. Without warning, one of the larger Kamalians lunged into the cave, its elongated limbs moving with unnatural speed. Its scaled body glistened under the dim cave light, its yellow eyes locked onto Sarah with predatory focus.
She didn't hesitate. With a swift, practiced motion, she charged, her twin daggers flashing in the low light. The Kamalian roared, baring its serrated teeth as it met her head-on.
Before Sawyer could react, a second Kamalian burst through the tunnel, its claws extended as it lunged straight for him. He barely managed to lift his weapon in time, pulling the trigger in desperation. A shot rang out, but the creature dodged with terrifying agility, weaving past the bullet like it had anticipated the attack.
Sawyer's breath hitched. It was too fast. The Kamalian was already upon him, its claws swinging toward his throat.
Then, in an instant, a powerful blast erupted, striking the creature in mid-air. The force sent it hurtling backward, its body slamming against the rock wall with a sickening crunch.
Stunned, Sawyer spun around to see Mark standing a few feet away, holding a weapon he had never seen before.
It wasn't a standard firearm.
The sleek, futuristic design of the gun immediately caught Sawyer's attention. The body was a combination of matte black and white tones, its frame highly angular with sharp lines and high-tech accents. A heavy-duty barrel protruded from the front, glowing with an ominous purple light that pulsed faintly, hinting at an energy-based attack system.
A compact, high-tech scope sat on top, the lens tinted with a deep violet hue, suggesting enhanced targeting capabilities. Near the grip, small illuminated symbols flickered, their meaning unknown but giving the weapon an advanced, tactical feel.
Even the grip itself was unlike any firearm Sawyer had ever handled—it was ergonomic, designed for seamless control and comfort, making it clear that this weapon was built for precision *and* power.
Sawyer swallowed. "Where the hell did you get that?"
Mark smirked, casually reloading. The energy core of the weapon hummed softly as the chamber reset.
"Oh, we are so back," he said, lifting the gun and aiming it toward the tunnel. His expression was a mix of excitement and determination, his finger resting lightly on the trigger.
"Who's next?"
The cavern air vibrated with the guttural shrieks of the Kamalians, their inhuman cries bouncing off the jagged rock walls. A relentless tide of chitin and malice surged through the narrow opening, their segmented bodies glistening under the dim glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the cavern ceiling. Their multifaceted eyes gleamed with cold calculation, their sharp mandibles clicking in eerie unison as they advanced.
Mark stood frozen for a heartbeat, his pulse thundering in his ears. His hands trembled as he squeezed the trigger of his blaster, but his aim was unsteady. Energy bolts spat wildly against the cavern walls, leaving scorched streaks but failing to hit a single target. His breath came in ragged gasps, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a vice. "There goes my star moment," he muttered under his breath, frustration lacing his voice.
Sarah didn't hesitate. Without a word, she wrenched the blaster from his hands and leveled it with practiced ease. Her expression was hard, her sharp gaze locked on the incoming threat. She squeezed the trigger in quick, precise bursts, each shot finding its mark. The cavern echoed with the sharp reports of gunfire as several Kamalians crumpled to the ground, their armored bodies twitching before going still.
A few feet away, Sawyer clutched an empty holster, his face pale with barely contained panic. His wide eyes darted between Sarah and Mark as if hoping one of them had a solution that didn't involve getting torn apart. "What do you have for me?" he stammered, his voice cracking.
"Nothing good," Sarah shot back without looking at him. She spun toward a rusted metal storage box near the cavern wall and yanked it open, rummaging through its contents. A moment later, she pulled out several bulky, dust-covered vests. "Put these on," she ordered, tossing one to Sawyer.
She turned back to Mark, her eyes burning with urgency. "What else do we have?"
Mark's hands worked quickly, his fingers brushing over the old supplies inside the box. "Food rations, glow sticks, water, a holster—" he paused, his brow furrowing as he pulled out a pair of cylindrical objects. "And a couple of bubble shells."
Sarah scoffed, shaking her head. "Really? Standard issue? That's all?"
Mark let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, standard old model box. Honestly, I'm still wondering how we even got our hands on a high-tech blaster."
He held up one of the bubble shells, tilting it to examine its contents. Inside the glass cylinder, two viscous substances—one green, the other silver—swirled lazily, separated by a thin metal partition.
