Riven stirred awake to the crackle of bone against stone and the stench of decay clinging thick in the stale air. His body ached, his wrist still tightly wrapped in the torn strips of his trouser. Across from him, crouched beside a crude arrangement of bone and blackened rock, the Phantom worked silently, her movements sharp and practiced.
The flick of a shard against the jagged edge of a larger bone sent a tiny spark flaring—and then another. Eventually, smoke curled upward as the brittle husk of a Wither Spawn's femur began to burn.
"Bonefire?" Riven muttered, voice dry. "Didn't think you could light a corpse like tinder."
She glanced at him, unmoved. "You think monsters don't burn?"
Then she dropped the rest of the Wither Spawn's carcass beside him with a wet thud.
Riven recoiled. "This thing is rotten."
She didn't bother looking up. "Then starve. Your choice."
He stared at the pale, cracked flesh. The smell was abominable, like rot soaked in mildew. His stomach clenched in protest.
"I'm just saying," he muttered, "I've chewed old boots that looked tastier."
"No one's stopping you. Eat the boot if it comes to it." She settled near the fire, her mask gleaming faintly with the pulsing veins of light.
Riven hesitated. Hunger gnawed at him like worms under his skin, and his last proper meal was little more than a fading memory. The fire licked hungrily at the bone, casting a sickly warmth across the cave wall.
"How'd you even get this to light?" he asked eventually, poking the fire with a scorched shard.
"Core marrow," she replied simply. "Inside the bones. Wither Spawn carry it even after death. Not strong enough for power, but burns long enough."
They ate in silence. The meat was stringy, bitter, and tasted like ash—but it was food. Or close enough.
When they'd taken what little they could stomach, the Phantom stood and kicked dirt over the fire.
"Time to move," she said.
Riven pushed himself up with a groan, bones creaking like rusted hinges. He glanced down the dark tunnel ahead—endless, swallowing, and cold.
"Where exactly are we moving to?" he asked.
"Forward."
As if that was all there ever could be.
Without another word, she vanished into the shadows ahead. And with a breath that tasted of smoke and blood, Riven followed.