The first light of dawn never came suddenly in this world.
It seeped in slowly—thin, gray, trembling—as if unsure whether it was allowed to exist at all.
The edge of the sun hovered low behind a veil of cloud and dust, offering no warmth, only a faint suggestion of morning.
The three of them stood at the cave entrance, quiet for different reasons.
Verrith blinked against the pale light, the remnants of his dream still burned into the edges of his vision.
There was no lingering panic—only a dull heaviness, like the bruised echo of something that had hit him long ago.
Sky stretched once, deliberately, as if forcing blood into half-sleeping muscles. He had barely rested. The shadow lingered faintly behind him, drawn thinner in the weak daylight, its shape uncertain.
Tervain, with his ever-present enthusiasm, clapped his hands together.
"Alright! Another beautiful, half-lit day for exploration!"
There was not a single thing beautiful about the land before them—nothing but gray plains, crooked stones, pale grass reaching barely to Verrith's knee, the wind pushing dust in slow spirals.
But Tervain still sounded like he believed what he said.
Verrith almost envied that.
Sky rubbed his eyes. "I wouldn't call this beautiful."
"Artistic, then," Tervain said. "Melancholic. Like a painting before it knows what it wants to be."
"Still not comforting," Sky muttered, "also how the hell did you suddenly start using metaphors like you been for years"
"Never said it was comforting." Tervain said ignoring the other half of Sky's muttering to avoid revealing that he was only thinking of metaphors or quotes for the whole night.
Verrith raised his hood as a gust swept across the mouth of the cave.
"Let's just go."
They packed up—Verrith folding Tervain's spare cloth, Sky cleaning the bowls and placing them into his void, Tervain humming as he kicked sand over the leftover ash.
No one mentioned the nightmare.
No one said anything about Verrith's twitching hands or his stiffness.
He was grateful for that.
He hadn't figured out what the dream truly meant, and he didn't want to try to explain it.
They began walking.
— ✦ —
The land changed gradually the farther they moved from the cave.
The grass grew taller—taller than it should have—and the earth beneath felt softer, like something underneath was breathing.
Wind rushed through the stalks, creating a sound that almost resembled whispers. Not words—just shapes of sound.
Sky paused, glancing around.
"…Do you hear that?"
Verrith listened. "The wind?"
"No. Like… murmuring."
Tervain cocked his head. "Sounds like gossiping grass."
"That's not normal."
"Nothing in this world is normal," Tervain said happily. "So this is normal."
Sky stared at him. "That makes no sense."
"Sense is relative," Tervain replied. "Especially here."
He said trying his absolute best to sound deep, it seems one somewhat deep but cringe dialogue from Sky was enough to give him an idea for a personality and he had just gone with it.
The undead said it with the tone of someone reciting a fact he had learned out of personal experience when in reality he had just said this after practising how to sound more wise and experienced.
Verrith wondered again just how long he had wandered this broken land.
They walked for several more minutes, the grass brushing against their shoulders now.
The sky overhead remained an unbroken, heavy gray—not cloudy, not clear, just muted.
The world felt like it was stuck halfway between being awake and asleep.
Verrith touched one of the grass stalks as they passed.
It bent under his hand, but didn't sway back upright.
"Is the land… dying?" he asked quietly.
Sky shrugged. "It's been like this for centuries."
"Longer," Tervain corrected gently. "Much longer. Before any of us were around."
Sky blinked. "Who's we? I been alive for longer to be honest"
"…I hope you eat chillies and cry" Tervain said, his tone still enthusiastic but a bit quieter.
And Sky didn't respond at Tervain's childish remark.
— ✦ —
Hours passed.
time stretched thirty-six-hour rhythm of this world, the time that made daylight feel like a fragile thing always on the verge of collapsing.
After about six hours of walking, Sky slowed down.
The ground changed again.
What had once been tall grass fell abruptly into a barren stretch of white stone.
Not cracked, not broken—smooth, seamless, as if carved by a single giant blade.
Verrith stepped onto it and froze.
"Is this… warm?"
The stone radiated heat faintly.
"It shouldn't be," Sky said. "There's no sunlight strong enough."
Tervain crouched and pressed both hands to the stone. "Oh! This isn't stone."
Sky stared. "What do you mean?"
Tervain tapped it twice. Tnk. Tnk.
Then he smiled under his helmet.
"It's bone."
Verrith jerked his foot back instantly.
"…What."
Tervain stood. "A giant creature died here a long time ago. The bone compacted and smoothened from wind erosion. Pretty normal, actually."
Sky shook his head sharply. "Normal here?!, how the hell and why did such a monster come to the plains where it wouldn't even find that much prey?"
"I don't know," Tervain said.
Verrith stared down at the pale surface. He swallowed, throat tight.
He'd walked through ruins, ash fields, dead forests—but there was something uniquely unsettling about walking across something that had once lived and was now large enough to be landscape.
Sky noticed the sudden stiffness in Verrith's shoulders.
"You okay?"
"…Yes."
It was a lie again, but this one felt smaller.
But Sky decided to not pry further into it.
— ✦ —
They continued across the bone-flat expanse for hours.
Eventually, the terrain shifted again—this time rising into broken pillars of stone and thin ridges of dark rock.
