Before stepping into the unknown, each of them took a moment to leave behind their final words, a message of hope, love, or quiet resignation.
Reza knelt, pressing a gentle kiss to Omen's forehead. The child cooed softly, unaware of the weight of the moment. With trembling hands, she turned to Khalid, one of the remaining Silver Axes. "Please," she whispered, voice barely above a breath. "Take care of him. He's just a baby… I can't—" Her voice broke, but she forced herself to steady it. "I can't risk him drowning. If I don't make it back, raise him well. Tell him I did this to give him a future."
Khalid, a hardened warrior, softened for a moment. He took Omen into his arms, nodding. "I will guard him with my life."
Hadeefa stood tall, looking at the remaining refugees with a calm but firm expression. "Take care of each other," she said, her voice carrying the wisdom of years. "Do not let despair take you. Our goddess teaches us to endure, to protect one another. Hold fast to that faith."
She met Boran's eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Lead them wisely."
Nadra, youngest among them, forced a smile. She looked at her closest friends, girls her age who had known her since childhood. "Don't forget me," she said, trying to sound lighthearted, but the nervous energy in her voice betrayed her fear. "If I don't make it, at least make up a good story about me. Something heroic."
Her friends gave weak chuckles, but their eyes were glossy with unshed tears.
Soraya knelt before her two children, both barely old enough to understand what was happening. She cupped their faces, brushing a thumb over their cheeks. "You listen to Uncle Ulan, alright? Be good. Stay strong. I'll be back soon."
One of them sniffled. "Promise?"
Soraya hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "I promise." She kissed their foreheads, then turned away before they could see the tears welling in her eyes.
Arianne crouched down and carefully handed a small, trembling creature to one of the refugees—a young boy who had always been fond of animals. It was a rabbit, its fur a soft brown, its tiny nose twitching.
"Take care of him for me," she said. "He likes dandelions."
The boy cradled the rabbit against his chest, nodding solemnly. "I will."
Zahra didn't say much. She simply turned to face the group one last time, lifted a hand, and waved goodbye. She didn't trust her voice to remain steady, and she didn't want to make promises she might not be able to keep.
Then, without another word, they turned toward the water. Khaltar was the first to dive, leading the way into the cold, dark tunnel beneath the river. One by one, the others followed, disappearing into the depths. The refugees stood in silence, watching until the last ripple faded.
The moment they broke through the surface, gasping for air, their chests burned with the strain of the long, suffocating dive. One by one, they dragged themselves onto the rocky shore, their bodies shivering from the cold water clinging to their clothes. Their breaths came in ragged, desperate gulps, but as the panic of near-drowning faded, they finally looked around—and what they saw left them in awe.
The cave was smaller than the one they had left behind, but it was far from barren. In the dim glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to the walls and ceiling, life thrived.
Clusters of glowing mushrooms—some large enough to resemble lanterns—sprouted along the cavern walls, illuminating the space in a faint blue-green light. Among them, patches of edible moss and creeping vines curled around stalagmites, their leaves thick and lush, dripping with condensed moisture.
Further along, small, bulbous fruits dangled from twisted vines that coiled around the rocks. They had thick, waxy skin, much like pomegranates, but when Khaltar plucked one and tore it open, he found soft, fleshy pulp inside, glistening with sweet nectar. A hesitant taste confirmed its rich, honey-like flavor, a stark contrast to the bland salamanders and bitter cave roots they had been surviving on.
At the far end of the cave, a natural underground spring bubbled up from beneath the stone, forming a crystalline pool. The water was clear and untainted, its surface occasionally rippling as something moved beneath it. A steady trickle flowed from the pool into a narrow stream, disappearing into another tunnel. It didn't take long before they realized the cave was alive with creatures.
Blind cave fish—pale, nearly translucent—darted beneath the water's surface, their small, wriggling forms easy to catch by hand.
Fat cave eels slithered through the deeper parts of the pool, their dark bodies glistening under the fungal glow. They were slow-moving but large enough to make a filling meal.
Small, burrowing rodents—similar to rabbits but with elongated ears and sharp claws for digging—peeked out from the cracks in the rocks. They chittered softly, watching the newcomers with wary curiosity.
Lichen-fed beetles with shimmering shells the color of polished bronze scurried across the ground, clustering around patches of glowing moss. These, they knew, could be roasted and eaten—bitter but rich in nutrients.
