The man stirred slowly, his breath ragged but alive. I held the crystal water to his lips again, tipping it gently. Some of it dribbled down his chin, but a few drops passed into his mouth. His throat twitched.
Seonwoo stood nearby, sword drawn but relaxed, his eyes scanning the cliffs above. "He's lucky we got here when we did."
"No," I muttered. "We're lucky he survived."
A cough broke the silence. The man groaned, eyes fluttering open, glassy and unfocused. His skin was pale, lips cracked. Beneath the dried blood and dirt, he was younger than I expected—maybe only a few years older than me. His expression twisted in pain, then wariness.
"Easy," I said, raising both hands. "You're safe. We're not here to hurt you."
He blinked at me. "You're... not from the fort."
"No," Seonwoo said grimly. "We burned that place to the ground."
The man laughed—short, bitter. "Good."
"Who did this to you?" I asked.
He looked away. "My people." He paused. "No. They're not my people anymore."
Silence stretched, heavy and cracked.
"My name is Kaelen," he finally said. "I was their healer. Until I found out what they were doing. When I tried to leave... they threw me over."
His voice was hoarse, every word strained.
I looked at Seonwoo. He gave a faint nod.
"You'll die if you stay here," I said. "Come with us."
Kaelen hesitated. Then, with visible effort, he sat up. "I can't offer much. But I know plants, medicine. Wounds. Poisons, too."
"That's more than enough," Seonwoo replied. "We could use someone like you."
A breeze stirred the dust around us. A new path forming—not just away from danger, but toward something stronger.
As we escaped from the edge of the cliff, Kaelen half-limping between Seonwoo and me, I kept glancing back at the ravine. The vultures were gone for now, scattered by Seonwoo's sword and my fire—but they wouldn't stay gone.
We needed to cross. And soon.
We found a shallow overhang nestled in the rocks—a small, temporary shelter where Kaelen could rest. He winced as I checked the rough bandages I'd wrapped around his ribs, but he said nothing, just nodded in quiet thanks. Seonwoo stood watch at the entrance, tense as ever.
I stared back at the gap.
There was no bridge. No planks. Just a jagged stretch of air and the whisper of the wind below.
"I don't suppose you can fly," I muttered, mostly to myself.
Seonwoo smirked. "Not yet."
"Then we're going to have to be smart." I turned, digging into the sparse supplies we had left. Rope. My cloak. A half-broken spear Kaelen had carried. "We'll make our own way across."
Kaelen raised an eyebrow, his voice hoarse but amused. "You're going to build a bridge?"
"Not quite." I pointed to the tall spindly trees nearby. "We make a pulley. Something to get one person across. Then the next. I've seen it in old movies... I think."
Seonwoo frowned, but he was already pulling the rope out. "Even if it holds, you'd have to go first."
"Why me?"
"Because it was your idea," he said. "And I'm not the lightest."
I rolled my eyes but nodded. "Fine. But if I fall and die, you two better name a mountain after me."
Kaelen chuckled softly, eyes closing again as he leaned back against the wall. "Deal.
The trees weren't ideal—thin, bark peeling, swaying slightly in the breeze—but they were tall enough. Seonwoo and I fastened the rope as tightly as we could, anchoring it to the thickest trunk we could find. Across the ravine, I spotted a jagged outcrop jutting from the opposite side, and we hurled a grappling hook tied to the rope until it caught. It held—barely.
Seonwoo tested the tension with a grim look. "It won't support weight for long."
"We only need it to last for three crossings," I said, not letting myself hesitate.
We fashioned a harness out of my cloak and Kaelen's belt, something rough but secure enough to hang from. With trembling fingers, I clipped myself in. My palms were slick. My heart drummed loud in my ears.
I didn't look down.
Hand over hand, I pulled myself across. The wind howled beneath me, a living thing trying to suck me into the void. Halfway through, the rope sagged. A creak echoed across the cliff.
"Don't look down," I muttered to myself. "Don't look down. Don't die."
I made it.
Collapsed on the opposite edge, I screamed triumphantly and threw a fist in the air. Seonwoo exhaled—he'd been holding his breath. Kaelen gave a weak cheer.
Next was Kaelen. He was still recovering, so we tied the harness more securely and made a sling to help guide him. It was slow. Painful. Terrifying. At one point, he slipped—dangling by one arm, his breath caught in a strangled gasp.
"Don't let go!" I shouted.
Seonwoo held the rope on his end, gritting his teeth as he pulled, anchoring him. Together, we reeled Kaelen across inch by inch until his boots thudded beside mine.
Last was Seonwoo.
He didn't bother with the harness. Just gripped the rope and went, muscles taut, every movement fluid and precise. Classic protagonist style.
He made it faster than either of us. He landed lightly beside me, shaking his arms.
"Well," I said, panting. "We didn't die."
"Yet," he replied, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face.
Kaelen chuckled between coughs. "Not bad. For amateurs."
We gathered our gear and walked away from the cliff. Behind us, the rope groaned—and snapped. The tension flung it into the void.
"Guess we're not going back that way," I muttered.
"No," Seonwoo said, eyes on the horizon. "Only forward."
After the nerve-wracking cliff escape, we trekked deeper into the woods. The trees grew denser, darker. Vines curled like veins across tree trunks, and the air was thick with the scent of moss and something faintly metallic.
Kaelen leaned on Seonwoo most of the way, limping, pale. The glowing water had helped, but the wounds left behind were deep. Not just on the surface—something in his eyes said he'd been scarred far worse by betrayal than by claws.
"We need shelter," I said, glancing at the setting sun. "Soon."
Just ahead, past a curtain of hanging moss, we spotted it—an abandoned watchtower, crumbling but sturdy enough to keep the wind and beasts out. Its stone walls were covered in ivy, but the inside had enough space for the three of us and a fire.
We settled in. I made a small fire from what dry wood I could find. Seonwoo sharpened his blade in the corner, while Kaelen stitched the tear in his cloak with trembling fingers. The silence was almost peaceful. Almost.
"You're good with herbs?" I asked Kaelen as I passed him the last of the berries.
He nodded. "I was a healer before… well, before."
I didn't press. He didn't offer more.
That night, as we sat around the fire, Seonwoo spoke first.
"This world used to be beautiful," he murmured. "Before the corruption spread. Before men started skinning monsters to blend in, and monsters wore men like masks."
Kaelen stirred the fire with a stick. "Beauty doesn't die. It just hides."
I watched the two of them, tired but alive, and wondered if maybe—just maybe—I had ended up here for a reason.
Tomorrow, we would move on. But for tonight, we had warmth, safety, and silence.
And that was enough.