The wind whipped against their faces, carrying sparks from molten fissures, and they skirted around a section where a river of molten rock had forced the stone into jagged spikes. Small, shadowy creatures skittered along the cliff faces, darting back into cracks when they neared the group. Each encounter had tested them—not just physically, but mentally. Coordination wasn't just about striking in unison; it was about knowing when to pull back, when to advance, when a gap in the terrain was more dangerous than an approaching creature.
Elara broke the silence first, her voice soft but firm. "This place… it's different from the dungeons at Havenwood. The hazards feel alive."
Kara nodded, adjusting her footing on a narrow ledge above a glowing fissure. "Everything here reacts. Rock, wind, even the heat. You can't just rely on brute force."
Xander exhaled through his nose. "I've read accounts from other expeditions. Some Adepts never came back. Others survived but barely. They said the canyon tests not just skill but patience. Every misstep is recorded… every hesitation punished."
Luna frowned, glancing up at the jagged cliffs that seemed to stretch endlessly. "We could've… at least contacted the academy before jumping into this. A week in here—and who knows if anyone would even know we're alive?"
Drake's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He simply glanced at her, acknowledging the concern. "We adapted. That's what matters right now. We survive, we learn, then we figure out the rest."
The canyon narrowed, forcing them into a tight passage. A pair of the shadowy creatures leapt from above, claws raking along Drake's side, missing by mere inches. He rolled, driving his fist into the ground, sending shards of stone flying in a controlled wave. One creature was caught, pinned beneath the jagged fragments. Kara moved immediately, her flames wrapping around a second, forcing it back with a sizzling burst. Xander and Elara struck from flanks, landing precise hits, coordinated enough to send the creature tumbling into the molten fissure.
Breathing hard, Drake scanned the canyon ahead. "This isn't random," he muttered. "It's a path… designed."
Kara tilted her head. "By who? Or by what?"
Elara shrugged, brushing ash from her sleeves. "Does it matter? We can theorize all day, or we can focus on making it through."
Hours stretched on. They moved cautiously, jumping across broken stone bridges, ducking under spouts of scalding steam, and avoiding sudden rockfalls. Eventually, dusk—or whatever approximated a setting sun in the rift—approached, and the team began searching for a place to camp.
They found a small alcove halfway up a jagged cliff, shielded from the wind by overhanging stone. Kara directed the setup. Using a combination of ropes and makeshift stakes, they secured tarps fashioned from stretched cloth and enchanted barriers Elara conjured to dampen the heat from nearby molten flows. A small fire was conjured by Kara's controlled flames, its warmth contained in a protective sphere to prevent sparks from igniting the jagged surroundings.
Luna sat a few feet away, tending to minor scrapes and examining the path they'd traversed. "We should've sent a signal. A message flare… something. The academy doesn't even know we're in here."
Kara moved beside her, offering a small smile. "They'd worry. But we'll make it out. That's enough for now. We can't control what's outside, only what we do here."
Drake, meanwhile, examined the terrain around their alcove. His fists brushed over the stone, feeling the tremors beneath—the subtle energy of the rift. He ran through yesterday's lessons, the first encounters, each strategy that had worked, and each that had failed. A spark of calculation lit his eyes. If the next few days followed the same pattern, he'd need to refine their approach, adjust the pace, and prepare for escalation.
Night fell—or something akin to it—and the rift quieted, leaving a distant rumble of molten rivers and occasional rockfalls. They took shifts watching the perimeter, their weapons and senses alert, but fatigue was setting in. Around the fire, the team finally spoke about the day's experiences, comparing their observations, discussing what worked in coordination, and hypothesizing about the creatures' behaviors.
Even in this tense environment, small moments of normalcy emerged. Xander shared a dry joke about the canyon's "friendly hospitality," and Luna laughed quietly, shaking her head. Elara meticulously cleaned minor cuts, while Kara and Drake silently went over the path they'd taken, noting where the terrain could have ended them.
For Drake, the night brought no rest. He lay awake, staring at the faint glow from the molten fissures, letting his thoughts churn. The canyon was relentless, the threats growing with each step. Somewhere inside him, an itch of anticipation sparked—a hunger to push beyond what he had already faced.
