23. The Shadow of Despair

The wyrm isn’t gone.

It isn’t gone, and I know it.

Deep in my bones, I feel it—this pause is nothing but a façade, a cruel trick to make us believe we’re safe, that we’ve bought ourselves time. But the creature is still lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike.

My hands are slick with sweat.

The icy wind cuts across my skin, but I don’t feel the cold. I only feel the weight pressing against my chest—the fear of losing him. Shadow stands beside me, eyes fixed on the beast, glowing with a fierce intensity. His body is tense, coiled like a spring, ready to move—though we still don’t know where.

“What do we do now?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper lost in the wind.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes remain locked on the wyrm, still prowling, still searching for the smallest opening. His breathing is deep, steady, controlled—but I see the strain in his shoulders.

I see it.

The heavy burden of knowing this could be our final moment together, that everything might end in the space between heartbeats.

“We have to move, Eve,” he says at last, his voice low and steady. “We can’t stay here. There’s a small cave just ahead. If we reach it, we might be able to hide.”

I look at him, searching for any flicker of doubt in his eyes—but all I find is resolve. He’s ready to press on, to fight, to survive.

And I...

I just want to be with him—for even one second more.

Even if the cost is everything.

My heart pounds violently in my chest as adrenaline floods through me. I feel the weight of the choice before us: run or fight. There’s no time for hesitation, no space left for calculations.

Only action.

“Let’s go,” I say—my words barely audible, but infused with the same resolve that burns in Shadow.

We move in silence, each step light, quick, careful—not once taking our eyes off the wyrm.

The creature doesn’t seem to notice us, not yet.

It’s distracted, almost as if it’s searching for something else on the horizon.

I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. But we have no time to wonder.

The cave is close now, and as we near it, something strange stirs inside me.

There’s something in the air I can’t explain—maybe the nearness of the wyrm, maybe the crushing weight of what we’re facing. But deep down, I know this place is no simple refuge.

It’s a trap.

One we’ve set for ourselves.

“It’s close—just a bit farther,” Shadow tells me, and I hear the effort behind his words. The weight he carries is heavier than I ever wanted to admit. He’s not just fighting for his life—he’s fighting for mine.

And that’s something I can’t ignore.

We slip into the cave without a sound, seeking refuge in its shadows. The darkness is thick, and as our eyes adjust, I see the walls are covered in strange carvings—symbols I don’t recognize. Marks etched by something older than us. Much older.

We sink to the ground, our breathing ragged, silence settling over us like a suffocating veil.

Outside the cave, we hear nothing—only the distant rumble of the earth shifting whenever the wyrm moves.

“We’re safe. For now,” Shadow says—but he doesn’t sound convinced.

His face is lined with worry.

He looks like someone waiting for the next blow to fall.

And I...

I want to believe him.

I need to believe him.

But I can’t.

“How did we end up here, Shadow?”

My voice trembles—not from fear, but from the despair coiled deep inside me.

I want to understand.

I want to know how we got to this moment—fighting for our lives, for a love that feels cursed by every force in the universe.

“Why are we still fighting? Why are we still running?”

He turns to look at me—his eyes steady, intense, as though he can see every thought flashing through my mind.

“Because this is who we are,” he answers with a calm that startles me.

As if everything suddenly makes sense.

As if the answers have always been there, waiting for us to accept them.

“We are the ones who don’t give up.”

His words strike me like thunder.

The truth of who we are, of who we’ve been from the start.

Two lost souls who found each other in the heart of chaos and shadow.

And though we may be doomed, still—we fight.

“I can’t lose you,” Shadow whispers, and his voice is so soft, so raw, it shakes me.

Like a breath in a storm.

Like the last glimmer of hope in a world gone dark.

I can’t lose him either.

Not now.

Not ever.

And even though the truth of our situation is brutal, I know that if we don’t fight now—everything we’ve lived, every touch, every stolen moment—will vanish like a forgotten dream.

But there’s something more. Something I can’t ignore.

The wyrm is near.

And no matter how far we run, no matter how hard we fight—something will always chase us.

Something bigger than us.

“I know,” I tell him, gripping his hand tightly, my whole body trembling with emotion.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

But I know this is only the beginning.

The beginning of something worse.

Because whatever it is that hides in the darkness of that creature—in the shadow behind its crimson eyes—it won’t let us go.

And as the world around us starts to unravel, I realize something with a clarity that cuts like a blade:

Right now, everything depends on us.