The other creatures in the Abyss

Arienne stumbled forward, each step a battle against the exhaustion threatening to drag her back down. Her limbs felt heavier with every second, her vision hazy at the edges.

The man walked ahead, his pace unhurried, though she knew he was aware of her struggle.

She grit her teeth, refusing to ask for help. 

"Move faster."

He didn't look back as he spoke, his voice carrying effortlessly through the abyssal dark.

Arienne gritted her teeth, each step a battle against the trembling in her legs. Her muscles burned, exhaustion clawing at her bones, but she forced herself forward.

"In case you haven't noticed," she bit out, breath ragged, "I'm barely standing."

"Then fall somewhere quieter," he said without missing a beat.

Her glare could've burned a hole through his back, as she whispered, "Bastard."

He continued walking, and she dragged her body. 

Then—he stopped.

He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something beyond her senses. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel and walked back toward her.

Before she could protest, he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing more than a discarded cloak.

Arienne shrieked, startled.

The impact of his shoulder against her ribs sent a sharp jolt of pain through her.

"Ugh—" She groaned, trying to shift. "That hurts... You could have at least warned me—"

She never got to finish.

The growls came again, closer this time—deep, guttural, vibrating through the air like a death knell.

Arienne's head snapped up, her breath catching as she caught sight of them.

The creatures were already lunging.

Their twisted forms surged forward, claws glinting in the dim light.

And then—he moved.

Not walked. Not ran.

One moment, the creatures were snapping at their heels, their twisted bodies lunging through the ruins.

The next, the world fractured.

Darkness shattered around them in jagged bursts as the man blinked through space, shifting from one point to another in sharp, precise bursts.

Each jump sent a jolt through Arienne's already aching body, her vision blurring with each disorienting shift.

It wasn't far—just a few distances at a time—but it was enough. Enough to keep ahead of the creatures, enough to slip through the cracks of the Abyss itself.

She tried to track their movements, tried to make sense of how he was navigating this cursed place, but the sheer speed of it.

It made her stomach churn.

The ruined battlefield blurred past her, shadows warping and twisting in their wake.

Clawed hands swiped at nothingness, guttural howls echoed in frustration, until, finally, the creatures were gone.

He stopped.

The sudden stillness was almost worse than the movement.

Arienne barely had time to register their new surroundings before the nausea crashed over her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard against the lurch in her gut.

"You're making me sick," she gritted out.

"Better sick than dead," The man replied, not even sparing her a glance as he adjusted his grip, like she was nothing more than an unruly package.

Then, just as abruptly as he had lifted her—he dropped her.

Not roughly, but without care, as if she were a burden he no longer needed to carry.

Arienne barely managed to keep herself upright, her legs still weak, her breaths uneven.

Her fists clenched as she shot him a glare.

"You—" she started.

Arienne barely had time to inhale before a hand clamped over her mouth.

The man's grip was firm but not painful, his palm cool against her lips.

His eyes, sharp and alert, flickered around them, scanning the dark ruins with a wariness that sent a shiver down her spine.

Then, without a word, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her with him, pressing her back against the crumbling stone of a half-destroyed wall.

The cold seeped through her torn clothes, but she barely noticed—her pulse roared in her ears as she strained to see what had made him stop.

And then, she saw them.

Three figures moved through the abyssal dark, their shapes barely human.

Their bodies twisted unnaturally, like something had tried to mold them into a human form but failed.

Patches of skin peeled away to reveal something darker beneath—shadows that slithered like they had a mind of their own.

Their limbs elongated and shrank at random, fingers tapering into jagged, claw-like protrusions.

Their faces—or what remained of them—were hollowed things, stretched and warped, mouths split too wide as if screaming in silence.

Arienne's breath hitched, her stomach lurching.

They weren't just lost souls.

They were what the Abyss had made of them.

The man beside her tensed as one of the creatures turned its head too sharply, as if sensing something unseen. For a moment, Arienne swore the empty sockets where eyes should have been locked onto them.

And then—

Strong arms wrapped around her again.

Arienne barely had time to react before she was hefted onto his shoulder like a sack of grain.

She opened her mouth to protest—only for the world to shatter around her again.

The suffocating darkness twisted, space breaking apart in jagged bursts as he moved.

Once.

Twice.

Each jump sent a nauseating jolt through her body, the sheer force of it rattling her bones.

She clenched her teeth, gripping onto the fabric of his coat as her senses scrambled to catch up.

When he finally stopped, the world settled with an eerie stillness.

He dropped her—again.

Arienne barely caught herself, staggering as her legs threatened to give out beneath her.

She braced her hands against her knees, panting.

"Would it kill you," she gritted out, "to set me down gently for once?"

The man didn't respond. He stood, his gaze sweeping their surroundings, shoulders still tense.

It was only then that Arienne took in where they had landed.

The ruins stretched around them, it was nothing new. Broken stone pillars loomed like skeletal remains, half-swallowed by the Abyss's endless dark. 

Arienne swallowed hard, still tasting the bile at the back of her throat.

She forced herself upright.

"What—" she swallowed hard, trying to steady herself—"what were those?"

"You don't want to know."

"I asked, didn't I?"

He glanced at her then—silent for a beat too long.

Finally, he said, voice low, "What's left of people who stayed here too long."