For a very long time, nothing happened. Things laid as they were, and it felt as if nothing would ever happen again. Despite the rumbling and hustling that the cave once had, the moment that everything stopped seemed to be the exact moment where time itself froze into place. There was so much life before, and now the consequences of death became salient. No one spoke. No one moved. No one even dared to breathe too loudly, as this quietude enveloped them all.
No one did anything.
In Henry's case, he was particularly fazed by all the noise before, and he discovered that his ears rang loudly for several minutes straight, until they behaved as they usually did. His sight was dizzying, too, and he kept his eyes open—the most he had done in a single day up until now—as he stared blankly at a particular jewel embedded in the ceiling. It was cracked heavily on one side, but still held together in a whole piece. It was deep red in color, and so reminiscent of blood. That thought alone was enough to keep him entranced in its beauty, and so he stared at that singular color for quite some time.
When his eyes finally hurt from being strained for so long, he was forced to avert his gaze. He stared at his hands and examined them several times over. They were dirty and bloodied, just as he imagined them to be. He tried to move them in a feeble attempt to regain full functionality of his body, but the fingers only curled in slightly on themselves, and made no further effort than that. He struggled in moving, and his attempts manifested in the form of anxious shakes that racked his whole body with fear and hesitation. He felt short of breath, and so he breathed in deeply, before taking a short break in his process of restarting himself.
This was going to be much harder than he thought it would be.
After a few more minutes, Henry tried a second time to bring life into his hands, and he nearly screamed triumphantly when he could raise his entire right arm into the air. He forced the other arm to follow the same motions, and before he knew it, he was pulling himself up from his position on the ground. The instant he did so, his vision swam and his head whirled with uncertainty. His back ached (Stupid rocks, he thought bitterly), his legs stung, and he felt imbalanced, like he was on a rocky boat out at sea, instead.
He cursed (non-lethally, of course) under his breath, and fell to his knees after a few seconds of standing upright to try and steady himself further. It worked for the most part, and when he glanced up, he could see one of his allies just an arm's length away from his body. Judging from the fragmented cage wire and splash of gold cloth, he figured that it was Princess Lissa. He always compared her to a bird, unintentionally, and if that were the case then this was the first time he saw her wings properly clipped. A streak of red stained her back, and leaked through what must have been expensive silk clothing.
Her regality was completely messed up, now, but he still had to admire her style. He crawled towards her, unable to walk just yet. As he moved closer to her, he was pleased to see that she was still alive, if her slowly-rising chest was any indication of such. With shaky hands, Henry reached out, and gently shook her body. Gradually, Lissa began to stir, and her steely eyes opened slowly to adjust to the surroundings. She sat up with some difficulty—a few minutes passed before she was finally upright—and when she did, Henry carefully held her shoulders to try and steady her.
He beamed at her. "Hey, you're still alive!" the words came out gravelly, and he cleared his throat before continuing (he definitely swallowed an actual rock just now and that was as cool as it was disgusting). "I was thinking that the explosion blew you apart into little princess bits, but it's cool that it didn't!"
She scoffed, and weakly raised her hand to slap his face. Her soft hands felt dirty and calloused, and he barely moved at the slight contact of her trembling fingers. "Seriously? Now's not—" her voice cracked, and she had a tiny coughing fit before continuing to speak— "the time for jokes. Especially your jokes. It's too early to celebrate, anyway! W-We could have died!"
"But we didn't!" Henry reminded her happily. "From what I can see, I'm alive, you're alive, Miriel over there is alive—somehow writing in that silly book of hers, still—and Anna's alive, too! So it's not too bad." He reported all of his observations gleefully as he looked over Lissa's shoulders, where he could see the two women moving slowly on their lonesome.
"Then the others are on the opposite side?" Lissa stared at the formidable wall next to them, hopeful at first but then deflated at the impossible idea of breaking through. "Oh, that's just great. Maribelle's probably freaking out about me now."
"Yeah, if she isn't dead. I mean, I can only account for what I see and what I see is us four. Maybe the others got crushed under the rubble. Wanna start shoveling to find out?"
"Henry!" She screamed, and slapped him even harder this time. He recoiled and fell on his ass, but she ignored him and continued. "What's wrong with you? Don't say stuff like that!"
"He's not wrong at all," Miriel defended, stumbling her way over to join her injured allies. Her composed face was somewhat comforting to see, but at the same time it was unnerving as she seemed unaffected by what just happened. She added on to her earlier statement with strict analysis. "Statistically speaking, if there are no deaths between our two groups, then the probability of mild to serious injury is very high. And there is no telling how much space this wall takes up on their side. So they could be alive for now but suffocated later. Perhaps they're screaming for help this very moment and their voices are unable to penetrate through the thickness of the barrier." Her bespectacled gaze flickered towards the wall, and there was a tiny glint of sympathy found in her darkened eyes. "That's very possible, too."
"You're making it worse," Lissa croaked. "Please stop."
