Psai’s impromptu distraction freezes the enemy horde just long enough for them to get back to the cavern’s entrance. It is only a brief pause, but enough to buy critical time. Panting from the effort, they press forward, hearts pounding, and reach the threshold. The cavern’s cold breath washes over them, a reminder of how little time remains.

  “Rennick is still down there,” Tilly warns, her voice low but edged with worry.

  “I know,” Elara replies grimly. “We have to hold out as long as possible. Every second counts.” Her eyes scan the advancing swarm, a mixture of determination and fatigue.

  At the cavern entrance, Elara turns sharply and calls upon an ability Wyn has never seen before. A broad, semitransparent barrier erupts outward from her shield, rapidly expanding to seal the entire width of the opening. The wall pulses faintly, a fragile barrier standing between them and the relentless horde. The air seems to hum with tension as the barrier holds—just barely.

  “This won’t hold for long,” Elara warns, eyes sharp with resolve, “but it will buy us time. Do what you can.” Her tone brooks no argument.

  Wyn and Timnos exchange a determined glance and fall back into their rhythm. Mage bolts and blue flame bolts streak from their hands, striking their targets with precision. Bones crack and shatter, scattering fragments across the cavern floor as each strike fells another undead foe pressing against their defense. Wyn’s mind focuses tightly on the spellcasting, pushing aside the creeping cold biting at her skin.

  Tilly, though lacking any damaging powers, adds vital support. Clasping her hands in meditation, she murmurs a string of arcane words. The strain on their essentia pools lessens, and their senses sharpen. Sweat beads on Tilly’s brow; she cannot maintain this for long. But holding out just long enough is all they need to survive. Wyn notes the strain showing in Tilly’s posture and feels a rush of gratitude. They all bear burdens today.

  “Whatever Rennick’s planning better be worth it,” Timnos mutters, voice low and tense, his breath shallow and quick.

  Wyn nods, surprisingly agreeing. “At this rate, making it out alive feels uncertain.” The thought tightens her chest, but she pushes it down. Hope has to hold.

  “Don’t say that,” Elara snaps. “Rennick is talented. He will make it through.” Her voice cuts through the tension like a blade, steady and commanding. Wyn can almost feel the weight of her confidence holding them all upright.

  Minutes drag on, the fight pressing in relentlessly. The air chills as Frostburn creeps into Wyn and Timnos’ lungs, stealing warmth and strength. Elara’s barrier flickers and wanes, its strength fading beneath the endless assault. Wyn’s vision narrows slightly as exhaustion claws at her, but she forces herself to stay alert.

  “Elara,” Timnos warns sharply, voice tight with urgency.

  “I know,” she replies, steady despite the strain. “Hold on a moment longer.” Her words are a promise, a lifeline.

  Wyn pulls her essentia generator for the third time, drawing in the faintest essence to replenish her reserves. Fire essentia is gone. Rennick must return soon—or everything they’ve fought for will be lost. She clenches her fists, willing the energy to surge through her veins.

  Then Rennick appears. Less than twenty yards away, he slices through the advancing undead with a long, curved dagger unlike any Wyn has seen before. Each strike sends a wave of green energy tearing through dozens of skeletons at once. Wherever the wave passes, bones dissolve into foul smoke curling upward.

  The undead falter. Their relentless pressure eases as they shift to face Rennick’s presence. The sudden shift in the enemy’s focus sends a ripple of relief through the group.

  Elara’s voice cuts through the noise. “See? I told you he would come back.”

  Wyn’s relief is cautious, shadowed by lingering doubt. The fight is far from over. Her eyes track Rennick’s movements closely. He fights fiercely but visibly tires with each passing moment.

  Reinvigorated by Rennick’s arrival, the group presses forward with renewed determination. Tilly pours her energy into strengthening Rennick, weaving protective wards with a precision born of desperation. Wyn and Timnos launch bolt after bolt, ignoring the creeping cold of Frostburn. The undead press harder but begin to break beneath the combined assault.

  Still, Rennick slows. His stamina fades as he fights through the crushing mass nearly overwhelming him. Wyn feels a pang of guilt mixed with fear—what if they are too late?

  “Push forward!” Elara commands sharply.

  “What? Are you mad?” Timnos snaps, breath ragged and voice strained.

  Elara does not reply. She drops her shield and charges. Rennick is less than a dozen yards away. To save him, they must reach him quickly.

  Elara swings her greatsword, felling enemies blocking their way. Even Froggy, who until now has hidden behind Wyn, leaps into the fray, firing explosive bursts at the undead. Wyn allows herself a brief glance at the little creature—fierce despite its size—and draws strength from the sight.

  But the enemy’s numbers remain vast—a dark tide pressing from all sides. The group races against time, closing the gap to Rennick.

