The smoke had barely settled.
Miles stood near the edge of the ruined clearing, where the last of the twisted forest had finally stopped bleeding shadow, with Dee nestled gently on his shoulder, still snoring ever so slightly.
The monsters were dead, and the rot they left behind was already beginning to dissolve into dust. But it didn't feel like victory.
It felt like a warning.
Jake sat on a broken root nearby, his knuckles and arms bandaged and wrapped around his knees. His armor was dented in three places, and dried blood streaked the side of his face, but his eyes weren't dull. They were sharp, focused, despite the devastating pain of having lost all his group.
Or perhaps that was why his eyes gleamed like that.
Because he could not afford to waste precious seconds being swallowed by the emptiness.