"I'm with the princess," Anna agreed. "Don't just talk about what might happen. Why don't we get up and see the developments for ourselves?" Her tone was bright and cheery, but her body wobbled greatly. Her impeccably red trickster garb was also torn in several places—especially in those that revealed the extent of her injuries in dark red wounds, festering in their own pain and injury. It looked like it hurt a lot, but she put on a brave face.
Henry could relate so much to that. He tried to stand up, again, and was able to get to his feet before he had to lean against the nearby wall for support. His hands pressed uncomfortably into the soft, earthen surface and he trembled for a moment before finally righting himself. He managed to stand still for ten seconds, at least, and for that he was proud.
"Let's go, then!" Henry said. "What do we have to lose?"
"Our lives," Lissa reminded him in a deadpan. "But alright. It's better than doing nothing." She slowly rose to her feet but immediately keeled over in her haziness. Henry's arms instinctively reached out to grab her, and he propped her against the wall for more support.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, thank you," she muttered to him. "I'm...still dizzy, it seems."
"Aren't we all?" Anna laughed weakly. "That's alright, though. You take your time. We should all take some time to get ourselves straight. Right, Miriel?"
"Of course," she answered immediately, not wanting to seem weak in this situation—despite the tremor in her hands that implied otherwise. "I'm as content with this situation as I can possibly be. Shall we head off, then?" Her eyes stared downward into the tunnel, looking back and forth between the two different directions. She didn't remember which way they came from, but she felt like it hardly mattered in a time like this.
Luckily, the rest of the group started moving on their own accord, and she didn't have to make the choice herself. Miriel lagged behind the others, however, as she began to furiously write in the margins of the torn pages in her remaining books. They were records, observations, studies, and the like—and in some cases she may admit that some of the entries were very similar to common diaries—but all in all, she wrote a single sentence at the very top.
Evening, now. it read. Hope revives itself from the ashes.
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On the other side of the barrier was what remained of the original group of Shepherds. Gaius, unfortunately, was conscious throughout the entire ordeal. His body laid spread-eagle on the ground, and his eyes fixated on a particularly bright green gem buried in the ceiling. His mind was a puzzle whose pieces fell apart one by one. As he stayed there, unmoving, his mental processes began to work themselves back into one big, coherent picture. Until then, he found that staring into that jewel's verdant light was very helpful and comforting.
When his thoughts started making sense, at last, he dreaded the fact that this all happened because he decided to be merciful in a single scenario. Why, out of all the blokes in that cave, did the one Gaius decided to spare end up being the one to screw them over like this? What happened to common sense and decency, these days? He was so embarrassed about this development, he resolved within himself that if anyone asked them how it happened later on, he would lie through his teeth and say that he had no idea. The fact that this was a personal blunder on his end was more shameful than anything.
For now, though, he could only focus on survival. He knew for sure that Henry was out of reach—he saw the boy's injured gaze across the way only moments ago. There was no use in worrying about him, for now. So once Gaius became lucid enough, he decided he would tend to the allies that were within reach.
A few moments later, and he felt inspired to start moving. He sat up carefully, as fresh stings of pain and exhaustion seared his body with his every movement. Near his feet, he saw Maribelle. The duchess was unconscious by the looks of it, and her golden tresses splayed from out behind her in dirty, tangled clumps. He could see that her pretty pink personage was stained dirty brown, alongside a sickeningly shade of red. He flinched at the thought of her dying, which seemed more and more likely as he examined her wounds—the fresh cuts on her arms, the bruises on her face. There's no way that she's actually dead, though, right?
There was only one way to find out. Cautiously, he inched forward, crawling at first since she was so close to him that he didn't even need to stand. He exhaled in relief as he witnessed the slow rise-and-fall of her chest. Maribelle was alive! She was sickly, pale, but still alive. Gaius gently shook her body, but she didn't even stir at his movements. He pulled her up to try and get her to sit on her own accord, but she slumped over like a sack of potatoes, and collapsed into his sore arms.
He groaned. Of all the times to clock out, Twinkles, did you have to do it now? As soon as he thought that, he felt guilty, and reprimanded himself for being so negative in such a trying time. While he knew he shouldn't blame her for her sudden blackout—especially considering what had just happened to all of them—he wished it didn't happen at such an important place in time. He didn't have smelling salts or anything that could forcibly wake her up, and the longer she stayed unconscious, the more danger she left herself in.
"That's no way to do it," a mirthless voice called out to him, one that Gaius recognized as belonging to Tharja. He sensed that she was standing over the two of them, but he didn't even glance at her as he kept his attention on Maribelle.
"Then what do you suppose we do, Sunshine?"
"Obviously, I'll have to curse her awake. She can take a royal beauty nap later, when our prospects aren't so...grim." Although she was visibly annoyed by Maribelle's condition, Tharja also sounded highly concerned for their situation. It surprised him to know this because he figured that she would be the type of person to accept their fate, due to her usually gloomy and negative disposition.
