The faint crackle of fire stirred Lucas from sleep.
His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim, flickering glow that filled the small cavern. The warmth was… tolerable. Better than cold stone, at least. His back still hurt, but it wasn't the stabbing, soul-deep ache of the last few days.
Just dull now.
Manageable.
He blinked away the grogginess and sat up, exhaling a dry breath. His throat was parched, but not unbearable. He reached for the canteen tucked beside him and took a sip—just enough to wet his mouth. The water was stale and warm.
Still precious.
Across the fire, Lyss sat against the wall, knees drawn up, arms resting on top. Her gaze was distant, fixed on the cave entrance and the motionless mist beyond it. The faint violet hue of the eternal moon cast a glow on her pale skin, turning her hair to liquid silver in the firelight.
She didn't look at him.
Didn't need to.
"I lived," Lucas muttered, his voice rough but steadier than before. "So… either I'm tougher than I thought, or this place just hasn't tried hard enough yet."
Lyss's eyes shifted, finally meeting his.
"No one's impressed."
Lucas let out a tired chuckle and rubbed his face. "Didn't expect you to be."
He looked around the cave—stone walls, the dying fire, their packs in the corner.
Safe.
At least for now.
"…Did you sleep?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"Enough."
Which meant: barely.
He leaned back against the cold rock, stretching his legs out slowly.
'Still sore. Still tired. But I don't feel like I'm going to drop dead anymore. Progress, I guess.'
Lyss went quiet again, eyes returning to the entrance.
The fire popped.
Lucas closed his eyes briefly, letting the silence settle.
He wasn't used to quiet.
Not the kind that didn't feel empty.
The meat was dry and tough, even after being reheated over the fire.
Lucas chewed with a grimace, each bite feeling more like punishment than sustenance. Still, his stomach welcomed it, and he wasn't about to complain out loud. Not seriously.
"Still tastes like regret," he muttered between bites, voice low and hoarse. "But less like burnt regret, so… improvement."
Lyss didn't laugh. But the corner of her mouth twitched.
She tore a piece off her ration and chewed in silence.
The fire crackled softly, casting long shadows against the cave walls. Outside, the world remained still—no wind, no noise, no hint of life. Only the shifting mist and that unmoving violet moon.
Lucas leaned back, resting an arm across his knee as he finished chewing. "So…" he began, slowly. "Any idea how long we've been climbing?"
Lyss didn't respond right away.
"Hard to say," she finally answered. "Could be three days. Could be seven. Time doesn't move here the way it should."
He nodded.
'Yeah. I figured.'
Another bite. Another bitter chew.
Lyss glanced over. "You never told me. How was your first day in The Crucible?"
Lucas paused, eyes flickering up to meet hers.
He didn't answer right away.
Then, with a dry laugh, he said, "Woke up naked in a desert. Almost got killed by a giant scorpion. Found some weird temple ruins. Died, maybe. Not sure. Woke up again. Met a god, possibly. Got stabbed. Got a class. Then woke up in a hospital back on Earth like none of it happened."
Lyss raised an eyebrow.
Lucas shrugged. "Y'know. Normal stuff."
"…And you came back willingly."
"Yeah, well," he muttered, poking the fire with a charred stick, "wasn't exactly rolling in options."
There was a pause.
Neither of them looked at the other.
But the silence that followed wasn't heavy.
Just quiet.
Lucas let it sit there, not needing to fill it.
Later, Lucas sat near the cave's entrance, arms resting on his knees, his eyes fixed on the endless mist beyond.
It clung to the mountain like a living thing—thick and pale, shifting subtly in waves with no wind to stir it. The glow of the violet moon cast a faint shimmer over everything, painting the world in cold hues.
He didn't know what time it was.
Didn't know how long they'd been here.
It could've been morning. Or night. Or something else entirely.
'Feels like we've been up here for weeks.'
His eyes scanned the vast slope they had climbed. He couldn't see where it began anymore. The fog had swallowed everything below them, and the peak above was just as invisible.
