The wind outside the cave carried the dust of distant plains, which were barely visible to the eyes of the group due to the dark.
It moved softly through the grassless earth, curling into the narrow entrance before dissolving into the shadows. Inside, the air was cool, heavy with the scent of damp stone and faint traces of moss that clung to the walls like forgotten paint.
Tervain stepped in first, brushing his fingers against the wall. His enthusiastic mood didn't change, but he paused to feel the texture—rough, layered with salt and time. He didn't say what he was thinking.
"This'll do," he murmured.
Sky ducked inside next, his metal boots scraping against the stone. "You mean this is supposed to be a rest? Great. Love the cave aesthetic."
Tervain didn't respond. He set his bag down and began to inspect the surroundings: the thin mushrooms crawling from cracks, the uneven ground, the faint glimmer of moisture where light struck a mineral vein. He had odd moments of seriousness and sometimes moved like someone taking inventory of a life he couldn't afford to lose.
Verrith lingered near the entrance. His eyes followed the horizon—the black sweep of the sky, the fading outline of something that might have once been a road. He watched until the shapes blurred and only pitch remained. Then he turned back, wordless, and sat beside the wall.
Sky groaned as he sat down, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "You guys are too energetic for me to handle."
"What do you mean?" Tervain asked, his face hidden behind a helmet but his never changing enthusiastic tone present.
"You guys were moving for 2-4 hours staring at around 17Km per hour and you call walking?" Sky replied, annoyance present on his face faintly.
Verrith gave a low chuckle, but it faded quickly, more like an exhale than laughter.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was the kind that simply existed, the kind that traveled with people who had already said too much in other lives.
Tervain knelt beside the mushroom clusters, cutting a few with a small blade and examining their undersides. "These will be for later," he said.
Sky tilted his head. "Are you sure they're not poisonous?"
"If they were, I'd know by now."
"That's not comforting."
"Trust my skills in this will you?."
For a moment, Verrith watched the two of them and wondered if this is what a balanced dynamic was.
The cave carried small sounds: dripping water somewhere deep within, the soft shuffle of their packs, Sky's restless sighs. Outside, the light shifted toward orange.
They stayed there for about an hour. Enough to breathe, but not enough to feel rested.
When they left, the world outside was still dark. The darkness stretched long over the plains, hiding the cracks of the earth.
They walked.
The journey ahead was quiet. The land was neither dead nor alive—somewhere in between, The grass from the grass lands stood as tall as 4 feet and there were often ground patches with no grass in between the grass field liminal stretch of stone and dust where even sound felt hesitant.
After 2 hours of walking, they came across a rusted signpost laid half-buried in the dirt, its lettering long gone. A faded carving of a hand pointed west, toward the faint shimmer of heat rising off distant hills.
Verrith slowed for a moment as they passed it. "This used to be something," he said quietly.
Sky didn't stop walking. "Everything used to be something."
Tervain looked at Sky and said, "That sounds like a quite nice quote, I'mma steal it for my future novel."
Sky's tone was even. "I'm amazed at your ability to take inspiration."
[Pretty surprising to see an enthusiastic person like him nowadays.] the shadow spoke to Sky, barely visible in the dark.
At one point, they came across the shell of a house, its walls half-collapsed, roof missing. A rusted kettle sat beside the threshold, filled with dirt and a single stubborn weed.
Sky paused, peering in. "Someone used to live here, I guess."
"Someone always used to live somewhere," Verrith murmured, trying to copy Sky's way of speaking
"Do you think they moved to the new city or do you think they got killed, one day and this house got neglected" Verrith asked
Tervain glanced at him briefly. "Well I sure hope it's the first one."
They moved on.
The night stretched thin. Eight hours blurred into one long step.
By the time the night started to be a bit brighter, the night sky slowly regained color, the air was becoming less cool and freezing, and the shadows grew more faint. A quiet fatigue set into Sky's and Verrith's bones, the kind that wasn't just physical.
When they finally found another cave, the relief was silent. No cheers, no celebration—just a collective exhale.
This cave was larger than the last, its entrance narrow but widening into a chamber scattered with pale mineral veins that caught the firelight like veins of glass once the fire was lit.
Tervain unpacked the mushrooms, arranging them on a small cloth. His movements were mechanical, almost graceful in their repetition.
Sky and Verrith sat in the cave while Tervain went to get something to make a fire.
Soon Tervain came back and started to make a fire.
Sky slumped beside the fire pit and observed Tervain's attempt to make a fire, it took him exactly 1 minute and 34 seconds.
Tervain took out a large metal cooking pot and put water in it and hung it on a wood, just barely over the fire.