Even Tharja didn't want to die, so that said a lot about their current dilemma. Gaius sighed. "Your curse isn't gonna hurt her, is it? While she's annoying as all hell, I'd rather she get through this with us in one piece."
"Ha, you think I don't already know that?" Tharja hissed at him, more offended by his baseless assumption than anything else. "The curse I have in mind will keep her awake...perhaps a day or two longer than she'd like. But even a brute like you can agree with me when I say that having her up and miserable is much better than having to drag her sleeping body around." Her eyes were piercing, but not furious. He respected the strength in her gaze, for once, as he locked eyes with her and met her resolve with his own.
He gave into the darkness when he saw an absence of malice. Consenting to her arrangement, Gaius stood up to make way for her. He forced his jelly-like legs to move, and stumbled out of Tharja's path as she got to work.
The dark mage rolled her neck, stretched her arms, reached into her pouch for something essential. Just as she was about to pull it out, however, something else intervened.
"Wait!" Another voice shouted. Gaius hardly recognized it, but a name was starting to form in his head to go along with the worried sound. Ricken is his name, right? Friend of Junior's, if I'm not mistaken.
And he wasn't mistaken at all, as Ricken himself bounded over to the three of them, while adjusting the overly large hat on his head. It obscured his face at a tilted angle, but even in the shadows the others could see the deeply etched concern on his face. "Tharja, I think you and Henry were talking about curses earlier, right?"
"Yes, that's correct," she confirmed. "What of it?"
"Well, don't you need a-a sacrifice for the curse to work better?" He shuddered at the thought, and pulled feebly at the edge of his sleeves for some semblance of comfort. "I don't see any animals around here, so I'm not sure how that's going to play out."
"Lucky for us, then, because I've already gained a sacrifice beforehand. A borrowed one it may be, but it'll serve us well." She produced the small squirrel carcass that Henry insisted she have earlier. The cadaver was originally lying in the entrance in the cave, and during that time, Henry rambled on about divination, and how he had a deep feeling that Tharja would need the sacrifice later on.
He was right, as insufferable and annoying as he may have been about the matter. Tharja thought darkly to herself that she should purposely avoid thanking him on her own accord, but if that fool ever brought it up again, she would confess that his offering did come in handy like he said it would.
But maybe that initial denial was too cruel, even for her. Someone as forthright and proactive about learning new things and coming up with results like Tharja would know better than to keep secrets all the time. She supposed that if she somehow survived this whole ordeal, she would tell Henry of her gratitude in full.
That resolve burned within her like a candle's flickering flame—to a point so strong that not even a hearty breath could put it out. As such, Tharja ignored both Gaius and Ricken as she focused on Maribelle. She placed the animal next to the duchess' body, and started muttering a dark incantation underneath her breath. A sickly yellow light enveloped the dead animal, and she garnered that light within her hands as if it were tangible. Then, she aimed her fingers in sorcerous motions at Maribelle. Upon doing so, the stream of gathered light shot forth like a bolt, and engulfed the duchess in her entirety.
Instantly, Maribelle awoke, but it was a violent process as she coughed and gasped frantically—roseate eyes blown wide with shock and disgust. She flailed for a moment, limbs going askew as she reached out for an edge that wasn't there. Then she realized herself, and sat up slowly, so as to right herself. A bead of sweat ran down her face, and in her fussy gaze, Gaius and Ricken noticed that she seemed highly energetic and awake, just like Tharja said she would be. Maribelle breathed wordlessly for a moment or so, then spoke out harshly against the tremors in her chest.
"What just happened?" She sounded incredulous, like she also couldn't believe she was awake right now. "What's going on?"
"You were sleeping. The explosion must have knocked you out, Twinkles." Gaius answered her clearly, careful to avoid upsetting her any further. "Take a moment to relax, but when you're feeling better, we really gotta get out of—"
"LISSA!" She screeched loudly. Then she jumped to her feet and looked around her. When she couldn't find the princess anywhere, she became even more hysterical. "Oh, Gods, where is she? Where's Lissa? And the others? Don't tell me they're under the rubble over there, because if that's the case, then we have to do something! We have to—"
"—get a hold of yourself, woman!" Gaius demanded as he shook Maribelle by the shoulders. "Do you hear yourself right now? Panicking is the last thing we should do."
Maribelle stood wide-eyed for a moment, but became incredibly livid in the next. She swatted Gaius' arms away and started to yell even louder than before—shrill voice coming down upon him like a death bell. "Then just what do you suppose we do? Forget about them? Press on without her? Look for an escape whilst leaving our dearest comrades behind in this mess? If that is your solution to this problem, then frankly, I wish you would have left me to sleep."
Before he could make her eat her words, someone else stepped in to alleviate the situation. "Maribelle," Ricken began to say, "we're not saying that we should just abandon them. But the best way to save them is to find an escape route. If we just start hurling spells at this wall, it could collapse and hurt someone. And let's say we do meet up with them. Unless we find a way out of this place we'd all be stuck together—we'd all be doomed. S-So, let's calm down, okay?" He had confidence right up to the very end, but when everyone's gaze turned on him at once he felt himself wither.
