Lucian threw the lantern.
It spun through the air, a dying star of yellow light that vanished into the white void. Darkness crashed back in instantly, swallowing the path, the mountains, and the boy.
He ran.
He didn't know where he was going. The fog was a blindfold, thick and suffocating, hiding the treacherous terrain beneath his boots. Every step was a gamble—a slip on the ice or a twisted ankle meant death. But standing still meant becoming a meal.
Move. Just move.
Behind him, the monster didn't run. It didn't need to.
Lucian could hear the rhythmic thud... thud... thud of its massive legs striking the ground. It was walking with terrifying patience. The fog seemed to part around its bulk, recoiling from the creature's presence, while the snow crunched in submission beneath its weight.
Lucian's lungs burned. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps that misted inside his visor. His body was already at its limit—starving, exhausted, his wrists raw and bloody from the chains of the slave column. His legs felt like lead weights dragging him down.
I can't... I can't breathe...
He risked a glance over his shoulder.
The blood drained from his face.
The silhouette in the fog had changed. Above the hulking torso, the three heads were no longer shapeless shadows. Twelve eyes—four on each head—ignited all at once. They glowed a deep, malevolent red, piercing through the gray mist like warning lights.
The creature was done playing.
The rhythmic walking stopped. The ground shook.
ROAR.
The sound wasn't just a noise; it was a physical force. The monster lunged, abandoning its slow stalk for a feral rush. It closed the distance in seconds, a juggernaut of muscle and stone tearing through the passage.
"Shit!" Lucian choked out, forcing his screaming legs to pump faster.
But it wasn't enough. The sound of heavy breathing—wet, guttural, smelling of rot—washed over his neck.
The creature raised two of its upper arms, the massive stone claws gleaming in the dull light. It swung downward, aiming to cleave Lucian in half.
Lucian threw himself to the left, a desperate, clumsy dodge.
RIP.
The claws missed his spine but caught the edge of his backplate. Steel shrieked. The force of the blow knocked Lucian forward, and he felt a sharp, hot line of pain sear across his back where the claws had found the gap in the armor.
"Ugh..."
He stumbled but didn't fall. Warm blood trickled down his skin, a stark contrast to the freezing cold.
It hurts. It hurts so much.
I'm going to die here. I'm going to be eaten in this fog.
No.
The monster didn't stop. It crouched low, its muscles coiling like springs. Lucian heard the snow compacting beneath it. It was preparing to jump. It was going to crush him flat.
Lucian scanned the wall of the mountain beside him, his eyes frantic, searching for anything—a cave, a ledge, a miracle.
There.
A jagged black line ran vertically through the rock face. A fissure. It was narrow, barely wide enough for a man, a scar in the mountain's skin.
BOOM.
The monster launched itself into the air. The sound was like a thunderclap.
Lucian didn't look back. He threw himself at the mountain.
He hit the rock hard, scrapping his armor against the stone, and shoved himself sideways into the crack. He sucked in his stomach, twisting his body, forcing himself deeper into the fissure just as a massive shadow blotted out the gray light.
CRASH.
The monster landed exactly where Lucian had been standing a second ago. The impact shook the mountain. Dust and snow sprayed into the crack, blinding Lucian.
He held his breath. He pressed his back against the rough, freezing stone, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he was sure the monster could hear it. Thump-thump, thump-thump.
Don't move. Don't breathe. Be a stone.
Outside, the monster snarled.
Sniff... Sniff.
The sound of wet inhalation echoed right outside the opening. The creature was hunting. It knew the prey was here. It swiped a claw at the rock face, sending sparks flying, but the fissure was too deep, too narrow for the massive beast to reach inside.
Minutes passed. They felt like hours.
Eventually, the sniffing stopped. The monster let out a frustrated growl, the sound vibrating through the rock and into Lucian's spine. Then, the heavy footsteps returned—slow, rhythmic—moving away. Fading into the mist.
It was gone.
Lucian slumped against the cold stone, sliding down until he sat on the uneven floor of the crack.
"Huff... huff..."
The pain in his back flared up instantly, a throbbing ache that made him wince. He reached back, his fingers coming away sticky with blood. It wasn't deep—the armor had taken the brunt of it—but it stung like fire.
I almost lost my head, he thought, staring at his trembling hands. One second slower, and I would be paste on the snow.
He sat there in the darkness of the fissure, letting the adrenaline fade. The cold began to creep back in, seeping through the cracks in his armor.
His stomach growled, a painful, cramping reminder of his other problem.
With shaking hands, Lucian reached into the pouch at his waist. He pulled out the piece of bread he had stolen. It was frozen solid, hard as a rock.
He didn't care.
He brought it to his mouth and bit down, his jaw aching as he chewed the icy dough. It had no flavor. It was dry and cold. But as he swallowed, he felt a tiny spark of energy return.
He leaned his head back against the stone wall, chewing slowly, staring out at the sliver of gray fog visible through the crack.
He was bleeding. He was freezing. He was trapped in a mountain with a monster outside.
But he was alive.