If the barrier really had an exit, then there had to be a lever—some mechanism hidden from view.
She scanned with her eyes but everything seemed normal, only the base that the scattered debris had covered. Then Ravenna rummaged through the rubble, pushing debris away from the base of the barrier, her eyes scanning every crevice with sharp, deliberate focus.
The foundation looked ordinary, save for one square recess carved into the stone—just the right size for a hand.
She blinked in excitement.
With a slight trace of hesitation, she slid her right hand into the hollow. Her fingers brushed against something—a horizontal lever. She explored it with care, trying to understand its mechanism.
And her heart suddenly surged. The lever was the same design as the stonewall that opens the passageway into the hollow. Relief washed over her.
Without delay, she lifted the lever and pushed it inward.
Cracks splintered across the surface of the barrier like lightning. From those fractures, solid stone steps emerged—each carved from the same shimmering material as the barrier itself. They lined upward, reaching toward the overcast skies, but were spaced so far apart that no human could jump between them unaided.
Ravenna took a deep breath and stepped onto the first stone, and from it she looked at the next—it was impossibly distant.
Still, she jumped but on the same stone she was.
The moment her feet touched the stone again, it surged with energy and launched her high into the air—straight to the next stone. She landed with a startled yelp.
"Whoa!" she gasped, exhilarated. It worked. Just as she had hoped. It was just the same as the barrier, it propels any force that lands on it.
She hurried back down and scooped up Dahlia, who still sat motionless on the ground. "We have a way out!" she whispered excitedly into her ear.
But Dahlia didn't react. She simply allowed herself to be lifted, her tear-streaked face vacant and distant.
Ravenna frowned and said. "I don't understand why you have become like this? Why won't your eyes stop crying? Master must've done something to you... But we'll fix it once we're free."
With that, she stepped onto the stone again, holding Dahlia tightly.
"Jump with me, Dahlia!" she called out, supporting firmly with her arms. Dahlia mimicked her faintly, just enough for the magic to respond.
They soared together upward. A leap after another.
Again and again, they went on, each stone launching them to the next. And time counted, thirty minutes. An hour. Two. Time slipped by in the rhythm of their ascent.
The higher they rose, the harder it became. Ravenna's breaths grew labored. The overcast loomed like an unreachable ceiling. The strain of lifting Dahlia with every jump drained her rapidly. She glanced down—the ground was now a distant blur, like it had been swallowed by the abyssal.
Ravenna paused briefly, panting, one hand on her knee, the other still clutched Dahlia close. Then, with a pained groan, she pressed on. Time lost all meaning. But she felt the passage of days already counting for them.
On the third day, her throat burned with thirst. Her lips cracked. Her limbs trembled. No sweat beaded her skin anymore—her body was spent. She bent, nearly collapsing, leaning against Dahlia for support.
She looked at Dahlia's facel and she froze.
Not a drop of sweat marred her pale skin. Her breathing was calm. She hadn't uttered a word or faltered once.
Ravenna gasped.
Could this also still be part of the effect of what had happened to her? Ravenna thought. And then…
Her eyes dropped to the tears still slipping from Dahlia's cheeks—endless, glistening trails.
An idea struck her like lightning. Her parched tongue licked her lips. With trembling anticipation, she brought her mouth beneath Dahlia's chin.
"You've saved us," she whispered.
She opened her mouth and let the tears fall in.
The taste was sour, sharp—but she didn't care. She gulped them down, her thirst fading with every drop. A sense of clarity returning to her. Her lips curled in relief. Dahlia didn't move, didn't resist. She simply stood there, like a silent wellspring.
Ravenna drank her fill, then let out a deep, satisfied belch. Her stomach growled with hunger, but it was a hunger she could endure. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled weakly.
"Thank you, Dahlia," she murmured almost to herself, while hugging her close. "I owe you."
With renewed strength, she jumped together with Dahlia again.
And again.
The days passed—four, five, six, nine… Whenever thirst clawed at her throat, she drank from Dahlia's tears. The hunger grew, but she bore it.
On the fifteenth day, she looked up the overcast that seemed to be drawing further away, but she still persisted on.
Then, it was the eighteenth day. The overcast was finally closing to a reach. For the first time, it no longer shifted further away. But the distance was still just a little beyond.
On the twentieth day, her vision blurred. She felt her body giving in. Just for a second, her eyes closed. She felt a strange weightlessness.
When she snapped awake, Dahlia was gone from her arms.
"No!" she cried, her heart wrenching. She looked down—Dahlia was sliding off the edge of a stone, her body limp, about to fall into the void.
Ravenna dove.
She caught Dahlia by the wrist just as she was slipping into the darkness. Her own body lay sprawled on the edge of the stone, one hand gripping with barely enough strength, the other searching for something—anything—to hold.
But the surface was smooth. Featureless. There was no anchor.
Ravenna's muscles trembled, the weight too much for her weakened limbs. Desperation surged. She reached with both hands, trying to pull Dahlia up.
But the more she moved, the more they slipped.
She froze.
It was hopeless.
Either she lets go… or they both fall.