They were more impressed with his calm rationale than they were amused by his stutter at the end of his speech, thankfully enough. Maribelle, especially, took these words to heart as she clutched the ends of her tattered parasol desperately, and gave a small nod to his sentiment.
"I-I see. You're right, Ricken. It was foolish of me to have made such an outburst like that. I was so worried about Lissa and the others I didn't stop to think about how to actually save them in the best way possible. I understand now," she recited the words calmly, exhaling loudly to shake off the anxiety that still had her in its grasp. And while Tharja scoffed at the emotional display, Gaius seemed rather pleased as he smiled softly at her.
"Glad that worked out like it did," Gaius said. "Let's get a move on, we don't got any time to waste. Let's head this way," he advised the group, who listened to him solemnly as they trekked on. Ricken took the lead and walked ahead of them, not realizing that the other three members were too tired to match his energy, for once—but they kept him in their sights as they trudged on wearily.
Just as Gaius was about to make way, he felt a small hand tap his shoulder. He turned around, and was surprised to see Maribelle, there, of all people. Her face wasn't contorted into something angry or displeased, but rather she appeared to be kind and apologetic—emotions which she never once showed Gaius before.
He faltered before her. "...What is it, Twinkles?"
"It's nothing too troubling," she reassured him, resting her hand back at her side. "I suppose that I owe you an apology, Gaius. You were simply being rational and I was...quite the opposite in that moment. I shouldn't have yelled at you, especially considering the circumstances."
"I understand," he said, resuming his pace. She followed after him reluctantly, and he continued talking. "I get where you're coming from, really. Lissa means a lot to you so I shouldn't have been so, I dunno, casual about it? Anyway." He turned his gaze away and pretended that the cracked jewels in the cave walls were more interesting than Maribelle was. "It's all water under the bridge now."
"Thank you, Gaius," she said gently. "I shouldn't forget how worried you must be, after all. No doubt the state of our remaining party must irk you heavily, as well."
He nodded, and smiled in spite of everything. He did this as a cover up, because he didn't want to admit to himself—much less Maribelle—that while he was worried about Anna, Miriel, and Lissa, his mind kept focusing on one person. And the more he thought about that person, the more he realized that he must have been suffering a head injury to be so concerned about him as he was. When did he start caring so much about Henry, even intrinsically? Why was Henry's image the only one he could immediately think of at this time? Didn't he say that he would sooner leave Henry than continue on thinking about him? When did he betray his initial feelings like that so easily? Why did it even matter to him, to begin with? He couldn't answer this right away, so he left the question to hang itself dry in the air.
He put one foot in front of the other, and focused on his escape. He'd never get his answers if he died in this maze, after all. So with each move forward he kept thinking that he had to survive, because he needed to see Henry at least one more time. He had to see him, because once they were together again, they could settle their differences once and for all.
Once that happened, Gaius could move on with his life, and continue living on as he always did.
At least, he hoped so.
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Henry's group was on the move. They walked for what felt like hours, lost in the labyrinthine nature of the cave. Luckily, Miriel kept track of which paths they already walked on and which ones were still unexplored, but even then they felt overwhelmed as each new walkway lead to another, and unique chambers opened up into others. As a result, they took breaks quite often, and during one particular resting period, Henry absorbed his surroundings into his mind.
The paths themselves were fraught with danger as countless shards, rocks, spikes, and other obstacles littered the floor. There were burnt out holes in the walls where the explosives were planted to begin with. Some were made of strange wiring and mechanization, while others were simple spells whose magic lay in wait behind the vibrating earth. It was impressive to see archaic magic and modern technology combine into something deadly yet meaningful, but it was such a shame that it had to be such a tragic event to trigger the marriage in the first place.
Miriel was having a field day herself as she wrote down everything she saw. Perhaps it was also her way of diffusing tension in the air, but she constantly asked her compatriots their ideas on the matter, and their opinions on the science behind it all. It was a bit of a bore to humor her, honestly, but it was somehow comforting, too.
Henry smiled. How noble Miriel was at times, even if she often denied it in the name of research or some other scholarly pursuit. He would laugh at her if she didn't seem so shaken up in the moment. Instead, he decided to walk ahead of her, and lead the ladies behind him into another chamber.
They reached a dead end for the first time. But it was not an empty room full of dirt and rock like they suspected it was. Instead, the room was chillingly cold, and in the back area of the chamber was a large pool of water. It was cobalt blue and crystalline, yet somehow murky, like someone poured liquid fog into the mix. There was an outer stream of water that poured in from the ceiling, and through there Henry could see the last remnants of the fading sunlight from the outside world—that strange in between sun-and-moon light that he didn't quite know the name of, or if it even had a name to begin with—pour through indelibly.
It was a beautiful sight as the beams slid off the water's surface. And it was the perfect place to take another break in their long process of escape. But as they ogled it and examined it closer, they were able to see something much more hideous and much less charming nearby.
