Kael was falling.
The faint radiance of his bloodline began to fade away. The moment stretched into eternity as the whooooosh of the wind rushed by his ears, drowning out everything else.
His body was falling through the sky—a broken, helpless form swallowed by the vast dark abyss below.
The jagged rock walls on either side blurred past him, twisting into a whirlwind of shadows as he fell deeper and deeper. But his mind refused to accept his end. Not yet.
This isn't how I die.
Not like this.
Not in the dark.
Not alone.
Not without trying.
Pain shot throughout his body. His limbs were inactive, depleted from fatigue and injury. His right arm was missing, his shoulder was out of joint. His back ached from the monster's talons, his torso burned with agony and fatigue. Each breath arrived in ragged gasps, his lungs struggling.
Still, even as death was calling him, he was clinging to his life with every ounce of strength that was left in his battered body.
He murmured bitterly in his mind.
"So... life without suffering is nowhere to be discovered. It seems… my vow was nothing but an ideal talk."
His thoughts lingered, heavy with disillusion.
"Even so… I can't give up. Not here. Not yet. I have to survive."
His mind started to fight against his own death, searching for a way—any way—to stop his falling.
Then, his eyes caught the glint of his dagger.
Like a flash of lightning in the dark abyss, an idea struck him. A wild idea though...
With his left hand—the only part of his body still capable of movement—he gritted his teeth, tightened his grip around the hilt, and moved.
CLANG!
Metal met stone.
SKREEEEEECH!
A horrible screech resonated in the dark abyss as the dagger's tip scraped against the rock face. TSSSSHHH! Sparks erupted like a dying star, illuminating the sheer drop below.
The impact almost yanked his dagger from his grasp, wrenching his shoulder and sending a surge of agony throughout his entire body. His injuries cried out in anguish. His palms burst open, tender skin ripping as he was clinging to life.
But he didn't let go.
He couldn't.
His mind screamed at him—Hang on! If you let go, you will perish.
Kael's descent slowed, but not sufficiently. His falling momentum still dragged him downward, his dagger carving a jagged straight path along the rock wall.
But his hold started to weaken.
THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.
His heart pounded like a battle drum, drowning out the deafening roar of the wind. His fingers were losing their grip. His blurred vision turned dark. His body weakened.
No.
With sheer will alone, he compelled himself to survey his surroundings. He had mere seconds—maybe less—before his hold finally slipped away.
The cliff stretched endlessly below, presenting nothing but stillness.
Next, he noticed it.
An opportunity.
A solitary branch.
Emerging from the mountain face, contorted and distorted, jutting out from the cliffside just a few meters away.
It was his only means of survival. The only barrier separating him from the solitary branch was the abyss below.
He needed to get there for his survival.
His muscles ached. His strength was nearly depleted. However, there were no options.
Shift or perish.
Disregarding the intense agony, he pressed his leg against the stone. His knees wobbled, threatening to buckle, his entire body trembling from exhaustion.
Every nerve of his body was screaming at him to release it.
To surrender.
To die.
But Kael's mind was not prepared to die.
Not yet.
Not at the age fourteen.
A boy who had lost his love once.
A child who had turned into an orphan.
A boy who fled from his house.
His mind was already on the edges of breakdown.
He had to survive.
With one last surge of his strength, he pushed off the cliff face, launching himself toward the limb.
For a second, suspended moment, the world slowed.
A solitary silhouette, weightless, challenging the deep abyss.
And then—
WHAM!
Impact.
The impact transmitted waves of agony throughout his battered body.
His rib broke.
Or at least, that's how it seemed.
Agony pierced through his chest as his body collided with the thick branch. His cloak caught, the fabric constricting around his neck for a frightening instant—
RRRIP!
—before ripping away. His breath escaped him in a strangled gasp, harsh and monstrous.
But his left hand darted forward instinctively, fingers probing—grabbing—for something firm.
GRRCH!
His ragged, bloodstained fingertips pressed into the coarse bark.
His legs scrambled for support, wrapping around the branch in a desperate attempt to anchor himself.
For a brief moment, his body teetered on the edge of survival and failure.
Then—stability.
A fragile, trembling smile stretched across his face.
He was no longer falling anymore.
He was not dying.
For the time being.
Just for the time being.
The future remained ambiguous—forever ambiguous.
Yet at this moment, he was alive.
Alive.
His breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. Every part of his body throbbed with fatigue, agony, and sheer fear.
His left arm trembled. His fingers hardly responded to the commands of his spirit.
He was unable to move. He could not let go.
Thus, he did not.
Gradually, shakily, he positioned himself as well as he could, shifting into a sitting stance on the branch. His bare skin pressed against the coarse bark, slicing into his flesh.
Blood trickled from his fingers, blending with the perspiration that covered his whole body. His chest rose and fell.
His heartbeat raced loudly in his ears.
But he was alive.
That was everything that counted.
His dagger, coated in blood, momentarily slipped in his grip before he secured it tightly against his body.
It was all that remained for him.
His thoughts fluctuated. His body shouted in opposition. His vision became hazy.
He was unable to continue.
He had gone past his boundaries—well past.
No person should have suffered what he did in just one night.
His body leaned forward, his hold instinctively tightening.
Even as his consciousness diminished, he held on.
The wind howled through the abyss like a chorus of icy blades, cutting into his bare skin.
His blood grew cold, his bones became rigid.
His body shook from the strain of merely clinging on.
Even in a state of unconsciousness, his grip remained firm.
He held onto the branch though it was his sole means of survival.
Because it was.
His instinct to survive refused to let go, refused to surrender to the cold embrace of death.
His fingers remained intertwined. His body wrapped tightly around the branch, resisting the abyss as he slept.
And beneath him, the darkness of the ravine remained.
Endless. Awaiting.
Silence.
But he did not fall.
Because even when confronted with death——
He battled.
He endured.
He survived.
And when dawn finally arrived, it would only bring additional suffering.