They walked for three days before the landscape began to change. The sand gave way to a fine, ash-like substance. The cavern had never been small, but now it felt truly unfathomable. The cliffside walls that once enclosed the river abruptly ended, revealing a sprawling forest of tall, curving trees.
The ceiling—which had always been hard to spot through the darkness—vanished entirely, giving way to a vast and impossible void above.
But that wasn't the most impressive thing.
All three of them stopped and stared, breath caught in their throats.
Protruding from the towering trees were colossal bones—an enormous ribcage rising from the gloom like ivory spires piercing the abyss. Glowing moss and patches of fungi clung to the ribs, casting a dim bioluminescent shimmer, yet the bone itself remained an untouched, immaculate white.
The river roared beside them, still carving its way forward—toward what they hoped would be a First Finger.
The forest was lit by strange fruits hanging from the branches, glowing like lanterns. They looked delicious, but Elion knew better. Their inviting glow, their perfect shape—clear signs of a trap. Consumption would likely mean death.
There were distant rustlings—leaves shivering, faint screeches echoing from the darkness. Elion's gut tightened.
Some trees bent over the river in graceful arches, their leaves drifting down into the rushing water. At one point, Farha slipped away alone to relieve herself in the woods. When she returned, she was holding a small, slithering centipede between her fingers. She pointed at it, then at her neck, her expression unreadable.
What… is she trying to say?
It was barely a centimeter long, but Elion recoiled instinctively. Eshrod, of course, reached out to poke it. The creature tried to slither up her arm and bite her, but its fangs couldn't pierce her hardened skin. With a swift motion, she crushed it.
Farha relaxed only slightly, her posture less straight than usual.
She wasn't scared of the bug. That's not like her. So why did she seem… shaken?
The rest of the day passed without incident. They set up camp near the river, lighting a fire from dry branches scavenged in the forest. It was risky, but after three cold nights without warmth, they needed it.
Elion sat near the fire, watching the flames flicker.
"Don't you think it's odd nothing has come out of the forest to eat us?" he asked.
"Wouldn't you want something to eat you?" Eshrod smirked.
Deep breath, ignore her.
"It is a little strange," she admitted, shifting. "But the Depths aren't just monsters waiting behind every tree. Maybe luck's on our side for once."
"Luck, huh," Elion muttered. "Never had much of that."
Eshrod caught the bitter note in his voice.
"You did. Or you'd be dead," she said. "You washed ashore with Farha. You couldn't even walk. What were the odds of surviving that river?"
She tore a bite from her ration bar—tough and flavorless after they'd eaten the last of the meat from the ruined temple.
"If we didn't have luck, none of us would be here," she added. "So stop whining."
"Geez, what are you—my dad?"
"God, no! If I were, you wouldn't be that scrawny… or that stupid," she said in mock offense.
You're the most stupid one here!
"Right…" Elion sighed.
A quiet settled between them. Eshrod poked at the fire with a stick. Farha sat, her chin resting on her knees, arms wrapped tightly around her legs. The firelight danced in her crimson eyes.
Elion stood up and stepped away.
"Where are you going?" Eshrod asked.
"To wash up. Who knows when we'll get another fire to dry off."
She stared at him for a moment.
"Alright, don't get swept away. And don't take too long—or I'm coming after you."
She really thinks she's my dad now?
He gave her a blank look.
"What?" she said. "Go on. What are you waiting for?"
"Shut up…"
She stifled a laugh. Farha didn't move, her gaze still lost in the fire.
Elion walked into the trees, guided by the eerie light of the glowing fruits. He set his jacket, shirt, and pants over a branch, examining the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his body. The glyphs had faded to a dim, colorless outline.
He peeled them off, one by one, and looked down at himself. Most of his wounds had healed, but his pale skin was stained dark red, and he stank of rot and sweat.
The river was too fast for a full bath, so he scooped water in his hands and washed himself slowly. Each splash sent cold needles into his flesh.
Hot showers… I knew I'd miss them, but not this much.
Elion was putting his pants back on, disregarding the fact that he was soaking wet. His right leg was in the hole when he heard a rustling sound above him.