The walls of the cave chamber were lined with skeletal remains. Some bones remained at the edge of the pool of water, and there were scraps of clothing and bits of broken weapons scattered throughout. Lissa stumbled in its wake, and Anna frowned noticeably. Miriel seemed intrigued by it all, and Henry could guess at the multitude of questions running through her mind at present.
Why were there skeletal remains? Is there a species of animals living in these caves that went extinct all at once? Or are these the bones of unlucky travelers? Was there something worse than the bandits or the explosives in these caves? Was the water but a mirage, produced out of the mind's despair through great hardship and strain? Is it possible to get a sample of the water itself?
Some of these questions were answered instantaneously. At first, the earth below shook, which caused the bones to start rattling in the most gruesome clamor possible. Great tremors of sound and substance started to rise from the depths of the cave's pool itself. The Shepherds all took a step back out of caution, and they were right to do so, because within seconds, the pool started to ripple. Then, it parted entirely, as something menacing and loathsome surfaced from below.
A large, dark, serpentine dragon rose from the water. Its scales were violet and black in color, and they reflected the light from the small hole in the ceiling, which made it scintillate and iridesce—almost bewitchingly so. Yet, they weren't distracted by this outer beauty, because the dragon glowed with the most unearthly aura possible. The way that its body sloughed off all the water without so much as a lively twitch, and the way that its chest remained unmoving and its nostrils closed down to slits registered something within them—causing a single word to be repeated in their heads.
Risen?
Their experience with Risen was that they were the unfortunate souls of the dearly departed, a phenomena that appeared only a few years ago. Since then, the Shepherds learned that they were dead creatures reanimated against their will by Grima. On other occasions, Risen were forcefully created by digging up bodies from graves, but the definition of those monsters remained the same throughout. Never before had they seen a nonhuman Risen (save the Revenants and the Entombed), and not even Henry—a dark mage and a Plegian, among other things—knew about such a possibility existing!
But if what they were seeing was true, then it showed that the influence of the Grimleal was so strong that with the right technique, even the most monstrous beasts could be affected. The monster was as cold and taciturn as the other Risen they had fought before, and it lowered its head to get closer to their level, where its eyes opened with frightening movements.
The eyelids snapped open wide, revealing milky white, glossy sclera with pitch black slits, and Henry failed to see any remnants of life within those eyes. But beyond the reptilian pupils and lifeless gaze, he realized something crucial.
It was blind.
While Risen were not as functional as their living counterparts had once been, they usually had enough vision and hearing to make them formidable foes. This dragon, while lacking sight, did not lack in the deadliness department as it roared ferociously, the sound of which was so strong that it caused some loose rocks to fall from their place in the ceiling.
Lissa screeched. She was too tired, too exhausted, too everything at once to hold back—and so she didn't. Overtaken by primal instinct and fear, she made a breakneck run for the exit. The others quickly followed after her, and the sound of the undead dragon behind them was ever prominent as it launched itself out from the lake and slithered down the tunnel after them.
They were oblivious to the outside world, but unbeknownst to them, the sky darkened. It was nighttime, now, and for some creatures, it was also dinnertime.
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Somewhere else in the vast series of tunnels and cave chambers was Gaius' group, and they were headed down another path. They took that direction on a whim, but mostly because Maribelle insisted that they go that way. The thief was wiser than to argue with her, especially in moments of strife like these.
Soon, they came into a large chamber that seemed to be a central point of convergence of other pathways. There were at least a dozen other paths to take, and some of the tunnels were even stacked on top of each other. The room itself was spacious, tall, and exceedingly cold. While it was not the worst development in this process they've had, the Shepherds knew that it would not help them to have so many options to pick from. After all, there was no telling which way would lead them home, and which way would lead to certain death.
Gaius caught onto the noticeable sound of scuttling, and instinctively drew his sword from its holster—the blade still fully intact despite all the thrashing that had been done recently. He glanced from its gleaming surface, to the equally confused looks on his companions' faces.
He asked: "Did you guys hear that?"
"Yes," Tharja said. "I have no idea what that could be—" She was cut off the by the scuttling noise returning, and this time she drew a spare tome from her person, eyes accusingly bright of whatever may come into sight.
Ricken and Maribelle tensed up, too. Then, when Ricken walked a little bit away from the group to investigate, he noticed something on the walls that made him feel sick to the stomach. He shouted out to the others, and raised a trembling hand up into the air to point at what he was seeing. "Are those spider webs?" He asked aloud, motioning at the white, fibrous strings that were stuck to the walls and decorating the ceiling.
They were unlike any common spider's web, however. The silk itself was large beyond belief, and either of the Shepherds could have easily fitted in one of the traps. In fact, all four of them could have been stuck to the web and there would still be space left over. A web that big only meant one thing: the spider that wove the web was also very, very, very large.
Gaius didn't particularly like spiders, although he had no qualms about squishing them with a shoe if he had to. But there were some things in the world that refused to be traipsed on, and whatever monstrous creation that lived in there absolutely fit into that category. He retreated slowly out of fear, and his entire body ran cold when he felt something press up against his backside.