  Wyn’s mind races. Her essentia is dangerously low. Psai’s usual distractions are spent. Without enough reserves, another illusion would risk severe Frostburn. Desperation claws at her chest. She cannot fail.

  She searches desperately for a solution. The generator is dry, and absorbing ambient essentia is impossible without the right skill. Then a desperate, reckless idea comes to her—crazy, but possibly their only chance.

  “Tilly, get some heals ready,” Wyn commands, voice tight.

  “Ready,” Tilly replies without hesitation.

  Wyn grips her dagger and takes a steadying breath, bracing herself. This will hurt more than she imagined.

  A sharp cry escapes her as the blade sinks into her arm.

  “What are you doing?” Timnos shouts, disbelief clear in his voice.

  Wyn grits her teeth against the pain and channels her essentia manipulation toward the wound. Her theory proves sound. Life force is energy, and with precise control, it can convert into essentia. As her vitality drains, her essentia pool begins to refill slowly but surely.

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  A notification flickers before her eyes.

  Ability unlocked: Vital Transmutation – Uncommon

  Description: Sacrifice a portion of your life force to recover a small amount of essentia. The exchange is inherently inefficient, with most life force lost during conversion. This ability has diminishing returns and can cause dangerous side effects if used carelessly.

  Fueled by this new source, Wyn summons an illusion. Though her mind swims and vision dims from blood loss, she forces focus to shape the image. She places it across the cavern—far from the group.

  As Tilly suggested earlier, the illusion forms: a gathering of holy figures—paladins, healers, and robed priests—chanting with fierce conviction toward the undead.

  The illusion works. The undead turn from Rennick, drawn to the apparition and giving Elara the time she needs to reach him and lift the faltering dwarf.

  “Let’s go!” Elara shouts.

  Elara carries a semi-conscious Rennick over her shoulder and charges through the undead, carving a path through their shambling ranks. The undead gawk at the illusion, barely noticing as they are flung to the side by Elara.

  But the illusion can’t last for ever. Just as Elara rejoins the group, Rennick in hand, the illusion begins to fail. The religious figures, resplendent and grand in holy light, waver and flicker; their false nature becoming clear. The undead take notice. Their trance on the illusion broken, their cold, eyeless sockets return their hollow gaze directly to their true target: the living.

  Wyn releases the failing illusion and, alongside the rest of the group, breaks into a full run. Their boots strike the hard stone with pounding urgency as they reenter the underground goblin city. Behind them, bones rattle forward, their shambling forms surprisingly quick in their undeath. A desperate chase between the dead and the living has begun.

  Elara takes point, leading their desperate charge through the labyrinth of dim tunnels. She navigates the twisting underground streets. Despite not being familiar with the place, she gives off an aura of confidence, inspiring her fellow adventurers to run faster despite their exhaustion from the lengthy fighting. But her heavy breathing betrays the true strain she’s under, with the heavy weight of both her armor and Rennick slowing her down.

  The turn left down another dark corridor, only to be met with another growing horde of undead. Every inch of this place is litered with shambling corpses, threatening to capture the fleeing adventurers.

  “Turn back!” Elara orders.

  Timnos, impatient and cocky, breaks formation. “Watch this,” he snaps over his shoulder, voice thick with arrogance. Without waiting for instruction, he darts toward a narrow corridor crowded with goblin skeletons. Blue flame flashes, cutting through the bones with ease and knocking the skeletons back. Only for them to recover and resume the charge.

  “Timnos, no,” Wyn says, yanking him towards the rest of their group.

  The skeletons move slow, but their numbers multiply steadily. One lunges suddenly, catching Timnos off guard. A jagged claw rakes across his forearm, tearing through fabric and skin. Blood wells, stark against his pale arm.

  Timnos snarls, wrenching free, but the wound burns deep. “They’re faster than they look,” he snaps, wiping the blood away with a sneer. “I’m fine.”

  “This way!” Elara calls out, taking a right down yet another corridor. Each corridor looks identical, and Wyn gives a silent prayer that Elara knows where she’s going.

  Yet again, more and more undead attack. Wyn, out of essentia and out of options charges forward. Her arm still hurts from generating the Essentia needed for the last illusion, and she has no interest in using that ability again unless she absolutely has to. But thankfully for Wyn, she’s not alone in this fight.

  From Wyn’s shoulder, Froggy launches himself into the fight. The boomfrog’s eyes glow bright, muscles coiling. He inhales sharply, swelling his belly with concentrated magical energy.

  Then Froggy releases. A sharp pulse of explosive energy bursts from his throat, sending shards of bone and dust flying through the tunnel. The skeletons stagger, many thrown against walls or crushed beneath falling rubble. The sudden blast breaks their advance.