Sawyer, despite his fear, craned his neck to get a better look. "What does that do?"
Mark smirked, a flicker of pride shining through his nervous energy. "Oh, you're going to love these," he said, shaking the shell vigorously. The two substances inside swirled together, merging into a pulsating, luminescent mixture. "My uncle designed them. This little thing right here is about to buy us some time."
Without further explanation, he hurled the shell toward the advancing Kamalians. It shattered against a protruding rock, and within seconds, the strange substance expanded at an unnatural speed, forming a grotesque, undulating bubble. The first few Kamalians that charged forward were instantly engulfed. Their shrieks of rage turned to distorted, muffled screams as the gelatinous material solidified around them, trapping them like insects in amber.
Mark didn't wait to see how long it would hold. He spun on his heel and pulled another small device from his vest—a compact explosive charge. He thumbed the activation switch and tossed it into the air. The blast rocked the cavern, sending a shockwave through the ground as a section of the ceiling blew apart. Sand cascaded down like a waterfall, creating a new exit.
"That's our way out!" Mark shouted, his voice barely audible over the rumbling debris. He grabbed the hoister—a device resembling a heavy crossbow—and aimed it at the fresh opening. With a sharp press of the trigger, a thick metal arrow shot upward, embedding itself into the rock. A sturdy rope trailed behind it, snapping taut as the mechanism locked into place.
"Good enough," he muttered, giving the rope a firm tug. Satisfied, he turned back to the others. "Get on!"
Sarah wasted no time. She grabbed Sawyer by the vest and shoved him toward the rope. "Climb, now!" she ordered, slinging the blaster over her shoulder as she positioned herself between him and the remaining Kamalians.
Mark's pulse hammered as he turned back toward the creatures. The sand was rising fast, swirling around their ankles, threatening to pull them under. If the Kamalians didn't get them, the cavern itself would. He inhaled sharply, hoisting himself onto the rope just as the trapped creatures behind them started to break free from the bubble shell's grip.
He climbed quickly, his muscles burning with exertion. The weight of his gear slowed him, but adrenaline kept him moving. He reached the opening first, fumbling at his belt for a small, disc-like device. Pressing it against the edge of the hole, he activated it with a sharp twist. A shimmering holographic shield sprang to life, forming a temporary barrier against the collapsing tunnel.
"Hurry!" he yelled down to Sawyer, reaching out to grab him as the younger man scrambled up.
Sawyer grasped his hand, panting as Mark hauled him through the opening. But the shield was already showing signs of strain. Thin cracks spiderwebbed across its glowing surface, the weight of the sand pressing down on it like a living force.
Sawyer turned, his breath hitching as he realized Sarah was still below. She was climbing as fast as she could, but she was still several meters down. The sand was rising around her legs, dragging her back.
"Come on!" Sawyer screamed, reaching down toward her.
Mark, his heart hammering, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back just as the shield shattered. The sand surged forward in an unstoppable avalanche, swallowing Sarah whole
A raw, desperate cry shattered the quiet of the night.
"No, no, no! Sarah!!"
Sawyer's voice cracked as he stumbled forward, his boots skidding on the loose gravel. His heart pounded against his ribs, every frantic step driving him toward the disturbed patch of earth ahead. A jagged hole, its edges roughly covered with loose sand, gaped in the ground—a dark, yawning mouth swallowing the weak light of the stars above.
Without a second thought, he dropped to his knees and started digging. His hands plunged into the cold earth, fingers clawing frantically at the loose soil. Dirt wedged itself under his nails, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he worked with desperate urgency.
"Damn it, Sawyer! Stop!"
A pair of strong hands grabbed his arms, yanking him back. Mark's grip was firm, his voice laced with frustration and concern. "You don't know what you're doing!"
But Sawyer barely heard him. He fought against Mark's hold, his body tense, his focus locked on the dark abyss before him. His mind was a blur of panic and determination, an instinctual need driving him forward.
Somewhere in the wind, a sound slithered through the air, thin and distant.
"Deeper..."
The whisper was barely more than a breath, an eerie distortion curling around them like mist. Sawyer stiffened. The voice—was it real? Or just a trick of the night?