The thief turned around to steal a glance, and his eyes were met by eight other eyes—each one larger than the size of his head. He could hear the shallow, sharp breathing of the arachnid before him, just as he could feel how close it was to him, if the dreadful sensation of its spindly, hairy legs pressed against his clothing was any indication.
He had no time to signal to the others but he felt they understood what was going on right away. He grabbed Maribelle's hand—that which was closest to him at the time—and screamed out for the other two to join him in escape. Within seconds, the four of them were running for their lives as a giant, carnivorous spider seemed intent on weaving them into its dinner web tonight.
Gaius saved his strength and kept quiet, but his mind ran for miles. Crivens, this place is just one enemy after another! To hell with it all, I'd almost rather get crushed under rocks than have to go through this! Although he was sure that either fate was just as gruesome, he figured that it would definitely be an easier reality to face than the one he was trapped in right now.
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Henry's group was running ahead. The Risen dragon was hot on their heels, and its fearsome roar bellowed just meters behind them. At times where they lacked speed, they even felt the awesome thrums of its footsteps and the rotten air of its breath resonate powerfully.
So many things were going through their minds that it felt like their brains and bodies were competing to see who could go faster. For Lissa, she was simply screaming her head off, and her inner thoughts matched her outer panic perfectly. Screaming was good for her, in a way, and once she stopped it either meant that the dragon had disappeared or she had been killed by its cold, sharp claws. Either way, it gave her some reassurance that she was still alive, so she didn't even bother to stop.
Miriel, on the other hand, was conflicted between her natural state of fear and her inquisitive mind. She wondered what sort of dragon that was, exactly, and how strong Grima must be to extend their power so greatly beyond their control. She decided that if she ever lived to see another day, she would consult with some of the Grimleal worshipers in the army and ask them for their thoughts on the subject.
Anna was frightful, and didn't mind exposing her weakness and frailty in this moment in time. She was a merchant, after all, and merchants dealt with people, not monsters. This particular monstrosity was different from the gooey forms of the Entombed, and its sharp teeth indicated that all it wanted was her pretty face between its gums. She shuddered at the thought but forced her body to keep moving no matter what.
Only Henry was thinking clearly about the situation. The fact from before held true in his mind, and this dragon was as blind as a bat. There were several instances where Henry looked over his shoulder, and each time he did, he noticed the dragon's clumsiness as it occasionally ran into walls or lagged further behind than it should have. And after pausing for a short break, it would cover its lost distance in the blink of an eye. That monster was blind, and he was sure of it! It waited for its mind to process the sounds of its surroundings, and then it acted furiously.
So, if he could just put some considerable distance between them and the dragon, then they had a big chance of surviving. The only real problem on their end was Lissa, who still managed to scream every step of the way thus far. Henry knew he had to do something to quiet her down, so when they temporarily lost the beast in their mad chase, he threw his whole body weight onto her, hoping the crash would stun her into silence.
Lissa, in turn, grabbed onto Anna's cape while falling, and Anna's tumbling stature caused Miriel to trip over her body, too. This chain reaction worked out conveniently, and Henry used all his strength and willpower to push himself and the girls to the side—hiding the four of them behind a particularly large boulder.
Lissa wasn't as fazed by the sharp rocks or fragmented crystal as much as she was with Henry's sudden interruption. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably and her lips—chapped and bleeding—hung open in shock. "Henry!" She yelled, and started shaking him by his narrow shoulders as if doing so would snap some sense into him. "What are you doing? D-Do you want us to die? Why did we stop moving? Why did you run into me? I can't believe this is happening right now! Listen—"
"Shhhh!" He whispered loudly, pressing his hands against her mouth in an attempt to gently muzzle her. "Shhhh."
He waited until she complied, and once she sat quietly the other two seemed to have calmed down, as well. The only noise now was the sound of air coming out their noses, and they all looked towards him wordlessly for an explanation. He sighed in relief, then slowly retracted his hands from her mouth.
"That dragon is blind," he explained carefully. "And the only reason it's still following us is because we're so loud. I'm one hundred percent sure of it."
The logic was slowcoming, but when it arrived, Lissa's eyes widened considerably, and she brought tremulous hands up to cover her mouth in shame—a small gasp escaping between her lips. But can you blame me? She wanted to say, but didn't form the words to. We're literally being chased by a twenty foot tall, undead dragon!
Miriel contended his claims. "If that is the case, then it could also be tracking us through a heightened olfactory sense or textile sense. Our natural aromas and our footprints left behind are surely efficient enough to warrant giving chase. Being silent may not necessarily save us."
Henry's grin lessened somewhat, but he kept that confusingly bright expression on his face affixed. He shook his head from side to side to deny her possibility. "I don't think so. I mean, it's been underwater this whole time, right? How easy is it to smell things so well if you're basically drowning yourself each day and night? Also, it's a Risen dragon, so it doesn't have a sense of feeling to begin with. No touch, right? Just a super cool, automatic reaction to try and kill anything in its path." Specialty of Grima, he wanted to add but decided not to.
