William glanced at the unconscious Nicolas through the coachman's window. Rain pounded against the roof as the carriage thundered down the muddy path. Gritting his teeth, the blacksmith clenched the reins tighter.
He shouted into the storm, though he knew Sebastian couldn't hear him.
"Come back alive, dammit!"
The rain blurred his vision, and the cold wind lashed at his face. His hands trembled as he gripped the lizard's reins.
—Shit. What do I do? What do I do?
Adrenaline surged through his veins, but the panic clouded his thoughts. All he could focus on was getting as far from the beasts as possible—fast.
—How did everything spiral out of control so quickly?
An ambush from unknown creatures. Leaving a comrade behind. Carrying a sick boy he couldn't help. It was too much, too fast—and it was overwhelming him.
Nicolas hadn't woken up. If anything, his condition looked worse. His skin was even paler now, his body limp. Still, William could hear his shallow, strained breathing.
"Hang in there, Nicolas. Please."
The ground lizards were already pushing beyond their limits. If they pushed any harder, they'd collapse from exhaustion—but William urged them forward anyway.
They understood.
As if sensing the urgency, the lizards dug their claws into the wet earth and pressed on, ignoring the fatigue dragging at their limbs.
But while the lizards kept going, the carriage couldn't take it. It was well-built, but everything had a breaking point—and William had pushed it beyond its own.
The worst came without warning.... A loud crack rang out.
One of the wheels shattered, corroded by something—poisonous beast saliva. The axle twisted violently, sending the carriage lurching sideways.
The lizards panicked and broke free of their harnesses. William, still holding the reins, was yanked into the air. His world flipped. The sky spun. The ground rushed up to meet him.
He slammed into the earth.
Then rolled.
Each impact shot pain through his body—bones cracked, joints twisted. He tumbled like a ragdoll until his back struck something solid, a wall. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He gasped, chest heaving, vision swimming.
And then, he heard it, the rumble of the runaway carriage.
He looked up.
It was coming toward him—dragged by momentum, wobbling violently on three wheels. Slower, yes… but still fast enough to crush him.
His body screamed to stay down, but instinct roared louder.
With a surge of desperation, William threw himself out of the way just in time. He hit the ground hard—again—as the carriage smashed into the wall behind him.
Debris scattered everywhere.
"Nicolas!"
Pain burned through his entire body, but he forced himself to rise. Dragging one leg behind him, he limped toward the wreckage.
Inside the shattered frame of the carriage, Nicolas lay unconscious. Miraculously, he was unharmed.
William leaned in, checking for a pulse. Faint. But steady. He let out a heavy breath of relief and carefully pulled the boy into his arms. As he hoisted him onto his back, William blinked in surprise.
—He's… light.
Had he always been this light?
The blacksmith staggered forward, each step a battle against the pain tearing through his limbs. His legs wanted to buckle. His muscles screamed for rest. But he refused.
—No. Not now. Not when we've come this far.
He kept moving and then, he stopped.
His eyes widened because there it was, the entrance.
A towering stone archway carved into the mountainside, partially hidden by vines and overgrowth.
The Serpent's Path.
William could hardly believe it. After everything—the ambush, the crash, the pain—he had somehow arrived.
He didn't know how long it would take to reach the other side. And turning back wasn't an option. Not anymore.
Taking a deep breath, he adjusted Nicolas on his back and stepped forward—into the dark mouth of the tunnel.
For something supposedly shaped by nature, the entrance looked anything but natural. William had expected a crude hole in the mountain, something rugged and wild.
Instead, he found an archway framed with block stones.
Worn and crumbling, yes—but unmistakably man-made.
Several stones had broken loose, some scattered at the base, as if there'd been a scuffle. Scratches and gouges marked the walls. Maybe forest creatures had wandered in and made a mess of it.
Still, if he hadn't known any better, William might have said—
—It looks like the entrance to a tomb.
Cautiously, he peeked inside. Darkness. Absolute and consuming.
—Great. How am I supposed to see?
As if in answer, a torch mounted further down the tunnel suddenly flared to life.
The sudden light made William tense, feet instinctively taking a step back. It felt like some kind of magical sensor had triggered—like he'd tripped a trap he couldn't see.
—Yeah. This is definitely man-made.
Slowly, he stepped toward the torch.
—No enemies. Nothing coming for me… yet. Guess I can breathe—for now.
He examined the torch and tried to pull it free. If he could carry it with him, it would at least help light the way.
But it wouldn't budge.
—What the hell? Is it… glued to the wall?!
William let out a frustrated sigh. Was he supposed to travel through the tunnel without a light source?
His thoughts turned to the boy on his back. Nicolas was still breathing, faint and shallow. William could feel the rise and fall of his chest.
He didn't have the luxury to hesitate. The boy needed him. No matter what lay ahead.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed forward into the tunnel. Then, as soon as he stepped past the first torch, it extinguished. A second torch ahead of him lit up.
—Ah. So that's how it works.
Every time he passed a torch, the next one flared to life while the one behind snuffed out. It wasn't lighting the path for him so much as directing him through it.
He was never allowed to see more than a few feet ahead.
—Strange for a straight path. Why have a system like this?
Whatever the reason, it left him nearly blind to what waited beyond each light.
Still, he didn't stop.
—I can't afford to show weakness. Not while someone else is holding the line.
He thought of the butler—the man he left behind.
Sebastian had stayed behind to fight an ever-growing horde of beasts, and for all William knew, they were still multiplying.
—Did he get outnumbered? Is he still alive?
"Trust me."
William recalled his words. He needed to have more faith in him.
He paused, wiping sweat from his brow, then glanced back at Nicolas. Still breathing. With a renewed sense of urgency, William pressed on.
Minutes passed. Or hours. He couldn't tell.
—Shouldn't I have seen the exit by now?
Frustration grew. He picked up his pace, ignoring the burning pain in his limbs, the pounding in his skull. He had to reach the other side. Fast.
Then, something squelched beneath his boot.
He stopped.
—What the... a puddle?
Curious, he stepped back and tugged off his boot, bringing it toward the previous torch's dying glow.
—Wait... this isn't water. This is... red?
His eyes followed the faint trail. He couldn't see clearly, but he could feel where it led.
The next torch lit up ahead and his breath caught.
There, bathed in flickering orange light, were two of the beasts—gnawing on the corpses of two dead men.