Kalem's breath rattled in his throat as he leaned heavily against the wall of the tunnel—if it could still be called that. The walls were no longer just stone. They had changed, subtly and terribly. Sinew-like threads pulsed beneath the surface, and every breath he drew seemed thicker than the last. The air itself tasted like rust and sweat.
His leg throbbed relentlessly. The wound that had torn during the last encounter had worsened. The bandage he'd wrapped days ago—days?—was soaked through, crusted dark and sticky. He could feel the infection now, deep beneath the skin, gnawing at the muscle.
The fever had set in.
His vision swam. Every few minutes, the tunnel would shift when he blinked—walls leaning closer, then falling back into place. His fireblade, drawn and glowing faintly by his side, flickered like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
He kept his hand on the crate, its presence grounding him. Heavy. Real. A tether.
But reality had started to fray.
He stumbled forward, panting, and reached a narrow ledge where the tunnel dipped into a low, steaming fissure. The heat rolled out in waves, nearly unbearable—but it was warmth. He sank down beside it, hand clutching his side.
And for a moment—just a moment—it all slipped away.
The Abyss receded.
He was standing in a field. Not of ash or bone or pulsing stone—but gold. Sunlight bathed the tall grass, which rustled softly in a wind he could feel on his face. The sky was clear. Familiar. Safe.
A shadow fell across him.
He turned.
Onyx stood there, unscarred and whole, a radiant halo catching in the bull's curved horns as he tossed his head proudly. Behind him, a tree. That same tree from Kalem's childhood—the lone one that stood beyond the northern ridge of his village. His mother used to—
"Kalem."
The voice came not from memory, but from inside. It didn't sound like a whisper this time.
It sounded gentle.
"You don't have to hurt anymore," it said. "You've done enough."
Kalem's eyes burned. He took a step forward in the dream, reaching for Onyx's mane.
And Onyx stepped back.
Suddenly, the field flickered like torn cloth. The wind turned cold. Onyx's eyes… weren't his anymore. They were black voids. Empty. Too empty.
Kalem's hand dropped.
Then pain screamed through his leg like fire.
He bolted upright, awake. The heat from the fissure was real, and so was the thing crawling across his stomach.
A blind, slug-like parasite the size of a child's forearm was writhing across his skin, sensing his fevered heat. It had no eyes, but rows of needle-like teeth ringed a split down its underside. Dozens more were gathered near his crate, feeling its warmth.
One brushed against his mouth.
Kalem roared, scrambling up and kicking one away, reaching for his blade. His body screamed in protest, the wound in his thigh bursting open again.
He had no time.
He drove the point of the fireblade into the fissure, igniting it into a burst of flame. Then, without thinking, without flinching—
He pressed the blade to his thigh.
The smell of burning flesh was immediate and unbearable. His scream echoed down the tunnel like an animal's. The parasites recoiled at the heat, skittering backward in a mass of wet, slapping flesh.
He didn't stop until the wound was closed. Burned shut. Red and angry.
When he finally collapsed again, it was next to the crate. He curled beside it like a dying beast beside the last remnants of its den. His hand still clutched the sword, now blackened near the hilt.
He couldn't think. Couldn't speak. Just breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
Then came the voice, back again. Still soft. But no longer kind.
"You screamed beautifully."
Kalem didn't respond.
"You burn yourself to stay real. Brave. But pain is mine too. I live in it."
He reached slowly toward the crate, his hand brushing over the lid.
"I won't break," he whispered hoarsely.
A laugh. Dry and distant.
"You already did."
Kalem closed his eyes.
He didn't sleep. Not fully.
But in the dark, with the heat of the fissure at his back and the stench of scorched flesh on the air, he listened to the whispers crawl through his skull like spiders.
And waited for the next horror to find him.