Luckily he didn't have to, as Miriel's countenance dropped in understanding and awe. "I see. I can agree with your assumptions, now, given the fact that my knowledge on bestial species is not as expansive as I would like it to be. Yes, if what you say holds true, then the only way it could possibly know our location is through our noise."
"So we have to be quiet?" Lissa squeaked, seemingly worried in the prospect of doing so.
Anna shared her sentiments with an equally concerned face. "That's going to be hard to do, especially since we're making all sorts of noise just by walking." To prove her point, she adjusted her foot only slightly, but the motion itself was enough to cause a loud cracking noise to be heard. The floors of the tunnels were all covered in broken jewel fragments, that which easily made noise just by stepping on it. "This place is completely blown apart. We're really walking on eggshells, here! Er, crystal fragments, I mean."
Henry thought to himself silently, then lifted his finger into the air with a knowing motion. "I've got it. We can use some magic to confuse the big guy. We can blow something up in the opposite direction to distract it, long enough for us to get away!"
"That sounds perfect!" Lissa marveled. "Hurry, do it now while we have time! That thing could come back for us any minute now!"'
Henry stood up, and revealed an Arcthunder tome from his person. The book was barely touched since their success in the earlier scuffle with the bandits, and he was so thankful to have so many pages to enact supernatural fury with. He turned overhead to the direction they just came from—the place that the dragon was surely beginning to approach. With a frantic and hurried motion, he shot a stream of electricity down the tunnel, hoping to hell that the lightning hit something and that it would save them right now.
He was very lucky that one of the explosives from earlier hadn't set off. When the lightning stuck a soft spot in the wall, the whole formation burst open, creating a deafening noise that was sure to attract the attention of their unwanted pursuer.
Perhaps he was so tired that the mere sight of smoke distracted him, because he stood unmoving in the face of his success, but Anna was quicker and cleverer than he was, so she was able to swiftly react. With an exasperated breath, she moved and dragged the rest of her party with her in the other direction. "That will definitely get its attention," she said to them. "So let's not be here when it does!"
The others clumsily regained their senses, and were soon able to recover their missteps and join Anna in a shared sprint for freedom. They ran down the tunnels, chambers, and openings furiously, leaving nothing behind but scattered dust and drops of blood in their wake.
There was a mutual thought of relief between them all, and there was no hiding the happiness that formed in a successful escape from one of the worst hells they went through, thus far.
.
.
.
Gaius' group wasn't nearly as lucky, as they were still running for their lives. Near the spider's domain, they ran into plenty of skeletal remains (human and nonhuman alike)—as well as cocoons that were empty and full, with old and new victims. The silk was everywhere and Gaius promptly decided that he never wanted to see another spider in his life ever again.
If he ever managed to survive this ordeal, anyway.
They eventually started seeing less and less of the spider's work throughout the caves, so they figured that they escaped its personal network for the time being. While a huge relief on their end, it was also the exact thing needed to trigger their fatigue, and so the exhaustion from the rest of the day finally caught up with them.
It was harder on Ricken and Tharja, since they were mages and less fortified or agile than Gaius was (although Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour certainly helped to make up the difference). Maribelle was somewhere in between those two spectrums of physicality and stamina, but was still thankful for the break they received, as she carefully leaned against a giant rock for support.
Tharja, on the other hand, resigned herself to lying down on the ground for the time being, since she was too tired to stand. As she laid down upon the dirt, the other three noticed something very worrying nearby her. Only an arm's length away from her head was a small explosive in the wall—exposed but not set off. They remained as calm as possible, lest they shock her otherwise, and accidentally cause her to blow their heads off.
When she glanced at Ricken, he pointed to the spot where the explosive was. She turned her head to examine it, and let out a deep sigh. "Here, too? How could those scumbags miss the giant spider during their whole setup? Didn't they see the webs, the cocoons, the bones run amok?"
"They, they probably didn't know it was here," Ricken debated. "They would have never set up camp here if they knew this giant monster was nesting right next to them…"
"If...if that's the...case..." Maribelle heaved tiredly between words. "If that's the case," she repeated herself at last, "then why didn't the spider simply kill them all? Why did it let them survive this long? It's been, what, more than a week since those uncouth charlatans set up their base here? Why would it be so patient for all this time?"
"Maybe," Tharja cut in, "it was waiting for them to gather all in one spot. People have been going in and out, right? They...There are so many of them. Maybe the spider was patient because it was very, very hungry, yet very smart...and it wanted as much to eat as possible."
Tharja smiled weakly, in a way that was less intimidating but more sorrowful. Her words sent a surge of fear through the others, anyway. "Maybe it was waiting for us."
A loud din burst forth from behind them. They covered their ears instinctively, then stood to attention, turning around to face whatever ungodly source of the noise was waiting for them.
