Kairos held his breath, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. With deliberate caution, he kicked at his makeshift stove, scattering the rocks that housed the weak flame. His foot pushed against the embers with just enough force to snuff out the fire, the soles of his shoes doing their best to smother the last glowing hints of heat.
Smoke hissed faintly as it met the dampness of dirt. He dared not breathe too loudly—every sound, every motion, felt like a betrayal in this desolate, dangerous pit. No matter how quiet he was, it didn't matter. The scorpion beast, that monstrous deviant from the abyss, was far too perceptive.
It could feel the vibrations in the ground.
And it was closing in.
Fast.
Kairos heard it before he saw it—the rapid thump of its multi-legged dash, claws raking against the earth as it surged toward the very rock he crouched behind. The air turned heavy, filled with the primal dread of prey sensing a predator too close for comfort.