  Wyn allows herself a brief, rare smile. Froggy’s skill has grown far beyond cute companion.

  Timnos glares at the frog, grudging respect for the adorable frog. “Not bad,” he mutters.

  Another corner, and Wyn catches a glimpse of something familiar. A small toy resting on a windowsill. She saw it on the way in, shortly after they entered this labyrinth grid of tunnels.

  “Psai. Light,” Wyn commands.

  “Right away,” Psai replies, voice tight and shaky.

  A pale glow radiates from Psai’s core, muted compared to his usual brightness. It cuts through the shadows, revealing a narrow crack in the stone wall ahead. Wyn points. “There. That’s where we came in.”

  Elara nods sharply and barrels forward. Each step pounds against the slick stone. Her armor rattles with every move. Rennick’s weight pulls heavy on her shoulder, but she does not falter. She leads, relentless.

  Tilly, flushed with adrenaline and rare defiance, took a step ahead of the group as if daring the undead to catch her. “Keep up slow pokes!” She says with a pained grin.

  Timnos grumbles but rushes forward to keep up. The wound on his forearm stings fiercely, but he shoves the pain aside. Better to live with pain, than join the undead.

  Wyn and Froggy are the last through the crevice, the undead nearly upon them. But Froggy won’t let Wyn come into harms way. Froggy crouches low, eyes gleaming. Energy roils through him, coiling in his throat. Then, without hesitation, he erupts in a controlled explosion that sends the nearest cluster of skeletons tumbling like rag dolls.

  The blast gives the group some lead time, but Froggy’s effort left him panting and wobbling. Wyn knelt briefly to steady the small creature before pressing on. Froggy’s shoulders rose and fell with quick breaths, but his gaze stayed sharp.

  The group is met with a familiar sight. The fallen goblins and boomfrogs from their earlier fight lie scattered and broken, silent witnesses to the chaos behind them. While only hours ago, it feels like an age since that first cavernous encounter. But there’s no time to reminsce. The undead will soon recover and be on their tail in a heartbeat.

  Without a backward glance, the group crosses the open space and plunges into the slender tunnels winding upward and out of the cavern’s grasp.

  The confined space forces them into a cautious rhythm, half run, and half stumble, moving in single file. The damp stone floor gleams slick beneath their boots, threatening to betray them. One wrong step, and they could tumble right into the maw of the awaiting undead Still, they press on, driven by sheer will. Behind them, the clatter of bones fades, the suffocating weight of dark magic loosening its grip. For a brief moment, the group allows themselves a moment of relief.

  Then the ceiling groans.

  Thin cracks spiderweb across the stone above. Dust falls in thin clouds.

  “Shit.” Wyn complains.

  With a sudden crash, chunks of rock break free. Skeletal hands burst down first, grasping blindly. More follow, twisted bodies spilling into the narrow tunnel like a flood.

  “RUN!” Elara roars, drawing her blade. She swings wildly, desperate to hold the line and buy time for the others to escape. One undead grabs her wrist, wrenching it painfully. She snarls, wrenching free with a snap that sends fresh pain through his arm.

  Rennick, still recovering atop Elara’s shoulder begins muttering under his breath. Using the last of his own strength, he conjures a dozen floating knives into the air. Each one carves into the undead, melting their bones and leaving a path for the group to follow out.

  Elara grits her teeth, driving ahead. “Thank you.”

  With one final charge, they finally reach sunlight.

  They spill out of the cave; their lungs heaving and their muscles loosing their strength. Behind them, the undead falter. One bolder undead charges forward, but the direct sunlight quickly burns away the soul trapped inside, leaving the bones to crumble to the ground having lost their purpose.

  Elara lowers Rennick to the ground. “Rest,” she orders, voice low but firm.

  Wyn sinks beside her, eyes scanning the cavern’s mouth. They are alive. Bruised and battered, but free. Timnos wipes sweat and blood from his arm, smirking through the pain. Froggy curls against Wyn’s boot, exhausted but victorious. Tilly, the only member of their party not totally out of resources gets right to healing the party, helping them recover their strength.

  For a moment, the world stands still around them. Their chests heave, lungs burning with the effort of survival. Dirt and dust settle on trembling hands and cracked lips as their eyes dart, scanning for danger.

  Then, as the first real breath of safety sinks in, the group collapses. Bodies hit the hard stone with soft thuds, limbs splaying out.

  “Thank god,” Wyn exhales, voice rough and broken. Her eyes close, relief washing over her like cold water.

  Timnos lets out a harsh laugh, wiping sweat from his brow. “Still alive. Barely,” he mutters.

  Froggy snuggles closer to Wyn’s foot, eyelids heavy but alert.

  No words are needed. The raw, exhausted silence speaks everything. They made it.