Kael slept for what seemed like an eternity. Time stretched out in a disorienting haze, the days bleeding into one another in a blur of unconsciousness.
His body felt like it was submerged in a thick fog, every muscle aching, every fiber heavy with the exhaustion of a fight that had drained him more than he thought was possible.
The world around him felt distant, unreal, like he was floating in some half-formed dream that refused to settle.
Lucian had been with him for much of it, Kael's silent, watchful guardian through the haze of his fevered sleep.
The healer had been unrelenting in his care, checking on Kael's wounds, making sure that the infection from his battle didn't claim him as its next victim.
Lucian had been clear about the severity of his injuries, telling him that he'd come close to dying.
"Nearly fatal," Lucian had said more than once, his voice heavy with the weight of the words.
But Kael wasn't ready to die. Not like this. Not yet.
Every time he drifted in and out of sleep, those thoughts anchored him. He had just arrived in this world—everything was still new, still raw and unexplored. There was so much more to learn, so much more to experience. The world was vast, full of secrets and stories, and Kael had barely scratched the surface.
As he slowly regained consciousness, the dreamlike quality of his surroundings didn't change. The cavernous walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own.
The light around him was muted, like the sun had forgotten how to shine properly.
Kael's mind drifted in and out of focus, struggling to catch up with the present moment. But despite the disorienting fog, there was one thought that always brought him back: things couldn't stay like this. Not like this.
He made a vow to himself, a promise that repeated over and over in the quiet corners of his mind as his body fought to heal.
If I wake up, I'll be free. I'll escape this. I won't stay a slave to the Royals, to this endless cycle of suffering and servitude. The words echoed like a chant, rising up in his chest, filling him with a strange sense of determination. He wasn't just going to survive. He was going to break free.
As his thoughts wandered, Kael thought of Tuck—the old man who had been here longer than anyone else, bound to the mines as if he were an ancient fixture of the place.
Kael had always wondered about his purpose, about why Tuck, with his gruff demeanor and weathered face, kept pushing forward despite everything. What keeps him going? Kael thought, his mind clouded but curious. What keeps him from giving up, like the others?
The old man had lived in these mines for years, his back bent with the weight of labor, his skin hardened by the years of toil beneath the unforgiving ground.
Tuck had no dreams left, no illusions about freedom, no fire in his eyes.
But Kael… Kael could still remember the spark of something when he first met the older man. The fire that hadn't been completely extinguished.
Kael couldn't imagine living like that. Not anymore. He had seen too much, learned too much, felt too much. And what was there to look forward to in this life? Another day of hard labor? Another year, or two, or five—hell, a lifetime—of being nothing more than a cog in the machine that kept the Royals in power, that kept the world running the way it always had?
No. Kael would rather die now than waste away in these mines, shackled to the same fate that had consumed so many before him. The promise of freedom—of a life that wasn't dictated by chains—was too strong to ignore.
There had to be a way out. And if he was going to find it, he had to wake up—he had to live.
Kael let the thought settle deep in his bones, a silent vow that would carry him through whatever came next. When he opened his eyes, he would be ready. Ready to take control of his own destiny, to make his own path, no longer tethered to a life he hadn't chosen.
The world would change. It had to.
*******
"How are they?" Ryker's voice cracked slightly as he spoke, his usual gruffness tinged with the weight of worry. He stood above Lucian, his eyes fixed on Elysia.
Lucian knelt by her side, his hand cool against her fevered skin as he wiped her forehead with a damp cloth. His gaze flickered briefly to Ryker.
He hesitated, unsure if he should offer the fragile thread of hope or just speak the truth that gnawed at him. The uncertainty in his chest was just as thick as the silence around them.
"They're surviving," he said simply. "For now."
Ryker breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." But his relief only lasted a moment.
"We're continuing to mine the obsidian, but… we're behind. Really behind." He ran a hand over his face, a grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Missing half our crew... it's really taking a toll. We're barely holding it together down there."
"The officials come back tomorrow?"
Ryker's face darkened, and for a brief moment, Lucian saw something like fear flicker in his eyes. But it was gone almost immediately, buried beneath his usual stoic exterior. "We don't have much time now. This is the final stretch."
"What do we do if…?"
Ryker's gaze hardened, and he quickly cut him off, not wanting to entertain the idea, even for a moment. "I don't wanna think about that. Not yet. I'm gonna get back to it."
He had massive bags under his eyes. His posture slouched with exhaustion. How much longer could he keep pushing forward?
"Understood," he replied, though he wasn't sure if he understood at all.
"Get them better, alright?'
"I will," he said confidently. It was a promise. Elysia and Kael would survive this. They had to.