'This place doesn't want us to know how far we've come. Or how far we still have to go.'
He wasn't sure which was worse.
A shift in the air behind him broke his thoughts. He didn't need to turn to know it was Lyss. She sat beside him quietly, keeping a respectful distance, her arms resting over her knees the same way he had his.
They said nothing for a long time.
Just watched the mist drift and curl beyond the ledge.
It wasn't peace.
But it wasn't war either.
Lucas let out a slow breath, watching it vanish into the chill.
'I'm not dead. That's something.'
Lucas didn't look at her when he spoke.
"Why did you bring me here?"
The question came out quiet. Tired. But not without weight.
Lyss didn't respond immediately. She stayed still, her eyes focused on the mist like it held the answer for her.
"I told you," she said eventually. "You needed to grow."
"That's not an answer," he muttered. "That's a motivational poster."
Her lips twitched again, almost a smirk, but not quite.
He finally turned his head to glance at her. "You could've picked any number of strong Awakened. People from your family's faction. People with experience."
"I didn't want them."
"Right. So you picked the half-dead guy with no name, no money, and barely a class."
"You have more than you realize."
Lucas scoffed. "And you're full of cryptic bullshit."
This time, she did smile.
Just a little.
But it faded quickly.
"I didn't come here just for you," she said after a long pause. "And this… wasn't the place we were meant to go."
Lucas frowned, but said nothing.
She went on. "Still, I brought you because you're different. And this place? It tests more than just strength, like you can see."
His jaw clenched.
But he didn't say anything more.
He turned back to the mist.
'Different. Right. That usually means 'useful' in noble-speak.'
But for some reason…
He didn't hate the way she said it.
The silence that followed didn't feel as cold.
Still distant. Still cautious.
But something had shifted.
Lucas leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the jagged ceiling of the cave. He could feel the fire's heat dimming across the room. It was almost out, and he was too damn tired to stoke it.
He reached lazily for the last strip of cooked meat by the firepit—only to find another piece flying toward his face.
He caught it midair on instinct.
Blinking, he looked across the room.
Lyss was sitting with one leg folded, casually chewing her own ration. She didn't look at him when she spoke.
"Eat. You still look like you're about to collapse."
Lucas stared at the meat in his hand. "Didn't know you were feeling generous."
"I'm not."
He chuckled softly and tore into the strip with tired teeth. It was bland and rubbery, but it was food.
And right now, that was enough.
They didn't speak for a while.
Just the faint crack of fire, the breath between battles.
Lucas finished the meat, wiped his hand on his cloak, and leaned back once more.
'Maybe I'm too tired to be suspicious.'
'Maybe I'm just starting to not care.'
Or maybe…
Something resembling trust had begun to take root.
Not much.
But enough to sit in silence.
Together.
Lucas shuffled over to the far wall of the cave, dragging his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The fire was down to glowing embers now, casting a dull red sheen across the stone floor.
He lowered himself slowly, groaning as his body protested with every small movement.
It wasn't pain, exactly.
Just… fatigue deep enough to reach the soul.
He laid back against the cold surface, letting it cradle his weight. The rough stone wasn't comfortable, but it was familiar now. It belonged to this place, just like they did.
Across the cave, Lyss hadn't moved. She still sat near the entrance, facing the mist.
Always watching.
Always waiting.
Lucas turned his head slightly, eyes heavy.
'She never really sleeps, huh…'
He studied her silhouette in the glow of the dying fire.
Still. Silent. Unshaken.
'She's hiding something. Of course she is.'
'But she's also not… lying. Not entirely.'
He closed his eyes for a second, letting the weight of the last few days settle over him. His muscles twitched as he began to drift.
'I still don't know what she wants from me.'
'Or what she's trying to prove.'
His breathing slowed.
But before slipping fully into sleep, one last thought surfaced—quiet, but unshakable.
'Weird. I don't trust her… but I don't not trust her either.'