Time dissolved into the monotonous sound of water. Finn trudged along the current, mechanically moving his legs, no longer paying attention to the muscle pain. Each step merged with the previous one, turning into an endless chain of movements. The cave walls, illuminated by the dim light of the tulwar, seemed identical – the same ledges, the same cracks, the same damp streaks.
"How much time has passed?" – this question periodically surfaced in his clouded consciousness.
Hours or minutes – the difference had blurred in the underground darkness. The sounds did not change: the same sound of running water, the echo of his own footsteps, occasional drops falling from the ceiling. Nothing indicated that he was moving forward. It seemed as if the cave existed outside of time and space.
"Maybe I'm walking in circles?" – this thought first occurred to him when he noticed a familiar protrusion on the wall.
Finn stopped, peering at the stone surface. Didn't he see the same curve... an hour ago? Or two? How long had he been walking? His memory refused to provide clear answers, offering only blurred images of endless stone corridors.
"No, it's impossible..." – he shook his head, trying to drive away the intrusive thoughts.
The river flowed in one direction – this was the only reliable landmark. It couldn't flow in a circle, which meant he couldn't be walking in circles either. But the longer Finn walked, the stronger the feeling that something was wrong became. The walls seemed to repeat themselves, creating the illusion of standing still.
"I should have arrived somewhere by now..." – uncertainty crept into his soul.
Fatigue dulled his senses, making him doubt the reality of what was happening. Maybe it was all a dream? Maybe he was still lying unconscious among the bodies of the killed monsters? Finn reached out his hand, touching the cold stone – no, too real for a dream.
Step by step, meter by meter – the movement turned into a mechanical action that required no conscious control. His body moved on its own, while his mind wandered through labyrinths of anxious thoughts. The tulwar in his hand seemed heavier and heavier, its light – weaker and weaker.
"What if there's no way out?" – this thought struck unexpectedly, making him stumble.
Finn froze, leaning against the damp wall. What if these tunnels were endless? What if he was doomed to wander here forever until his strength finally ran out? Panic began to rise from within, squeezing his throat with an icy grip.
"No-no-no..." – he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to cope with the growing fear.
The water continued to flow, indifferent to his suffering. Its sound now seemed like a mockery – it knew the way out, but it wasn't going to share that knowledge. Finn opened his eyes, peering into the darkness ahead. The dim light of the sword snatched the same details from the gloom: damp stones, uneven floor, an endless tunnel.
"Maybe I should go back?" – doubt gnawed at him from within.
But the thought of returning was no less frightening. Behind him lay the bodies of monsters and memories of a mad battle. What if other creatures had already found this place? What if they were waiting for his return? No, there was no going back.
Finn forced himself to move on, although each step was a struggle. The backpack with trophies pulled him back, as if trying to stop him, to return him to the place of battle. But he stubbornly walked forward, refusing to give up.
"There must be a way out... there must be..." – these words became his new mantra.
Time turned into a viscous substance, enveloping his consciousness. Finn no longer tried to count his steps or note changes in the wall's relief. Everything merged into one endless moment – a step, another step, the sound of water, dim light, damp stone.
"Am I going crazy?" – sometimes this thought broke through the fog of fatigue.
Reality began to blur at the edges. Sometimes Finn thought he saw movement in the shadows, heard whispers behind the sound of water. But as soon as he looked more closely – the visions disappeared, leaving behind only an unpleasant residue.
The tunnel walls seemed to close in around him, creating a sense of entrapment. Each new turn looked exactly like the previous one, each protrusion seemed familiar. Finn began to notice details that he thought he had seen before.
"Is this the same crack?" – he stopped, examining a fissure in the stone.
A characteristic pattern, resembling a lightning bolt, stretched from floor to ceiling. Finn could swear he had seen the same one a... few hours? minutes? ago. Or was it his imagination? Fatigue made it difficult to think clearly, turning simple observations into agonizing riddles.
"Am I definitely moving forward?" – doubt gnawed at him more and more.
The river remained the only constant, but even it began to seem suspicious. Maybe it was also part of some monstrous deception? Maybe these dungeons were playing with him, forcing him to wander in a closed circle?
Finn ran his hand over his face, wiping away sweat. His skin burned as if with a fever. Maybe the wounds had started to become inflamed? Or was it just fatigue? His thoughts were confused, refusing to form a clear picture.
"I just need to walk..." – he tried to focus on movement.
But each new step only intensified the feeling of futility of this journey. The tunnel seemed endless, the walls – identical, time – frozen. Finn felt himself slowly losing touch with reality.
The sound of water turned into a monotonous song, hypnotizing, drawing his consciousness into its depths. Maybe this is how one goes mad? Slowly, step by step, losing the line between reality and nightmare?
