The coast

The tunnel was a grueling ordeal for Erebus. Each step felt like a battle against his own failing body, a torment made heavier by the woman cradled in his arms and the toddler clinging desperately to his side. Darkness stretched endlessly before him, a black void pressing down on his spirit like an unyielding weight.

"How many days has it been?" The thought swirled endlessly in his mind, but no answer came. Time had dissolved in this suffocating place, leaving him adrift in an abyss of uncertainty. It was cold and damp in the long dark passage. He still held the torch that pooled light over gloomy roughly carved arches of the tunnel.

Luciana's unconscious form felt even lighter now, her shallow breathing the only sign she still clung to life. She was slipping further away with every moment, and Erebus knew it. His wounds throbbed fiercely, hot and angry beneath hastily wrapped bandages. Each step threatened to reopen them, but he didn't dare stop. Not yet. Nemesis was counting on him, his frightened eyes and trembling hands a constant reminder of the fragile lives that depended on Erebus's strength.

The words of the guild master were the only thing that kept him moving, a fragile thread of hope to which he clung desperately.

"The southern coastal town is under imperial authority," the guild master had said, his tone deliberate. "Most ships frequent the harbor there. High lords send their women to recuperate in that town, and I know a merchant—a trusted acquaintance—who owns ships and commands respect. He owes me a favor. I can't promise what awaits you, lad, but it's your best chance."

The man's voice had softened then, tinged with regret. "That's all I can do for you. The rest is up to you."

"You've done more than enough," Erebus had murmured, though the weight of the journey ahead had already swallowed his gratitude.

A small tug at his cloak yanked him from his thoughts. He stopped and turned, his gaze falling to Nemesis. The boy's disheveled frame swayed unsteadily, his small legs trembling under the strain of trying to keep pace with Erebus's long, hasty strides.

"What's wrong?" Erebus asked, his voice laced with exhaustion but softened by concern.

Nemesis didn't answer, but the boy's tear-streaked face spoke for him. Erebus sighed deeply, his heart twisting with guilt. He crouched down, easing Luciana onto the ground with care before pulling Nemesis close.

"We'll rest here," he said quietly, his voice more to comfort the child than himself.

The salty tang in the air was stronger now, an unmistakable sign they were nearing the coast. The realization brought him a faint sense of reassurance, but it wasn't enough to quiet the storm raging within him. He gave Nemesis a small loaf of bread from the urgent supplies that the owner gave him for his journey ahead.

He noticed that they were soon running out of food and water. He was careful to not let the medicine pouch get wet by the dampness of the tunnel.

His gaze shifted to Luciana. Her pale face was hauntingly still, her once vibrant presence reduced to something fragile and fleeting. She had been weak when he first found her, but now she seemed to be fading entirely. Every time he looked at her, the weight of his guilt grew heavier, sharp and relentless as a blade.

"You led her to this," the voice in his mind hissed, cruel and unyielding. "You took her for your own gain. Her suffering is your punishment. This is the fate of an outcast like you."

The words were a poison he couldn't escape. They stung because they were true. His actions had dragged her into this nightmare, and now he was watching her pay the price. And yet, that same guilt had awakened something within him. He saw her now as more than the woman he had taken. She had become a light in his otherwise endless darkness, something irreplaceable in a life that had always been devoid of meaning.

Nemesis climbed into his lap, trembling as he pressed his small body against Erebus. His voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence.

"Dada… why won't Mama come back to us? Mama keeps her eyes close. Why won't she wake up?"

Erebus's chest tightened painfully. He could hear the child's confusion and fear, the helplessness that no child should ever feel. Nemesis clung to Luciana's arm, burying his face against her as though his touch might bring her back to them.

Luciana had once told Erebus about Nemesis's habit of hiding his face when overwhelmed. She'd always found it endearing, a quirk that never failed to make her smile. Erebus remembered those moments vividly, how she would stroke Nemesis's hair with infinite tenderness, showering the boy with a love so boundless it stirred something strange in him. He'd even felt jealousy—a dark, selfish envy of a child who had stolen all her attention and affection.

"She'll be with us soon," Erebus murmured, though his voice faltered.

He ran his fingers through Nemesis's hair in the way Luciana always did, hoping the gesture would comfort the boy—and convince himself of the lie.

Luciana's luminous presence was dimming, her warmth fading. Erebus pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch, her body unnervingly still. He pressed her more closely to himself to keep the warmth of her body.

The memory of her discomfort with his touch surfaced unbidden. She had never fully accepted his closeness, and yet in the bed she had never pulled away either. At the time, it had filled him with a dark pride, the twisted satisfaction of claiming something that had resisted him.

Now, that same memory clawed at him like a double-edged blade. Had he ever considered her feelings? Had he thought about what she wanted—if she'd wanted this life, or to bear his child?

He was now on verge of losing either of them or both- her or the unborn child that was barely surviving inside of her.

The questions were daggers, joined by a surge of fear that tightened his chest.

What if she forgot everything when she woke? What if she opened her eyes and looked at him with cold indifference—or worse, hatred? What if she left him?

The thought was unbearable. His heart throbbed painfully at the mere idea.

He closed his eyes, holding both Nemesis and Luciana tightly as the storm inside him raged, its violent winds threatening to tear him apart.

After a while, Erebus forced himself to his feet. Lifting Luciana into his arms and steadying Nemesis by his side, he pressed on, deeper into the tunnel.

The ground beneath him grew damper. Water seeped through the earth, pooling underfoot with faint splashes. Droplets fell steadily from above, trickling down to meet him as the air grew cooler and heavier with moisture.

He pressed forward cautiously, the ground slick beneath his boots. Then, at last, the tunnel widened, and the oppressive darkness began to thin.

A faint light flickered in the distance. His heart surged with relief.

The tunnel grew steeper as it opened into a large, roughly carved cave. Wooden crates, barrels, and sacks were scattered around, abandoned long ago. In the distance, the cave mouth revealed the vast, glittering expanse of the ocean.

The southern breeze swept in, its cool, salty touch brushing against Erebus's face like an unseen hand. His hair, now long enough to fall to his back, stirred in the wind.

For a moment, he stood still, captivated by the sight. The waves rolled and crashed rhythmically, their soothing sound blending with the cries of seagulls that circled high above. Tiny ships dotted the distant horizon, bobbing like toy models on the endless blue sea.

It was the first time in what felt like an eternity that Erebus allowed himself a sliver of hope.