The first light—whatever passed for day here—crept over the jagged cliffs, painting the canyon in hues of copper and ash. Drake pushed himself upright, muscles stiff, eyes scanning the fractured terrain. Kara had already begun marking the safest path along narrow ridges, her eyes tracking the unstable stone with precision.
"We move single file here," she instructed quietly. "Stay close. Watch every step."
Drake led, testing each stone before placing weight. Behind him, Luna adjusted her aura to steady footing, her gaze flicking nervously toward unstable ledges and molten veins that split the canyon floor. Xander and Elara flanked the sides, energy pulsing faintly along their hands—lightning and wind ready, not for constant offense, but for sudden hazards.
The canyon itself seemed alive in small, subtle ways. A loose rock clattered from above. A plume of heated dust rose unexpectedly from a fissure. Drake shifted instinctively, landing a step away as a minor, lizard-like creature darted through the dust. Its scales caught the light, glinting like molten metal.
"Don't underestimate them," Kara muttered, her voice low, as she drew an arrow. The flames along its shaft flickered in the canyon heat.
The skirmish was brief but tense. Drake slammed a jagged chunk of stone into the lizard mid-leap, sending it skittering back. Xander directed a bolt of lightning, striking another creature probing the group's flank, while Elara's gusts of wind swept away debris, keeping footing safe. Luna's subtle healing aura mended minor cuts and kept their balance steady.
Hours passed in a careful rhythm of movement, observation, and occasional skirmishes. The canyon's hazards were as deadly as the creatures themselves: sudden rockfalls, rivers of molten stone, and gusts of wind that could tear a person from a ledge. Yet the team pressed on, learning the patterns and testing coordination, marking safe points and potential dangers along the fractured terrain.
When they finally made camp on a ledge above a boiling river, Kara led the setup. A small overhang provided shelter, and Drake helped stack stones to block gusts and falling debris. They scavenged small pockets of flat rock for seating, and Elara crafted makeshift wind barriers around their fire—more to stabilize the heat and debris than to ward against monsters.
As night fell, the canyon seemed to settle—but not entirely. Somewhere in the distance, faint shifting noises hinted at creatures watching, testing. The team ate in silence, sharing little more than observations.
Luna broke the quiet. "We could have at least contacted Havenwood before stepping in here. This isn't a simple training exercise."
Drake nodded, absently tracing a fissure in the ledge with a gloved finger. "We didn't have that option. We adapt. That's all we can do."
"Adaptation is fine," Luna said softly, "but we should stay sharp. I don't like the unknown we've walked into."
The first night passed with little sleep. Every snap of stone or flicker of molten light drew their attention. Even so, the team gradually fell into a rhythm: Kara keeping paths clear, Drake monitoring hazards, Xander and Elara ready to intervene with elemental bursts, and Luna stabilizing their footing and minor injuries.
The next day, they encountered larger creatures—scaled lizards with armored backs, insectoid predators with crystalline carapaces, and small swarms that moved almost like coordinated packs. Each engagement tested their teamwork, but the group began to understand the canyon's subtle intelligence: attacks came where the terrain made them vulnerable, hazards seemed to react to their presence, yet patterns emerged if they observed closely.
By the afternoon, a new, larger presence made itself known. From a crag above, a hulking humanoid figure stepped into the chaotic light. Its limbs were elongated, body partially covered in hardened, reflective scales. Unlike the previous creatures, it did not immediately attack, but its gaze swept over them, calculating.
A low, distorted voice rolled across the canyon. "Drake… D'Varen. A thousand years early. My master… not expecting you."
The name struck everyone—Drake included. Confusion, tension, and caution spiked simultaneously. None of them had expected sentience here. Kara's hand instinctively flexed, while Xander and Elara prepared elemental responses—not offensive, but defensive, ready to react.
Drake took a measured step forward, letting the others form a protective semi-circle behind him. The canyon around them seemed to pulse, as though the environment itself was holding its breath.
The figure did not move further but tilted its head, waiting. The team realized something crucial: this was not just another monster. It was aware. It could think. And it had come here for a reason.