"I'll find a way out... I must find one..." – but even these thoughts now sounded uncertain.
The tulwar in his hand glowed weaker and weaker, as if reflecting the fading hope of its owner. Finn continued to walk, but each step became more difficult, as if the dungeons themselves resisted his movement.
Time lost all meaning in this endless journey. Minutes stretched into hours, hours compressed into seconds. The only landmark remaining was the river, but even it now seemed like part of some monstrous deception.
"Maybe I'm dead?" – this thought did not evoke fear, only weary curiosity.
Perhaps this was the afterlife – an endless wandering through underground tunnels? Finn almost smiled at this thought – it seemed as real as everything else in this place.
The walls continued to slide past, indistinguishable from each other. Time continued to flow – or stand still, who knew for sure? And Finn continued to walk, because to stop meant to admit defeat, to admit the power of this place over him.
"I'll get out..." – but he no longer believed these words.
Fatigue grew stronger, turning each step into a real ordeal. Finn no longer tried to keep his back straight – his shoulders slumped under the weight of the backpack, his head bowed, his gaze fixed on the stone floor in front of him. His movements became slower and slower, as if time had thickened around him.
"Just a little more... just a little more..." – but these words no longer gave him strength.
His consciousness began to cloud over, reality shimmered with a haze. Sometimes Finn caught himself continuing to walk with his eyes closed – his body moved on its own, while his mind plunged into short moments of oblivion. These micro-sleeps became longer and deeper.
"What am I doing? Where am I going?" — his thoughts tangled, dissolving into the fog of fatigue.
He stumbled more and more often, struggling to maintain his balance each time. His legs felt as if they were filled with lead, refusing to obey the commands of his exhausted brain. The tulwar in his hand seemed too heavy to lift, its light reduced to a barely perceptible flicker.
"I need... to stop..." — but fear drove him forward.
Finn could no longer determine how much time had passed since the start of this endless journey. Hours? Days? Time had lost all meaning in this realm of eternal darkness. Only the sound of water remained constant, mesmerizing, lulling.
Another bout of sleep overtook him mid-stride. His eyes closed on their own, his consciousness drifting. Finn continued to move, but now his path resembled that of a sleepwalker – uncertain steps, swaying, a complete lack of control over his body.
"Where am I?" — rare glimmers of awareness pierced through his drowsiness.
Reality and dream intertwined, creating a bizarre tapestry of images and sensations. Sometimes Finn felt as if he were walking on a green meadow under a bright sun, sometimes as if he were floating in an infinite void. But each return to reality was more painful than the last.
His legs moved slower and slower, as if sinking into an invisible swamp. Each step required immense effort, each movement echoed with pain throughout his body. Finn no longer tried to fight sleep – he simply let his body move on autopilot.
"Maybe this is the end?" — the thought slipped through the veil of fatigue.
Another wave of drowsiness washed over him suddenly. His eyes closed, his knees buckled, and his body began to fall forward. At that moment, the river's current, which had been calm and measured until then, suddenly changed. The flow gained strength, its murmur turning into a roar.
"What's happening?" — his consciousness tried to break through the fog of fatigue.
But it was too late. His foot slipped on a wet stone, his balance completely lost. Finn was falling, unable to change anything. Time seemed to slow down, stretching the moment of his fall into eternity.
The cold water hit him, knocking the last of the air from his lungs. The current caught him, like a feather, and pulled him forward with unexpected force. Finn tried to resist, but his exhausted body refused to obey.
"No... not like this..." — panic finally broke through the fatigue.
The river carried him, spun him, tossed him from side to side. Water poured into his mouth and nose, making it difficult to breathe. His backpack pulled him down, transforming from a simple burden into a deadly weight. The tulwar slipped from his weakened fingers, its faint glow dissolving into the darkness.
Finn tried to stay afloat, but the current grew stronger. He was thrown against rocks, spun in whirlpools, dragged into the depths. His lungs burned from lack of air, his muscles cramped from the cold.
"Air... I need air..." — this thought pulsed in his fading consciousness.
Another bend in the river threw him onto a rock protruding from the water. The impact was so strong that the last of the air left his lungs. Darkness began to creep in from all sides, shrinking the world to a single point.
The current caught him again, pulling him further. Finn no longer resisted – he had no strength left. His consciousness flickered like a dying candle, ready to extinguish at any moment. The cold seeped into his bones, his movements becoming increasingly sluggish.
"This is the end..." — the thought was surprisingly calm.
The river roared around him, transforming from a quiet companion into a ruthless killer. Somewhere ahead, the noise grew louder, as if water was falling from a height. A waterfall? Rapids? Finn could no longer think about it – his body was numb from the cold, his mind clouded by lack of oxygen.
The last thing he felt was the tug of the current, pulling him into the unknown. And then, darkness fell.