An aberration of smoke filled the cells, blinding slashes hit the bars of the two women and a few words were exchanged, "Took you long enough," "Yes, we had to prepare everything," Then the smoke faded, in the eyes of the group the two women were gone. Released by cuts and slashes to the bars of iron.
Himmel sulked, he was the only of the three still awake. Minutes passed, the smoke began to fade more, nothing was left. But then a figure came walking to them, they were large, armored and beautiful. The same eyes, it was the large woman in the cell, but she looked healthy, her muscles plump. Everything about her changed, "Here, feed your allies these potions." Then the cages were pryed open.
"Thank you for singing for us," She said as she caressed Texans chocolate skin.
She left without a word, Himmel stood for a moment to watch but he moved on. He fed Texan and Recon the potions then drank one himself. They were fully revitalized, "Wake up we have to move." Himmel said and they began to move.
As they finally left the area of the cages, they noticed the tunnel, there was blood yet no bodies. There was a fight yet no weapons on the ground. The group who saved them left no traces. The tunnel stretched narrow and twisting, lit by faint red crystals wedged into the walls. Their glow pulsed like a heartbeat, casting long shadows that warped as they moved.
They reached a rusted metal door. Himmel kicked it open and froze.
Inside lay an armory—rows of containers opened and showed remnants where armor and weapons should've been. The air was thick with oil and iron, and the faint tang of blood. Still no bodies, looking up and down and around the room there were 3 unopened containers.
"Our gear," Texan breathed, sprinting forward. He ripped open the container and inside were Himmel's gear. His rings, glove, armor, key and all. Safe and sound almost as if they would've been sold later.
One by one each container held their items. Recon's hands trembled as he retrieved his bow, running a finger along the string as if reacquainting himself with a friend. "Oh, baby, I missed you."
Himmel found his sword resting atop a fine leather. He gripped it tight, the familiar weight grounding him. The blade was clean and taken care of, his axe not so much, it was treated like trash. But to Himmel, it is his prized possession.
"I can't believe they just left everything here," Texan muttered as he fitted himself back into his gauntlets.
"They thought we'd die in cages," Himmel said, sliding his blade into its scabbard. "They weren't entirely wrong."
They gathered everything—packs, weapons, coins, even Texan's now half-empty waterskin. Gumbo's tiny saddle, though, was nowhere to be found.
"Next room, we have to find Gumbo" Texan said. "We're not leaving without him."
Himmel and Recon completely understood, it would be like leaving their child. So they ran out quickly but there was a small and almost unbearable sound, it kept ticking.
The next hallway was stranger—brighter. Alchemical light danced along the walls from glass tubing embedded in the stone, filled with slow-moving blue liquid. The air smelled of chemicals, sweet and metallic.
They entered a small chamber filled with tables and instruments. Metal trays. Scattered parchment. And on a central pedestal—three potions.
One red. One green. One grey. Each sealed with wax and labeled in a language none of them recognized.
Texan tilted his head. "What the hell is this place?" He walked around the room carefully avoiding random liquid that lay on the ground.
"Lab," Himmel said, scanning the tables. "Whoever ran this prison wasn't sitting around doing nothing, they were planning something." Himmel grew anxious, the ticking grew slightly louder.
Recon picked up a quill that had fallen to the floor. The feather was soaked in dark fluid. He was curious about everything. Humans to him were the most mysterious creature, they were never straight forward. They held secrets from each other and harbored hatred.
Texan approached the potions, holding them against the light. The red one glowed faintly like liquid ember. The green shimmered with a slick oiliness. The grey looked dull, as if it absorbed the light around it.
"Well," Texan muttered, "whatever these are, they're definitely not wine."
Himmel turned to leave. "We don't have time to—"
A sound cut through the air. Muffled. A faint, rhythmic thump.
"...Did you hear that?" Recon whispered.
They followed the sound through another corridor, down a staircase wrapped in frost and shadow. This sound was different, not the ticking from before, it felt, dangerous. The thumping grew louder. And then they saw it.
The room was circular, lined with broken tubes and shattered glass canisters. Strange devices flickered with dying light. And in the center—encased in a glass cylinder—was Gumbo.
