They walked in silence.
Renric followed the towering figure through the twisting, half-organic tunnels. No words. No questions. Only the dull clinking of metal and the rhythmic drip of rotwater from above.
The light was dim, barely enough to see the figure's broad back, wrapped in torn cloth and armor made from carved Deep plates. Across it, two chains crossed like restraints—but they didn't rattle unless he moved with intent. That much, Renric noticed. Every sound this man made was deliberate.
The tunnel shifted beneath their feet. Sometimes the floor was flesh. Sometimes jagged stone. Once, it gave beneath Renric's step like water—he barely caught himself.
The figure stopped without turning. "Don't step on the black film. It breathes."
Renric nodded quickly, even though the man couldn't see him.
Still, he watched where he stepped from then on.
They reached a crevice half-hidden by collapsed bones. The figure slipped through easily, and Renric hesitated only a second before following.
The space beyond felt… still. Not safe. But less hostile.
It was an alcove carved into one of the Deep's many twisted arteries — a place where even the wind didn't breathe. In the center was a firepit made of shaped coral and bone. Around it, rusted supplies and scraps of cloth were organized in precise stacks. Hanging from a stone outcropping was a half-dried piece of bloodroot, steaming faintly.
The figure struck a shard of flint against his gauntlet. Sparks. Then fire.
Orange light bloomed.
Renric flinched. It had been days — maybe weeks — since he'd seen anything but blue rotglow and darkness.
The man sat by the flame, back to the stone.
"Sit. If you want," he muttered.
Renric sat.
His stomach growled.
The man didn't react. Just reached behind one of the rocks and pulled out a leather-wrapped packet. He tossed it lightly toward Renric. Inside: dried meat and a chunk of white fungus.
Renric didn't hesitate. He devoured the food like a starving beast.
The figure watched, arms folded. "Good. You remember how to chew."
Renric blinked.
For the first time, he looked directly at the man's face.
Or where a face should be.
The figure wore a helm — bone-masked, shaped like a flat, expressionless face with a jagged seam down one side. From within, faint gold eyes shimmered like candlelight behind fog.
"You talk?" the man asked quietly.
Renric tried. His throat ached. The sound came out broken.
"…I… d–don't know…"
The figure nodded once. Not unkindly.
"You're Etrean. By the look of it." He tossed a small stone into the fire. It cracked. "Blindfold's a smart choice. Or lucky."
Silence again.
Then:
"I'm not going to ask how you got here," he said. "If you don't remember, that's a mercy. If you do, that's your burden. Not mine."
Renric stared into the flame.
"…You're not from here either," he said, voice still hoarse.
"No."
"…Why are you here?"
The man leaned back, letting the firelight paint shadows on the walls.
"I was hunting. Escaping. Surviving. Doesn't matter now."
His fingers tapped the hilt of a chain-hilted weapon by his hip.
"I found a place that breathes, so I stayed. Until the Deep stops watching me."
Renric looked up. "It watches you?"
The figure turned.
"No. It watches you."
That made Renric freeze.
"…W–what?"
The gold eyes narrowed behind the helm.
"There's something… clinging to your echo," he said quietly. "It moves when you don't. It listens when you sleep."
Renric didn't answer.
Because he knew exactly what the man meant.
We are watching.
We always have.
That voice. That presence. It wasn't just in his head.
"…Do you hear it too?" Renric asked.
The man looked away.
"No."
He stood.
"Rest. You'll need it. I'll keep first watch."
Renric hesitated. "You're not going to kill me?"
The figure paused, then chuckled softly.
"If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have given you food."
Then he walked a short distance toward the entrance, chains glinting faintly in the firelight.
Renric curled up by the fire.
He didn't close his eyes yet.
He watched the tall figure… just in case.
But in the flickering warmth, for the first time in too long, he felt a little less alone.
End of Chapter 3.