Silence pooled in the cavern, thick and heavy as the darkness. It was broken only by the ragged symphony of their breathing Liam’s shallow and pained, Ryder’s wet and labored, Ethan’s sharp hisses as Tess finished binding his arm, Fred’s quiet, shocked pants. The air, cold and tasting of wet stone and ancient dust, felt like a held breath.Gareth’s words hung among them, more real than the shadows. A temple.Tess looked at the strips of Liam’s shirt in her hands, now stained with Ethan’s blood. A temple. Not a refuge, but a destination. The thought was too large, too terrifying to hold. She focused on the smaller, immediate terror: the man dying beside her.Ryder’s skin was on fire. Even in the gloom, she could see the fever burning him up from within. The long gashes from the Wendigo’s claws were an angry, weeping red, the edges already tinged with a sickly greenish-black. Poison. Gareth had gathered the dry, shelf-like fungus and, with Fred’s human ingenuity using Liam’s metal belt
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