The spider from before emerged from the opposite end of the tunnel. It had caught up to them at last, and successfully trapped them in what they falsely believed to be a safe hiding spot. Its gaping maw revealed haphazard fangs that seeped with latent venom. Its black, beady eyes narrowed triumphantly, and it was almost as if it looked upon them with a knowing stare, one that relayed a silent message of despair.
I found you.
Even more troubling was the appearance of a second adversary—a behemoth of a dragon, serpentine and undead in nature as a familiar aura engulfed its black and violet body. Its eyes were glassy and milk-stained, and sticky foam frothed from its crowded mouth full of fangs. There was an unspoken truce between this monster and the spider, and the two predators began to close in on their prey.
How this random, undead dragon got into this mess was way beyond Gaius, especially since he had no idea it was the same beast that chased Henry's group mere moments ago. He was unaware of a large explosion that averted its attention (courtesy of Henry's Arcthunder), and brought it here, instead. Had he known, then he probably would have used that same psychic force to break the walls apart and make their daring escape, but there were no actual capabilities of doing so.
Rather, Gaius resigned himself to his fate with the others as they cautiously backed up, the dead-end wall of the tunnel meeting their backs within moments. Maribelle was the closest to Gaius at this time, and he felt her body shaking heavily, and heard her mutter strange words under her breath.
She was praying, he realized. Those pathetic murmurs were prayers in the making. He never took Maribelle to be a religious woman, but now was as good of a time as any to start begging for mercy from Naga or whoever else was out there. This vaguely made him think of Libra, and all the times Gaius mocked him for being so devout. He would take it all back if those very same gods and goddesses would show him respite right now. He would take everything back if it meant that he could somehow come out of this hopeless situation alive.
And the thought of leaping into the air with sudden faith made him remember something quite important. His eyes widened at the revelation as he looked ahead. The explosive. He deadpanned mentally, then revived with sudden fervor. The bomb! That's it. Oh Gods. Crivens, I can't believe—that's it that's it that's it that's it. That's our way out! The same bombs that threatened their lives to begin with would also end up becoming their saving grace, which was terribly ironic, but wonderfully fitting for an ironic bunch like the Shepherds.
After all this, they could still be saved.
They just had to time it properly. There was nothing standing between them and the giant spider and Risen dragon, although a close-ranged explosion might be strong enough to prevent them from getting their faces bit off. Gaius was stumped on just how to activate the bomb from a safe distance, although when his eyes flitted across Ricken and Tharja's fearful bodies, inspiration struck like lightning.
He yelled. "Ricken, Tharja!" The nicknames he had for them (Hatter and Sunshine, respectively) were temporarily forgotten, as he spoke with sheer adrenaline and panic in his voice. "Set off the bomb! Throw fire or something at it! Hurry!"
Tharja's eyes went wide, her voice went high, and she screamed hysterically—the loudest scream that Gaius ever heard in his life up until now. "Are you daft? We're gonna die if we set it off here! Our faces will melt off!"
"I know that!" Gaius snapped. "But would you rather die instantly or have your body be torn apart by those giant fangs?" He motioned wildly at the creatures, who were seconds away from tackling their prey in one voluminous, overwhelming, ravenous sweep.
She hesitated, and Gaius feared that her indecisive face was the last thing he would ever see. His fears melted before his eyes, however, as Ricken stepped forward in Tharja's place. His words and movements were half-excited, half-frantic as he prepared his Arcfire tome, and swiftly shot a decisive and steady stream of fire ahead.
And just as the spider and dragon lurched forward, the explosion went off.
Just like before, brilliantly blinding flashes of light went off around them, and the sounds of the cave's structure collapsing in on itself were deafening, to say the least. They didn't feel the force of sharp fangs or claws cutting into them, so they could only assume that their aggressors were crushed by debris, or too preoccupied with dodging falling boulders to care about their dinner right now.
Gaius denied any rational thought that came to mind as he instinctively grabbed the other three and pulled them closer to him—shielding their smaller, thinner, and weaker bodies with his own strength and bulk. He didn't need a revelation to know that he was basically sacrificing himself in the moment for them, but it was one of those things that would truly define him as a person. He always knew that it was his place to do the dirty work for everyone else—to be the savior in otherwise unsavable situations. He knew that it was always him to suffer for everyone else's sorrows—to pay for crimes that were never his own. He was a martyr for the martyr-less, a name that could be sacrificed in order to protect those with higher statuses than his own.
This was destiny, really.
He did it all without a second thought. The last thing he heard from his valiant efforts was the chorus of chaos erupting around him. The shifting rocks, wild winds, and sprays of blood (ew) that encompassed him at once. He heard Maribelle screaming at him, specifically, yelling something about how he was holding her too tightly, or that he was a fool for saving them before himself, or something so bitter yet so sweet that he couldn't help but laugh at the sound of it.
And it was then that something dark and heavy fell from the ceiling above. He heard it distinctly before it dropped—something creaking, ominous, and big—and those noises intensified as it came closer, closer, and closer to him, still.
Then it reached his head, and everything blackened all at once.
He didn't hear anything else after that.