Her mind screamed. Her soul fractured.
It is my fault! It is my fault! If I hadn't fallen unconscious! Her head screamed at her.
She didn't want to die—but how could she let Dahlia go?
Tears filled her eyes.
Then, she suddenly sighed. Seeming to have just made her decision.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Her fingers loosened.
Dahlia fell from her grip. Ravenna's tears dropped uncontrollably this time. She tried to deceive her buzzing mind; she's not wrong that she wants to live, is she?
After a short while that her thoughts ran, suddenly Ravenna's arms shot out again, catching Dahlia's body mid-air and wrapping them tightly around her waist. She had fallen by her own choice and caught Dahlia's body amidst the fall.
She pulled her in, holding her close.
"I always do the opposite of my heart," she said bitterly, a tear sliding down her cheek. "You're lucky… you'll never have to feel any of this."
And with that, she closed her eyes—letting the weight of them both being pulled into the abyss.
—------
A line of caravans trudged slowly across the golden expanse of the desert. Their wheels groaned under the weight of heavy goods, the load piled so high it seemed to press into the earth itself. It was clearly a trading convoy—either returning from a successful exchange or heading toward one.
Mysterious, foreign figures guided the wagons across the vast expanse, their faces hidden beneath bandanas, only their eyes visible to the open air. Their garments draped over every inch of their bodies, concealing all traces of identity. Some rode ahead on horseback, others steered the caravans or walked alongside them, speaking and laughing in a language the desert winds did not recognize. Obviously the native language of the land they might have come from. Their passage was calm, steady, and untroubled.
Then, the sky across a thousand kilometers cracked.
A thunderous bang! shattered the stillness of that area. Without warning, two bodies plummeted from the sky, crashing into the sand with enough force to send up a thick cloud of dust.
One of the riders at the rear had just been straining his eyes to the distant sky at the moment something had plummeted. pulling on his reins sharply, his horse rearing and neighing in alarm. He had seen it—a streak like a falling star descending from the heavens.
"Something has fallen! From the sky!" he shouted in his native language, panic breaking into his voice as he twisted in the saddle.
The convoy erupted into confusion. Horses neighed and stamped, the air alive with anxious murmurs.
"Everyone calm down!" came the firm voice of the caravan leader. He pulled a long-range spyglass from his side and turned it toward the direction the rider had pointed. He focused—and there it was, bodies. Two figures, faint outlines sprawled across the sand far in the distance.
Fallen from the sky? Surprised!
The leader's brows furrowed. He couldn't make sense of what had happened. People didn't simply fall from the sky. He had his doubts.
He couldn't tell whether they were dead or alive—but one thing he did know was that getting involved could put his entire caravan at risk.
Banditry in the desert was rare, but not unheard of. And a setup like this could easily be bait for an ambush. He weighed the risk in silence, then exhaled through his nose and turned his horse.
"It's just bodies. Let's move on," he ordered flatly and slightly changed their trajectory away from the route they were taking.
The caravan hesitated, riders glancing at one another in confusion, but no one was defiant.
They had only traveled a short distance when one of the riders pushed forward. His name was Baole.
"Baole," the leader acknowledged, not shifting his gaze from the horizon.
Baole hesitated before speaking. "Leader… are we just going to leave them there? What if they're alive and need help?"
The leader turned his head and looked at him calmly.
"Baole, I've never seen anyone fall from the sky, and I doubt I ever will again. That alone makes this suspicious. We are carrying the tribe's future in these wagons. What if this is a trick? An ambush meant to lure us in?"
He paused, then added, "Besides, the spot where they landed is nearly a thousand kilometers from here. At our current pace, it would take us three days to reach it. Even if they were alive when they fell, they likely won't be by then. And even if we could help… we can't afford to take that risk today. The goods we carry are what will get us through this season."
Baole looked down, conflicted. "I understand," he said quietly.
The leader gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Good. And remember, saving someone doesn't make us good. We're not good people, Baole. No one is. We're only peaceful."
They continued their journey, the desert swallowing the moment behind them. But it wasn't long before Baole pulled up beside the leader once more.
"Leader!" he called.
The leader turned, expression calm, not irritated.
"I'm sorry," Baole said. "I know I may be disappointing you, but I can't just ride on and leave them there."
The leader was curious and was about to gently ask why he was showing so much concern. But before he could, Baole continued, "Let me take four men. I'll ride at full speed to that location while the rest of the caravan returns to the tribe. If it's a trap, I'll scout first and fall into it alone. The others will return safely. But if they're just bodies—real people who've fallen—I'll bring them back with me. Once inside the tribe, no harm can come from them."
The leader regarded him silently.
"You realize you'll be risking your life?" he asked.
Baole nodded without hesitation. "I do."
The leader exhaled deeply, studying Baole's resolve.
"Then take five men. Go."
Baole's eyes lit with quiet gratitude. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," the leader said. "This is your choice. At full speed, you'll reach them in a day. Another two days to return. Be cautious."
"I will," Baole said, and without another word, he turned his horse and galloped off into the desert, five men following close behind.