A creature fell from the trees. It looked somewhat humanoid, with four crooked arms and no lower jaw, making its head look like that of a leech.
It might have been frightening if it weren't so small—barely reaching Elion's waist—and stumbling like a drunk. It swayed on its feet, as if trying to grab something invisible with its four hands. It was completely disoriented, not even calculating his presence.
The Voice of God whispered:
[Class: I]
Elion took a step back, pulling his pants up, reaching for his sword.
Sweet, free Soul Integrity.
The thing froze.
Is it… dead?
It stood still. Then it straightened like a puppet tugged by invisible strings, its eyes remaining unblinking.
[Class: III]
What?! How?!
Elion activated his ability. The creature's threads should have been simple—but something was wrong. A second core pulsed in its neck. From it, black tendrils reached up into its brain and body, taking hold of the creature's nerves and thoughts.
It turned toward him, its drooling jaw-less mouth gaping.
"Shit!" he cursed, grabbing his jacket and shirt while running toward camp.
It chased after him, steps fast and erratic. A claw sliced the air near his ribs, but Elion blocked with his sword. The blow, which was supposed to be quite light, considering the size of his attacker, sent him flying back.
The creature was stronger than it looked—its glowing threads flaring too bright.
He picked himself up, firelight flickering in the distance. He dashed through the leaves, appearing in front of the two women.
Farha sat unmoving. Elion glanced at her with his ability, and froze.
Something dark pulsed in her neck, just like the creature. It was growing, trying to reach her brain, somewhat pushed back by something.
"You couldn't even get dressed? Trying to show off to the ladies?" Eshrod teased.
"We don't have time for this!" Elion shouted. "There's a Class III—and Farha—"
A shadow flew overhead, branches rustling.
The gremlin-like creature crashed down, claws aimed to tear Elion's back—only for Eshrod to punch it mid-air, crushing its skull.
She flung the vile blood off her hand in disgust.
"That was the Class III you were so scared of?"
"It's not dead!" Elion yelled.
The creature twitched—then lunged, faster than before. Its shattered skull was misshapen, and its muscles bulged with parasitic strength.
"You have to pierce the neck!" Elion shouted. "That's where the core is!"
He threw his sword to Eshrod since she was better with the blade. She caught it easily, spinning into the fight.
He glanced at Farha's unmoving form despite the chaos, gritting his teeth.
Eshrod was locked into an intense battle against the gremlin—Gremlin against gremlin, really.
She danced with the steel, and to Elion's surprise, the thing was keeping up. But it was still too immature, its movements were clumsy—like a newborn forced into a fight. It made a stupid mistake, not calculating Eshrod's free hand. It shot forward, gleaming in the firelight, wrapping around its neck. At the same time, her sword pierced it, causing the body to go limp.
There were some bloodied scratches on her body, but none looked too serious.
"Whew, felt a little weak for a Class III."
"It was just born. But that's not what's important right now!" Elion's voice tightened. "Farha…"
She still hadn't moved. Not even a twitch.
Eshrod's smile faded.
"Why didn't she—"
"She's possessed by some kind of parasite," Elion interrupted. "It's in her neck. I doubt we can extract it without killing her…"
Eshrod looked at him like he'd just spoken another language. Then she saw the look on his face—and went still.
"What do we do, then?" she asked, voice low.
"I don't know! I don't fucking know!" Elion snapped. "Maybe we can find another one—try to extract the core, figure it out—"
"We don't have time!" Eshrod barked. "Look at her!"
Farha's eyes were glassy, her skin turning paler than usual, her lips almost blue.
"Then what do you suggest?!"
"I don't know! You're the one with all the fancy sight powers—you tell me!"
Elion raked a hand through his hair, eyes wild.
"We go with my plan."
Eshrod met his gaze, her expression twisted by urgency. She nodded sharply, not finding a better option before grabbing the three packs around the fire.
"Fine. You carry her. We can't leave her alone here."
Elion carefully lifted Farha. Her body was still tense, but barely responsive. He hoisted her onto his back. She slumped forward, unmoving, her skin colder than it should have been.
Without another word, the two of them ran into the dark forest, Elion carrying Farha—hoping to find a cure before it was too late.