He took out some healthy and tasty but rare plants he found on the way and cut it with a small dagger and put them in and then took out a bit of dried meat from the travel bag he carried and put them in and then used some of the water from his canteen to wash it all up, including the mushrooms he found in the cave.
"If you had dried meat, Why did you not use this yesterday?" Verrith asked
Tervain stirred the pot, "No this is some recent dried meat I made by smoking it for a long time so I wasn't sure if it was ready."
Verrith smiled faintly at the comforting smell, the corner of his mouth barely moving.
As the stew cooked, the cave filled with an earthy smell. The warmth softened the cold in their hands.
Sky sniffed the air. "You know… this actually smells good but it lacks something."
Tervain looked at Sky and asked him, "What do you mean?."
"Seasoning."Sky said as he took out a small pouch from his void and out a bit of the mixed seasoning in the pot.
"Seasoning? I thought I wouldn't see it here. At best all I found in my life was some salt and a bit of grinded herbs but I see that you have 7 in it" Tervain said, a bit amazed at the pure amount of resources he has.
"Don'y be amazed, It's not too difficult to find them expect for 1 of them."
"And what's that?"
"Nutmeg." Sky said, "Nutmeg is literally gone from existence, either by the forces in this world causing mutations or some due to some monsters. And while I have found some substitute for it, it's still very hard to find and this was before a long time when I was last on the ground so I'm not sure if it still exists."
"That's interesting…" Tervian said putting his hand on his chin.
"What's a nutmeg?" Verrith asked, confused.
"Nutmeg is a spice derived from the seed of the Myristicacap fragrans tree, used for its warm, slightly sweet flavor in both sweet and savory dishes." Sky replied.
Sky tasted it, then blinked. "Wait—this is… really good?"
Tervain didn't react.
Sky frowned. "You've been holding out on us, haven't you?"
"No."
"Yes," Sky muttered, taking another bite. "You totally have."
The conversation faded into the crackle of fire. Outside, the night deepened—an ocean of black threaded with faint stars.
After they ate, they sat in silence for a while. Sky poked at the dying embers with a stick, watching sparks drift upward and vanish.
Verrith looked toward the cave's mouth, where the moon hung pale and small. "How far do you think we are from the city?"
Tervain answered without looking up. "Two, maybe three days. If the terrain stays like this."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then longer."
Soon the food got ready and Tervain served them the food in a bowl.
Verrith's eyes lit up instantly as he ate it. For him, the best food he had even eaten was an extremely salty piece of dried meat, cold mushroom soup and some milk when he was a baby. This was a real eye opener.
Sky, who is guessing his situation, smiled slightly at Verrith's reaction.
"Well I'll guard and keep watch just in case, so enjoy your meal" Tervain said as he stood up
Sky asked, "Aren't you gonna eat? You didn't eat yesterday, hell you didn't even sleep yesterday."
"Don't worry, ever since I became an undead, I haven't needed to sleep or eat."
"Then why did you even smoke meat in advance or make beds or even have medicine since I believe you also have no use for it."
"hmm…I guess I wanted to feel like a human even if for a moment. Though I'm not sure."
Sky shook his head. "You're a kind one aren't you."
For a moment, Tervain laughed—quietly, without much force, but enough to loosen something in the air.
The laughter died away naturally, leaving behind a calm that felt earned.
Sky leaned back against his pack. "Guess I'll try to sleep. Not that it'll work."
[Doesn't mean you shouldn't try] The shadow said to Sky
"You should try your best," Tervain said softly, as he faced the entrance of the cave looking out for any danger.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll try. Goodnight, Verrith." Sky said to Verrith as he was probably the only one who would sleep tonight.
Tervain looked over at Sky before turning back. He stayed by the fire, his empty eyes mostly covered by the helmet, slightly reflecting faint orange light.
Verrith lay down but didn't close his eyes immediately. His gaze wandered to the ceiling.
He felt tired, but not the kind that sleep could fix.
Somewhere in the rhythm of crackling wood and Sky's uneven breathing, his mind drifted.
The sound of wind outside became softer. The world around him faded until the cave, the warmth, the air—everything—slid away.
— ✦ —
He stood in a place that might have been a memory.
The air was colorless. The ground breathed. The horizon folded in on itself like fabric.
A house stood ahead of him, half-formed and shivering. The walls flickered—wood one moment, paper the next. Through the windows, he saw movement: hands pressed to glass, disappearing when he blinked.
He took a step. The grass underfoot whispered, "Don't."
Trying to advise him but he ignored it.
Inside, the air was thick. The walls were covered in sheets of paper-scribbled drawings, faded handwriting, dreams nailed into place like trophies.