But what caught their attention the most was the presence of larger game. High up on the rocky ledges, goat-like creatures with short, curved horns grazed on the hanging vines, their thick fur shaggy and unkempt. If they could catch one, it would provide enough meat for days.
Khaltar turned toward the far corner of the cavern, where a narrow tunnel yawned open like a black maw. Its entrance was choked with thick spider webs, strands glistening under the faint glow of the fungi. The air around it felt different—damp, heavy, and strangely stagnant, as if untouched by wind for centuries.
His jaw tightened. He had seen enough tunnels in his life to know that darkness without a breeze meant unknown depths, possibly untouched for generations. But it was the only visible passage leading forward.
He exhaled sharply, wiping a few stray droplets of water from his face, and turned to the others. "This is our mission," he said, his voice steady, though even he could feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on them. "We came to find a way out. And that tunnel—" he pointed toward the black void—"is our best chance."
A shiver ran down Nadra's spine as she stared at the entrance. The thick webs, the suffocating dark—her mind screamed at her to turn away. She clenched her fists, swallowing down her fear before forcing out the question that lingered in all their minds. "Is that… the only way?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Khaltar's expression darkened. He scanned the cavern again, as if hoping to find another route, another passage, but the truth was undeniable. The cave walls were solid, smooth stone, with no other visible openings. The underground river that had brought them here led backward, not forward. "This is it," he said at last. "If there's a way out of here, we'll find it through that tunnel."
As they stepped cautiously into the tunnel, the thick spider webs clung to their faces and arms, forcing them to brush the strands away as they moved forward. The air grew colder, and the distant drip of water echoed, masking the sound of their footsteps. Then—a shadow moved.
Before Khaltar could react, a blur shot out from the darkness. A cloaked figure, its movements too swift for a human, lunged straight at him, swinging a heavy battle-axe aimed for his head. CLANG!
Khaltar barely raised his blade in time to block the attack, the force of the impact reverberating through his arms. He staggered back as the figure pressed forward, attacking again. Axe met sword, sparks flying in the confined tunnel. The attacker was strong—too strong for an average man. "Damn it! Who the hell are you?!" Khaltar growled, parrying another powerful swing.
The figure didn't answer. Its hood obscured its face, but the short, stocky frame and the sheer ferocity of its strikes made one thing clear—this was a dwarf.
The others scrambled back, giving them space as the battle raged on. The clash of steel filled the tunnel, their shadows twisting under the dim glow of the fungi-covered walls.
Khaltar grit his teeth. He couldn't afford to drag this out. He timed his next move carefully—waiting, reading the dwarf's rhythm—then sidestepped a downward chop and spun behind him.
With a sudden burst of strength, he slammed the hilt of his sword into the dwarf's back, knocking him off balance. The figure stumbled, and in that instant, Khaltar drove forward, pinning him against the stone wall with his blade pressed to his throat. "Enough! Who are you?! Speak!" he demanded, his breath ragged from the fight.
The figure remained still, chest heaving beneath the cloak. Then, after a long pause, a voice—gruff, deep, and unmistakably dwarven—rasped from the hood.
"...Yer trespassin' in the wrong tunnel, human."
Khaltar pulled back his sword, took a deep breath, and extended his hand. A gesture of peace.
The dwarf hesitated, his hood still shadowing his face, then finally grasped Khaltar's forearm, pulling himself up. Up close, the dwarf's armor was rusted, dented, and his cloak tattered, yet his grip was strong—like a warrior who had fought for far too long. "What's your name?" Khaltar asked.
The dwarf adjusted his hood, revealing a scarred face framed by a thick, silver-streaked beard. His deep-set eyes carried the weight of centuries.
"Name's Gorim," he muttered. "Cave Keeper."
"Cave Keeper?" Khaltar frowned. "There are others like you?"
Gorim exhaled through his nose, glancing at the tunnel walls as if they held ghosts of the past. "The dwarven kingdom fell centuries ago," he said, his voice tinged with old sorrow. "The mines collapsed, the halls crumbled, and our people... faded. If there are others, they must be scattered—hiding in ruins, deep within the Grey Mountains, or lost to time."
Khaltar's warriors listened in silence, absorbing the weight of his words. A kingdom gone. A people lost.
Khaltar studied Gorim's worn expression, then nodded. He understood loss. "Then you've been alone all this time?"
Gorim gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Aye. And I thought I'd die that way. Until you lot showed up."