The baby rhino floated weightlessly in a pale-blue fluid, tiny bubbles rising around its small body. Wires were attached to its back, and the faint pulse of his heartbeat echoed through the fluid like a steady drum.
"Gumbo!" Texan's voice cracked. He rushed forward, pressing both palms against the glass.
The creature's eyes fluttered open weakly, a crystal in his chest giving an ominous glow.
"Those bastards…" Himmel muttered, examining the pipes running from the cylinder to a console. "They're draining his vitality."
Texan's hands shook. "Then we drain them." He gripped the console lever and yanked. The machine hissed violently. Alarms flickered to life, crimson light flashing against the walls. The liquid began to drain, swirling away into hidden pipes.
The cylinder cracked open with a hiss of steam. Texan caught Gumbo as he slumped forward, limp and cold.
"He's still breathing—but barely," Texan whispered. His eyes darted to the three potions clinking in his pack. "If any of these are health potions…"
He held up the red vial. It shimmered like molten ruby.
"Texan—don't," Himmel said sharply. "We don't know what it'll do."
Texan met his eyes. "We don't know if he'll survive if I don't."
For a moment, silence. Even the alarms felt muted. Then Texan bit the wax seal off with his teeth and poured the liquid gently into Gumbo's mouth.
The effect was instant. The baby's chest convulsed once, twice—then a faint golden glow radiated through its skin. The wounds closed. Its eyes fluttered open, gleaming clear and alive again.
Texan let out a shaky laugh. "Ha! I gambled right for once."
Gumbo bleated softly, pressing its small head against Texan's arm.
Himmel exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. "Alright. We've got him. Let's move before someone notices—"
They turned to leave. But in the distance—tick... tick... tick...
Recon froze. "Fuck its getting louder, I dont got a good feeling."
The sound came from somewhere deeper in the facility, faint but constant. Too regular to be machinery. Too sharp to ignore anymore.
Texan's brow furrowed. "That's… that's a bomb. It's gotta be."
Himmel's instincts screamed agreement. "No one lighthearted enough to imprison kids and beasts would leave clocks running. Let's move. Now."
"But what about those other rooms?" Recon pointed down a side corridor. "There could be notes, maps, hell—even answers."
"Answers won't matter if we're dust," Himmel snapped.
For a heartbeat, they all hesitated—torn between curiosity and survival. Then the ticking grew louder. Faster.
"Fuck it," Texan said, tightening his grip on Gumbo. "Let's go!"
They sprinted through the tunnels, boots hammering stone. The halls trembled now, small cracks running across the walls like veins. They passed the stairs, the alchemic room, the armory and their cages.
"Run, Run!" Himmel shouted as he dragged Recon who was the slowest out of the bunch. They made it out but they didn't stop, they went further into the snow, further up the mountains. Anywhere as along as it wasn't here.
Behind them, air pressure shifted—an unnatural stillness right before disaster. Then came the roar.
The explosion hit like the fury of gods. Fire burst down the corridor, ripping through walls, consuming air. The shockwave threw them forward; Himmel slammed into the ground, rolling. His ears rang. His eyes caught glimpses of flying debris, of Texan shielding Gumbo under his arms, of Recon diving behind a crumbling pillar.
Snow and dust erupted from the tunnel mouth as they stumbled out into daylight. The mountain shook as if alive. A column of fire burst from an opening behind them, turning the falling snow into steam. Even after hundreds of feet away, the blast still shook them hard.
The facility was gone—nothing but collapsing rock and rising smoke.
They staggered down the slope, coughing, their silhouettes outlined by orange light. Gumbo bleated weakly, his tiny body pressed to Texan's chest.
Recon spat into the snow, breathing hard. "We left those rooms… all that information…"
"Yeah," Himmel said, staring back at the inferno. His voice was quiet, but resolute. "And we're still alive because of it."
The flames reflected in his eyes as he turned away. "Let's keep moving. Whatever that place was… someone didn't want us finding it."
The mountain wind screamed, carrying ash and snow together like ghosts.