He saw one note flutter down and caught it before it hit the ground. The ink was fresh.
"I want to be kind."
His breath hitched. The handwriting was small, childish, too familiar.
Behind him, a voice spoke, "Did you ever manage that?"
He turned.
His brother stood at the doorway, or something shaped like him. His eyes were hollow—not empty, just full of something else.
Verrith tried to speak, but the air had weight. The words stayed stuck behind his teeth.
"You're a demon who brings hell into this world and makes everyone suffer while suffering yourself."
The papers on the wall began to curl and blacken, their edges burning silently.
His brother tilted his head. "You tried so hard to be good, didn't you? Even when no one asked you to."
After a while, Verrith shook his head. "No. I didn't."
"Oh really? Then why did it hurt to see him suffer? Even though you convinced yourself in you mind that he was a bad person who deserved it, why did you heart ache in pain?"
The question hung in the air, twisting into something sharp. The house creaked, stretching, folding inward.
He stepped back, and suddenly the ground gave way beneath him—no warning, no sound—just a soft collapse.
He landed in a field. But it wasn't grass now. It was ash, soft and fine, rising around him like snow.
The horizon pulsed faintly, a line of reddish orange in the distance.
A shadow moved within it.
He saw his father there—sitting by something that might have been a fire, though the flames were dark. His shoulders trembled. In his hand, a knife.
Verrith's throat tightened. "Father?"
The man didn't look up. His voice came low, cracking.
"I told you not to watch."
"I just felt like I had to." Verity replied surprised at his own words as he became confused as his memories became fainter.
"You shouldn't have. It made you like me." His father said as he hid his expression.
Then, a knife clattered to the ground. The shadow rippled and folded into the soil, leaving only the echo of his words.
Verrith took a step forward, but the earth dissolved under his feet. He stumbled—caught himself—and found he was standing again in the same room, except now the papers were blank.
Every single paper. Every single one.
He reached for one and pressed it to his chest. Nothing happened. It stayed blank.
A child's voice spoke behind him—high, trembling.
"Write it again."
He turned. His younger self stood there, holding a piece of charcoal, eyes wide and wet.
"Write it again," the boy repeated. "Before it fades."
Verrith hesitated. "What if it's a lie?"
The boy smiled. It was a small, broken smile. "Then it'll still be yours."
He reached for the charcoal.
The paper pulsed once, and the ink began to spread, forming the word kind, but before it could finish, the world shattered.
The sound vanished. Light fractured.
He was falling again, this time through a darkness that didn't feel empty—it felt crowded. Faces, whispers, memories brushing past like cold wind.
And through it all, one thought echoed faintly:
'Kindness is something you chase even when you can't feel it anymore.'
Verrith then saw his reflection, his figure still pitch black and the only thing that was a different colour was his tired eyes.
— ✦ —
Verrith woke with heavy breathing that soon calmed down within less then a couple seconds but his heart was pounding. The fire was mostly ash now, faint red veins glowing beneath gray dust.
The cave was still.
Tervain sat where he had been all night, posture unchanged, blade resting across his knees. His eyes met Verrith's briefly. "Bad dream?"
Verrith nodded, then shook his head. "Something like that."
"What time is it?" Verrith asked.
"The sun is almost up," Tervain said.
"This happen often?" Sky asked as he looked at Verrith.
"N-" Verrith interrupted himself as he stiffened his fingers from twitching when he spoke before continuing, "No, just occasionally."
Liar. Very odd. Maybe tired. The voice behind Sky spoke to him.
[Could be it since we know he's lying but let's wait till the next time we sleep and check if he still has nightmares before making a conclusion.]
'And then what' Sky thought, asking and even questioning Shadow's future behavior.
"You other hand is shaking" Sky said to Verrith
Verrith didn't respond, realising his own feelings. His hands which had trembled faintly were clasped together to hide it.
"You okay?" Sky asked softly.
He took a long breath, looked toward the faint moonlight creeping through the cave mouth, and whispered, "I'm fine."
The lie hung there, thin but deliberate.
Tervain didn't press. He only turned his gaze back to the fire, his expression unreadable due to the helmet but his tone was oddly ever cheerful when he spoke before.
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it carried something gentle. Not comfort exactly, but understanding.
Verrith stayed awake, watching the last embers fade. He thought about the paper, the word that never finished, and the boy who asked him to write again.
Outside, the night thinned. The stars dimmed. The horizon began to pale—faint light spilling into the cave like a secret trying to be remembered.
None of them spoke.
The fire died quietly, leaving only the soft breath of the wind.
And when the sun finally rose, its light didn't reach the back of the cave—it just lingered at the edge, waiting.