Mark's grip tightened. "Sawyer, snap out of it! This isn't—"
Sawyer wrenched free with a sudden burst of strength, his hands plunging back into the dirt. His fingers sank into the shifting grains, the rough sand scraping against his knuckles. Tiny cuts bloomed across his skin, sharp stings swallowed by the cold night air. The chill burned his fingertips, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
He dug blindly, driven by something beyond reason, beyond fear. His hands ached, his breath hitched, but then—
A shift.
The texture of the earth changed beneath his hands. The loose sand gave way to something solid. Cold. Unyielding.
His breath hitched as his fingers curled around it. Without hesitation, he pulled.
The resistance was immediate, the weight pressing against him like the deadened grip of something buried too long. His muscles strained as he heaved, dragging the form upward, the sand clinging stubbornly as if reluctant to let go.
Then, finally, she emerged.
Sarah.
Her body was limp, coated in dirt and sand. The fine, crystal-blue shimmer of her scales was dulled beneath the grime, her skin chillingly pale. Strands of hair clung to her forehead, matted with damp earth. Her eyes were closed, her expression eerily still.
Mark was already helping him, their movements quick but careful as they lowered her onto the ground.
Sawyer's throat tightened. He pressed two fingers to her neck, searching—praying—for a pulse.
A faint beat. Slow, weak. But there.
"God, she's freezing," he breathed, his voice strained with relief and worry in equal measure.
His hands fumbled at his belt, fingers shaking as he yanked free one of the glow sticks they carried. He snapped it, the chemical reaction hissing softly as green light bled into the darkness, casting eerie shadows across her still form.
Mark exhaled sharply beside him. "What the hell happened to her?"
Sawyer didn't answer. He swallowed hard, pressing the glowing stick against Sarah's skin, hoping the warmth would stir something in her.
A long, agonizing moment passed. Then—
A low groan.
Her limbs twitched. Her fingers flexed, then clenched into weak fists. Her breathing hitched, her chest rising unevenly.
She was waking up.
Sawyer barely had time to register the relief before everything went wrong.
With a sudden, violent jolt, Sarah's body convulsed. Her eyes snapped open, wide and unfocused. Her hands clawed at the air, grasping blindly, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.
Then, before either of them could react, her tail lashed out.
It moved with terrifying speed, wrapping around Mark's neck like a coiling serpent.
Mark choked. His body jerked as the powerful muscles constricted, cutting off his airflow instantly. His hands shot up, fingers prying desperately at the thick, scaled appendage locked around his throat. His legs kicked against the dirt, his eyes bulging as his face darkened.
"Sarah! Sarah, it's me, Sawyer!" Sawyer shouted, scrambling to pry her off. "You're safe! Open your eyes!"
But she wasn't seeing them.
Her pupils were dilated, unfocused, her chest heaving as adrenaline and instinct took over. Her body was still caught between survival and reality, her mind locked in whatever nightmare she had just come from.
Mark's face turned an alarming shade of purple. The veins in his temples bulged, thick and pulsing, his movements growing weaker.
Sawyer cursed. "Damn it, Sarah! Look at him!"
Something in his voice must have reached her because, suddenly, her gaze sharpened. Her breathing hitched, her muscles tensing in realization.
Her expression crumpled. Horror flooded her features as she saw what she had done.
"Oh my God," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Sawyer, I—I didn't—"
"Yeah, it's fine," Sawyer cut in quickly, though his voice was strained. "But can you, I don't know, let go of Mark now?"
Sarah recoiled, her tail immediately unwinding.
Mark collapsed forward, his body crumpling like a puppet with cut strings. He hit the ground hard, gasping, his hands clutching at his bruised throat as he coughed violently, dragging air back into his lungs.
"I'm so sorry!" Sarah's voice cracked as she rushed toward him, her hands hovering over his shoulders, unsure whether to touch him. Tears welled in her eyes. "Mark, I—I didn't mean to—"
Mark's only response was another choking gasp. He coughed, his lungs heaving, before weakly raising a trembling hand. His fingers barely managed to form a thumbs-up before his arm flopped back to the ground.
Sawyer exhaled heavily. His knees finally gave out, and he landed hard on his backside, breathless and exhausted. He tilted his head back, his gaze drifting toward the sky.
Above them, the stars were endless, indifferent to the chaos below.
They had survived.
For now.
And in a place like this, survival was the only thing that mattered.
**********
Notes: what does an audio version of the book sound like?! ;) check out my patron for discussions (osamii).