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Seeing no one, he cautiously inched forward on a crawl. Panic made his heart beat erratically, like an insect’s wings. The sound of loose dirt and sedimentary rocks shifting told him something was watching. But who? Or what? He hadn’t seen anyone since he had awoken. Where was Caius? He had been with him. Surely he had also been captured?

Rymedur shifted closer to the cavern wall, and the unmistakable sound of skin scraping sharp rock had him hissing and cursing. ‘Fuck!’

Ears clogged, it was like the word was garbled underwater, faint and muffled.

The shadows in the corner crawled closer, the darkness shifting like a feline, curious to see what he would do.

Ignoring the shifting shadows, Rymedur worked on moving his toes, curling them as he did his fingers. When he felt the same pain in his leg, he bit down hard on his lip to stifle a groan. Biting until he could taste blood, he did not stop until the sensation subsided and he was finally able to roll his ankles.

Rymedur needed to get his body to move faster if he wanted to escape before his captors returned. Turning his body, he lay flat on his stomach, panting through clenched teeth. Once his knees and elbows could bend, he turned his head to the side, the hard, wet ground rough against his cheek. After a deep inhale, Rymedur used his forearms to push himself up until his knees could take his weight, and wobbling on shaking limbs, breath sawing out of him, he heaved in precious air.

Pain flooded his veins, and his limbs shook in protest when he forced himself to his feet. Stumbling forward, Rymedur stretched out his arms to catch himself. Slam! Toppling, his hands took the impact as he fell into hard metal.

Wait! Metal, not rock?

Rymedur wrapped his fingers around something cylindrical and metallic. It felt rusted in places, but he knew what this was—bars. He was in some sort of jail. However, this was not what had his eyes widening in surprise. It was the slight screech of metal against stone as he leaned his body into them.

The bars were open.

Rymedur had no weapons. Whoever had taken him had stripped him bare; the only thing left was his father’s chain around his neck. Of course, it was. Rymedur himself couldn’t remove the gift from his father. But it didn’t matter; his mind instantly screamed at him to escape, to protect himself. There wasn’t a reality in which Rymedur would die here; he would make it back to his family, and he would make it back to Areanel, wherever she was. He had to.

Rymedur used whatever strength he had left to push open the metal bars, praying there weren’t guards on the other side of the cell. And, it would have worked, had his legs not immediately crumpled as soon as he let go of the rusted bars.

He careened forward, but the tunnel beyond his small cell was so tight that Rymedur lurched into the opposite wall. Groaning, his right hand came up to his injured side. Where the hell was he?

He had no option but to shuffle along the tunnel, further into the darkness, hoping he was going the right way.

Grateful for the wall’s support, Rymedur moved his limbs—still as weak as jelly, skin burning from where it had scraped against the cavern’s unforgiving foundation—forcing himself forward.

One thought barrelled through his mind: Escape.

The cold bit his bare skin. Bare feet scraping against the sharp, rocky ground, his movements were slow; Rymedur was just glad the pin-pricking sensation in his legs was starting to ease, allowing him to move on his own.

There were no other bars, no other cells, and he had no idea where they might be keeping the others.

Pushing himself forward, his nostrils flared. He would make it out of here. Sudden strength coursed through his veins—enough for him to step, teetering, towards the end of the tight tunnel. Rymedur would do anything, kill anyone, to get back to his family. He had no idea where Areanel was, but one thing was for sure… he would find her.

Leaning his forearm against the wall, Rymedur bowed his head, ignoring the stalagmites that reached, stretching fingers ready to grab him. How much further? Rymedur was panting. Was he even going the right way? The throbbing pain in his side was slowing him down, and every time he tried calling on his shadows for assistance…

Ugh! How long until whatever was in his system faded? Rymedur couldn’t take it. Shadows teased at the edge of his mind, there but unreachable. The more Rymedur tried to reach for them, the further they drifted. Something was veiling them. He grasped, but they slipped through his fingers like black smoke.

Weak. Undeserving. Unfit. Rymedur could hear the darkness’ whispers.

Maybe it wasn’t the shadows at all. Perhaps it was the same dark god that had invaded his dreams weeks ago.

Weak. Undeserving. Unfit. They seemed to repeat on a loop like a war drum in his ears, but what did they believe he was undeserving of? A roar echoed through the tunnels, and Rymedur’s head swivelled, eyes darting, but he was met only with the oppressive weight of the dark void that stretched in either direction. What monster was trapped down here with him? Another rumble shook the cave, walls trembling beneath his fingers as the very cavern seemed to agree with the whispering darkness.

Eventually, Rymedur came to a lit section of cavern with what appeared to be man-made stairs. Pieces of oak had been fashioned into makeshift platforms. They creaked beneath his weight.

Looking up to the ceiling, Rymedur marvelled at the sight. It was as if the stars had been plucked from the night sky and hidden within the cavern, a gem concealed from the world. With the light now barely illuminating the way forward, he took a moment to glance down at himself; bare as the day he was born—but he huffed a quick sigh of relief at the sight of his shadows, which still clung to him. They were dark against his arms, curving over his shoulders and coiling down his chest. Dormant, unable to move, but still there—visible in the blue- and green-hued lights that dotted the ceiling’s expanse.

Blue and green. The colours immediately made him think about the brilliant sky-blue eyes he had fallen in love with and his children’s identical moss eyes. The thought brought forth new determination—and another concern: Where were the guards?

Rymedur reached the top of the steep incline, and the bioluminescence illuminated a dim glow around the once-oppressive dark, making it gleam with a multitude of colours. Rymedur had not seen another soul.

‘Almost there,’ Rymedur whispered to himself. An encouragement? A reassurance? He wasn’t certain. Breath ragged and strained, one arm wrapped around his mid-section over his wound—the slice a jagged horizontal cut—he continued.

Strength was slowly returning to his aching muscles, but his movements were still too languid for his liking. Turning his attention inward, Rymedur tried again to grasp at his shadows, willing them to respond.