Encounter

Raven's body was limp, her mind swirling in and out of consciousness. She laid motionless on the cold, jagged ground, her face pressed against the rough, uneven stone of the dungeon floor. The world around her was a blur—dim, distant, and shrouded in the faint light of the mana crystals that pulsated around her. The air was thick with the suffocating weight of the dungeon, the oppressive mana pressure still lingering in the aftermath of the collapse.

She tried to move, to lift her hand, but her limbs refused to respond. Every inch of her body screamed in agony, her muscles too exhausted to obey. It felt like her entire body was crushed under the weight of the dungeon's collapse, as if every fiber of her being had been shattered and now lay in ruins. She could barely feel her fingers twitch, a faint movement, and even that was a struggle. The pain was unbearable, searing through her veins, making it almost impossible to focus.

Cough.

Raven's chest heaved with a painful, strangled breath as blood spilled from her mouth. It tasted metallic, hot, and thick, but she couldn't stop it. Her vision swam as her breathing became more erratic, each gasp for air feeling more labored than the last. She coughed again, the bitter taste of blood filling her throat as her body struggled to stay alive, to hold on to consciousness. She could feel her pulse, faint and weak, fluttering at the base of her neck like a candle flickering in the wind.

Her head felt heavy, like it was trapped underwater, the muffled sounds of the world around her distant and muffled. All she could hear was the deafening thrum of her heartbeat in her ears and the soft hum of the mana crystals, which seemed to echo louder with each passing second. The thought of moving, of trying to escape, felt like a distant dream—something far beyond her reach.

But then, in the haze of her fading consciousness, something stirred—a familiar presence.

The spell.

Arielle's magic had been there, hadn't it? Raven remembered the soft glow of wind magic, the delicate touch of healing that Arielle had placed on her before everything had descended into chaos. It was the only thing that had kept her from being torn apart by the fall, the only thing that had kept her alive when the ceiling collapsed and the world beneath her shattered.

The healing magic had kept the worst of the impact at bay, cushioning her fall, protecting her from the worst of the injuries. It hadn't been enough to prevent the damage, but it had been enough to keep her breathing, to give her a fighting chance. Without it, Raven knew she would have been lost, her broken body nothing but debris in the dark abyss.

I'm alive...

The thought was a fleeting one, a moment of clarity that barely lasted before it was consumed by the overwhelming haze of pain. Her body screamed in protest, as if it were no longer her own. But in the midst of the chaos, she could still feel the warmth of the magic, like a gentle pulse beneath her skin. The spell's lingering energy was still there, holding her together, keeping her from falling into the black void that threatened to claim her.

But how long could she stay like this? How much longer could she survive before the healing magic finally gave out, before her body succumbed to the injuries she had sustained? She had no idea, and in this moment, she couldn't think clearly enough to even try to understand. All she could do was focus on the sensation of the magic, the faint flicker of light that was slowly keeping her alive.

The world around her shifted again, and Raven felt the ground tremble beneath her. The dungeon's walls groaned, creaking and cracking as if the entire structure was still in the process of collapsing. She felt the weight of it all, pressing down on her, as if the dungeon itself were closing in. The air felt heavier with each passing moment, the mana suffocating and thick, making it even harder to breathe.

I have to move...

The thought stirred something deep within her, a flicker of defiance, but it felt weak, like an ember about to go out. Raven didn't know how much time had passed since she had fallen, but she knew one thing. If she didn't get up, if she didn't find a way to escape, then she wouldn't make it out of this dungeon alive.

With great effort, she shifted slightly, trying to move her arm, but her muscles protested, burning with pain. Every movement felt like a battle, each breath more difficult than the last. The weight of the mana was pressing down on her, and the spell that Arielle had placed on her was slowly fading, its healing properties unable to keep up with the damage done.

But then, she heard something.

A distant voice. Faint, but there.

"Raven."

Celia.

Raven's heart skipped a beat, and her eyes snapped open, the edges of her vision blurry. She blinked, trying to focus, trying to make sense of her surroundings. But the world spun around her, the darkened, crystalline chamber around her swirling in and out of focus.

"Raven, you have to stay with me!"

Her sister's voice. It was closer now, more urgent.

Celia.

Raven felt a surge of determination rush through her, overriding the overwhelming pain. She couldn't let Celia face this alone. She couldn't let her sister lose hope. Even if her body was failing her, she couldn't give up—not when Celia was still out there.

I can't die here... not like this. Not when she needs me.

With a fierce grunt, Raven gathered what little strength remained in her. She gripped the cold stone beneath her, her fingers slick with blood, and pushed against the ground. The effort was almost too much for her, and for a moment, she thought she might collapse again. But she fought it, gritting her teeth, ignoring the sharp, burning pain that coursed through her veins.

Her vision began to sharpen, her senses slowly returning. She could hear the faint sound of Celia's footsteps, the soft shuffle of movement getting closer. She could feel the mana in the air, heavy and oppressive, and yet, there was a flicker of something else—

Unfamiliar. 

The ground beneath her feet vibrated, not from the crumbling dungeon, but from something else entirely. Something alive.

Raven paused, her senses on high alert. The air grew heavier, and a strange, almost palpable energy filled the space around her, its presence like a dark, pulsing heartbeat. She looked up, and for the first time, she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the crumbling surroundings.

In the center of the chamber ahead, the faint glow of the mana crystals shimmered brightly, but there was a shadow growing larger within their midst. A dark silhouette—too large to be anything human—began to emerge. The very atmosphere seemed to warp around it, bending unnaturally as if the world itself was shifting to accommodate the figure's presence.

Raven's heart skipped a beat as she took a step back, her pulse pounding in her ears. Something—someone—was coming.

The figure fully emerged from the shadows, and Raven's breath caught in her throat. What stood before her was not Celia, but something far more terrifying judging from the mana the figure emitted. 

It was dark—unnaturally so—and oppressive, like the weight of the very air itself had thickened into something solid. Raven could feel it pressing in on her from all sides, suffocating, closing in with every breath she took. It wasn't just the absence of light that unnerved her; it was the sensation of something ancient, something cruel, lurking beneath the surface.

It was enough to make her pulse quicken, a sliver of true fear creeping into her chest. The fear wasn't just the threat of physical harm—it was the fear of being consumed by this darkness, of being swallowed whole by the figure's overwhelming power. It felt like the very air around them was thick with the promise of destruction, as if the world itself would crumble if Raven didn't tread carefully.

The atmosphere around the figure felt alive with malevolent intent, as if it had been steeped in centuries of bloodshed, death, and suffering.

Long silver hair cascaded down the figure's back, shimmering in the low light like moonlight on a still lake. Pink eyes glowed brightly, piercing through the darkness with a predatory gaze. She was clad in a dark, intricate bodysuit that seemed woven from shadows themselves, the fabric tightening and shifting with each of her movements. Midnight-blue tights encased her legs, extending into boots that seemed to blend seamlessly into her form. Her back was adorned with dark, ornate wings—powerful, imposing, and almost as if they could swallow the very light that touched them. Her pointed horns curved elegantly from her head, a crown of darkness that made her look all the more inhuman.

She stood at a towering height of 5'10", her presence overwhelming, filling the space with a palpable, terrifying power.

Raven's mind struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. This... this couldn't be real. Was she hallucinating from the injuries? Had the dungeon's collapsing magic broken her mind?

The figure smiled, a slow, almost mocking curve of her lips.