"There's one right behind you…"
Dorian cleared his throat. "Ahem. That's a mockingbird."
"Well, I'm gonna mock you when that mutant 'mockingbird' rips you apart!" Talon barked, flipping effortlessly from branch to branch, his voice cutting through the trembling leaves.
Dorian followed—one flip, two—then SNAP.
The branch betrayed him. He screamed as the forest floor yawned wide, eager to swallow him like a hatchling being fed worms by its mother's beak.
"I got you!" Talon grunted, catching him mid-fall. His shoulder seared, muscles tearing like paper under the strain. Dorian's weight dragged him down, and he couldn't risk shifting grips—the vine in his other hand was the only lifeline.
"Talon! The level is closing! We're gonna die!" Dorian burst into tears—fake, desperate, and utterly useless in that moment.
"Shut up, twig! I'm thinking!" Talon snarled, teeth clenched.
"Twigs don't talk!"
"You're not helping!"
"I'm not even skinny!" Dorian snapped back.
"I swear I'm dropping you—" CRACK. The branch groaned, moments from shattering.
Talon's eyes darted across the collapsing world. Branches snapped. Roots vanished into the sinking ground. If he hesitated, they'd both be ground food.
"Reach for that vine!" he shouted.
"What?"
"The vine, you big-mouthed sack of bricks!" Talon swung Dorian, building momentum.
"That's a Greenbrier, idiot! It's covered in thorns—it won't hold me! I mean, sure it offers climbing support and ecological—"
"Just grab it!" Talon roared, hurling him toward the thorny lifeline.
The branch gave way as Talon leapt clear. The ground convulsed. Trees sank like weary giants retreating into the earth.
Dorian latched onto a branch, palms bleeding, sobbing through clenched teeth. "Talon! What do we do?!"
Talon's gaze swept the collapsing forest. Ideas flickered and died too fast to hold. Then—clarity.
"The flag. Run for it."
"What?!"
"Run for the f*cking flag!" Talon bolted, sprinting across what branches remained.
Dorian stumbled after him, slower, clumsier, his legs burning.
"Keep up!" Talon barked, waving him forward. But the crash loomed too close, devouring the level behind Dorian.
Talon spun back. He knew he'd never outrun it alone—Dorian would die, and so would he if he wasted time. There was only one insane option.
He swept Dorian up, slinging him onto his shoulder in one fluid motion. His spine screamed. His chest split with fire. Still, he ran. Faster. Harder.
His vision blurred. Blood filled his mouth. His nose gushed like a ruptured spring.
Dorian's weight presses deep into his bones as he tried to run faster than the destruction behind him
"Talon, stop! Save yourself!" Dorian sobbed, choking on his own panic.
"Not… happening…" Talon wheezed. "We're… gonna… make it."
The flag burned ahead, their last salvation. The ground dissolved beneath his boots, turning to sinking sand. Every step dragged him down. Every step was pain.
Dorian stretched his arm forward, fingers trembling, reaching for hope, for survival, for another chance.
Closer. Closer.
The level roared, consuming the world behind them. Sand swallowed their legs.
SPLASH.
The game crashed in around them, dragging them down screaming.
In desperation, Dorian seized a fragment of collapsing ground, swung upward, and just barely—caught the flag.
Light exploded. The chaos blurred, then vanished, swallowed by white brilliance.
Dorian collapsed, weeping with relief. He kissed the solid ground beneath him. "We made it, Talon!" he cried, laughing and sobbing at once.
He turned, arms open to embrace his friend.
"Talon?"
Silence.
Terror flooded his veins. His body trembled, soaked in sweat.
"Talon!" His voice cracked, splintered into a scream. "TALON!"