The air grew cooler.
Tervain stopped suddenly.
"We're close."
Sky raised an eyebrow. "Close to what?"
"Nothing good," Tervain said brightly.
Verrith blinked. "You're terrible at preparing people."
"Honesty is the best policy," Tervain replied, stepping forward.
The world ahead opened into a canyon—narrow, deep, walls lined with carvings worn nearly to dust.
Sky slowed. "…I've been here before."
"When?" Verrith asked.
Sky's shadow flickered behind him and said to Sky, [Hundreds of years ago.]
"Long time," Sky muttered. "Back when the world was… different."
"This is one of the old paths." He continued
"What's it for?" Verrith asked.
"Travel," Sky said. "Communication. Burial. Rituals. Take your pick. No one really remembers."
Verrith frowned. "How do you know?"
"I recalled."
Verrith blinked and Tervain didn't answer.
Which somehow made it worse.
— ✦ —
They entered the canyon.
Voices echoed strangely here—not repeating, not bouncing, just hanging like half-formed thoughts.
Sky stepped ahead cautiously, the shadow behind him tightening in shape.
The narrow path twisted and dipped, forcing them to move in single file.
Verrith slowed once, touching the wall again.
His fingertips brushed a carved spiral—and it pulsed faintly beneath his skin.
Not visually.
Not physically.
But he felt something shift, like a breath passing through stone.
"Sky?" Verrith whispered.
Sky turned. "Yeah?
"
"…This place feels wrong."
Sky studied him quietly.
"Everything here is wrong. But this one… yeah. This one is worse." Tervai said, replying to Verrith's comment.
Verrith's heartbeat quickened.
A moment later, the canyon opened into a vast circular chamber—a natural amphitheater walled by stone.
The center held a massive crack, wide enough for a grown man to fall into.
Sky stepped to the edge and looked down.
Nothing.
Just darkness.
"It looks like a throat," Verrith muttered before he could stop himself.
Tervain nodded. "Correct."
Verrith stared. "What?"
"It's called a World Throat," Sky said. "A fracture in the land's soul."
"Yes," Tervain said. "You can fall in if you want, but I don't recommend it."
"Why would anyone want to?" Sky asked.
Tervain shrugged. "Curiosity."
Sky stared at him. "…You really worry me sometimes."
"That makes two of us," Verrith whispered.
— ✦ —
They left the canyon behind, the terrain flattening again until the grasslands returned—but shorter now, tinged with silver rather than green.
By the time they reached a cluster of twisted trees with bare branches shaped like melted spirals, Sky glanced at the dimming horizon.
"We should stop here," he said.
Verrith and Tervain nodded at Sky's word.
They found shelter beneath the roots of a dead tree, hollowed out by time and weather.
Sky tried to organize the traveling gear.
Verrith sat quietly, his thoughts circling.
The nightmare had left a strange aftertaste—not fear, but a feeling of being watched by his own memories.
Sky noticed him staring at the ground.
"You're quiet."
Verrith didn't look up. "…I'm thinking."
"About the dream?"
Verrith hesitated. "Maybe."
Sky lowered himself beside him.
"Do you usually get dreams like that?"
"…Yes."
Then he corrected himself. "No."
Soon the silence crept between as it seemed like Verrith didn't want to talk about this anymore.
Tervain returned with an armful of mushrooms. "Dinner time!"
Sky squinted. "Please don't tell me you're only making mushrooms."
"I also found some plant roots!"
"Fantastic," Sky deadpanned even though he didn't mind the food as much.
Tervain cooked anyway—humming a cheerful tune while the pot simmered.
Verrith stared at the steam rising from the pot.
Something inside him tightened sharply.
His hands clenched against his knees.
Sky noticed.
"You're trembling again."
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing."
"It doesn't matter."
Sky leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Verrith. You don't have to talk about it. But don't pretend it doesn't matter."
For a moment, Verrith looked like he might answer.
His mouth even opened slightly.
But then, Tervain clapped loudly.
"Food's ready!"
Sky sighed deeply.
Verrith let the moment slip away like a dropped stone.
— ✦ —
They ate in silence.
The stew tasted faintly metallic, earthy, nothing like the warm meal in the previous cave.
The wind outside rustled the dying branches above.
When they finished, Sky lay down again—trying to sleep, even though both he and Verrith knew he wouldn't.
Tervain sat facing the plains, keeping watch as always.
Verrith settled beside a tree root, closing his eyes.
He didn't want to dream.
Not again.
Not now.
— ✦ —
Verrith jolted awake.
This time he didn't gasp.
Didn't tremble.
His eyes simply opened sharply, breath shallow and fast.
Tervain glanced over, cheerful tone softened by the quiet.
"Another bad dream?"
"…" Verrith stayed quiet
Sky sat up slowly. "You want to talk about it?"
Verrith shook his head. "I'm fine."
Sky raised an eyebrow. "Again?"
"I'm fine," Verrith repeated, more firmly this time.
He.Lie the voice behind Sky spoke as he recognised Verrrith's lie but
decided not to confront him about it.
Tervain didn't push.
Sky didn't either.
But both of them knew.
The embers of the fire glowed faintly, the world outside the roots shifting toward another gray dawn.
The land was quiet.
Too quiet