Dead End

Warren stood there for a long time.

His palm still rested where the cold, carved stone had once been. But the warmth that had surged into him earlier, the strange pulsing energy that had crawled through his body like fire under his skin, was gone now.

So was the stone.

The place he had used to pull himself upright, the object that had dulled his pain and anchored his mind, had vanished without a trace.

In its place stood a bare altar. The pedestal remained, carved and ancient, but the centerpiece was missing. It looked almost robbed, like a shrine long abandoned. Whatever had been placed there before, whatever power had lived within it, was gone now.

Hollow.

The pain in his chest had not returned. That at least was a blessing. But neither had understanding.

Did it say Envy?

The word echoed in his skull like a faint bell, distorted and unsure. Just the memory of it made something stir deep inside him. Like trying to remember a song that had been long forgotten. It made his stomach turn and his heart tighten.

He had heard a voice.

Not his own. Not imagined. It had spoken directly into his very being.

But now the silence inside the cave felt absolute.

There was no glow. No explanation. No surge of strength.

Only his breath and the sound of wind brushing the entrance of the cave.

A part of him wanted to call it madness. Wanted to tell himself it was a hallucination, a cruel illusion born from fear, hunger, and the brink of death.

But something deeper in him refused.

He hadn't imagined it.

He didn't know what had happened in this desolate cave. But whatever it was, it was real.

Warren stepped away from the altar, slow and stiff. One hand pressed gently against his ribs. His legs trembled under him, barely strong enough to hold his weight. Every movement sent sharp little flares of pain through his battered body. His skin had dried in thin layers of blood and dirt. His side throbbed like something inside him had cracked.

Only now did he notice how shallow the cave really was.

Earlier, he had thought it might go deeper, thought there could be a tunnel hidden in the shadows. But that was just hope, hope clouded by exhaustion and the desperate need for escape.

This was not a tunnel.

This was not a path.

It was a dead end.

No hidden passage.

No secret exit.

Just jagged stone on all sides. A cold floor. And an empty altar.

He had crawled here thinking it might offer salvation.

Now it felt like a grave.

So that's it, then.

That beast refused to finish me off the moment I entered the cave. So maybe I can just wait until it leaves. Yes, just waiting here for a few hours could—

His thoughts cut off as his stomach twisted violently.

A deep, aching growl echoed from his core. Sharp and nauseating.

His body shook slightly. Fingers cold. Joints heavy.

This wasn't just the hunger he knew from the outskirts. It was different. Worse.

His new body felt stronger. But it also begged for more.

And right now, it was demanding food.

No. No waiting. That won't do me any good.

I need to eat.

And not just that.

The wolf is still out there. I'll have to face it eventually. Better to do it now. On my terms. If I move first, maybe I can control how this ends.,

He took a deep breath.

The cold air scratched his lungs.

Then he stepped forward, slow and steady, towards the mouth of the cave.

***

The light outside had changed.

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting golden beams through the trees. Everything was bathed in a strange, dreamlike hue. Blood on the grass gleamed in crimson streaks beneath the golden rays.

The air smelled of pine and cold earth.

It should have felt clean.

It should have felt safe.

But Warren barely noticed.

His eyes locked on the shape that still lingered near the tree line.

The wolf.

It was still there.

Still massive and imposing.

The beast seemed different now. Its presence no longer seemed so unreal. It breathed harder. Its shoulders dipped lower. One of its hind legs dragged noticeably across the earth.

It wound even more grave after its sudden attack on Warren.

That much was clear.

The beast turned its head slightly. Its gaze met Warren's across the distance.

Neither of them moved.

There was no snarl.

No growl.

Just silence.

Then the creature turned. Slowly. Without fear. Without urgency.

It disappeared into the woods beyond, limping into the trees without looking back again.

And then it was gone.

The clearing felt strange without it.

Empty.

Unsettled.

"...That's it?"

Warren stood still, watching the space where it had been.

A few long breaths passed before he finally stepped forward.

Toward the bodies.

They hadn't moved since the first time he saw them.

Five of them. Torn, tossed aside like scraps. Bones bent in impossible ways. Chests caved in. Limbs ripped. It was hard to tell they had once been human.

He crouched beside the nearest one.

The stench hit him full in the face.

He recoiled slightly, eyes watering. His stomach lurched again, both from hunger and nausea.

Rot. Iron. Decay.

He forced himself not to gag.

The first body had nothing but scraps. Torn cloth. A ripped belt. Blood-stained leather.

The second had a pouch of round metal coins. Dull and stamped with symbols he didn't recognize.

Could be currency.

Could be worthless.

He kept it anyway.

The third had a small canteen hidenn away towards what he assumed was once the bodies feet.

He unscrewed the cap and sniffed.

Water.

Warm and slightly metallic, but clean.

He drank. Slowly, making sure to save the majority of it . 

It hit his throat like medicine, sweet and bitter at once.

He took only a few sips, but it felt like breathing for the first time.

The fourth body had a pack tied to its back. Inside was a bundle of dried meat. Still intact. It smelled harsh, but it didn't seem spoiled.

He took a bite.

Chewed slowly.

Salt burned the cuts on his lips.

His jaw ached.

But he swallowed.

The fifth corpse held something arguably more important than food , information.

A folded scrap of parchment, tucked under broken armor. He slid it out carefully, brushing off blood with shaking fingers.

A map?

Worn. Creased. Smudged.

But still legible.

Analyzing the map 4 distinct symbols could be made out 

North, there were three markings labeled with question marks.

To the east, a skull drawn in red ink.

To the west, a symbol shaped like a house.

And to the south, a single question mark, standing alone.

He stared at it for a long time.

No answers came from looking at the sheet but it was nice to feel like he gained something after the brutal encounter he had to go though to receive the scrap of parchment.

Could be ruins. Could be monster nests. Could be towns. Could be death.

that last thought made him think of the wolf. How powerful the beast was even in its wounded state. What would happen to it in the forest with its injury. Would it come back?

He folded the map and slid it into the satchel.

Could be something else entirely.

He folded the map and tucked it into the satchel placing the satchels strap around his arm he stood.

Then, without a word, he walked back to the cave.

Back inside the cave, the air felt colder.

But also familiar.

He leaned against the rough wall and chewed another strip of dried meat. It went down easier this time.

The water helped.

His head still throbbed. His body still ached.

But something had shifted.

He didn't feel like prey anymore.

Didn't feel hunted.

He barely felt alive.

But feeling alive—however small—was enough.

He curled up against the stone, pulled the satchel tight to his chest, and let sleep take him.

Sleep came quickly.

Heavy and quiet. Like an old friend come to claim what it was owed.

His body, finally at its limit, gave in without resistance.

For the first time in memory, he let go.

And slipped into darkness.

***

But it did not last.

A sound.

Soft. Sudden.

A rustle came from beyond the trees.

Then the distinct, unmistakable snap of a twig.

His eyes snapped open.

He breathing more shallow.

'Is the wolf back? Come to finish what it started?'

The thought was irrational, but even the possibility of facing that creature again made his fingers tremble.

He didn't move.

Only listened.

Leaves brushing against bark.

A shape moving through the underbrush.

Footsteps. Light. Controlled.

Not the wolf.

Not the wind.

The sounds were deliberate. Controlled. Whatever it was, it moved with purpose.

The forest outside the cave had gone still. No birds. No insects. Just the creeping sound of something approaching through the trees.

Shadows flickered along the edges of the clearing.

Warren narrowed his eyes, spine stiff against the stone.

He wasn't alone anymore.