The air hung thick with the metallic tang of frustration. Bathilda, her sleek, dark fur bristling, abandoned her futile attempts at speech. A guttural growl, a sound of pure, unadulterated annoyance, rumbled in her throat. The cavernous pit, a gaping maw in the earth, beckoned, and she, with a flick of her powerful wings, surrendered to gravity.

  She plummeted, a dark arrow aimed at the base of the chasm, the only sanctuary she knew. Her descent was a controlled dance, honed by countless repetitions. She nded with a soft thud, her cws finding purchase on the rough, uneven floor.

  Her gaze, sharp and anxious, followed the chaotic trajectory of Hiro. He, unlike her, cked the practiced grace of a seasoned flyer. His descent was a series of panicked fps and desperate, ineffective maneuvers. He tumbled, a small, dark shape against the stark, grey rock, before crashing into the pit's floor with a sickening thud.

  A cruel, involuntary chuckle escaped Bathilda. "Haha," she echoed into the vast space, the sound bouncing off the damp, cold walls. You should have practiced before jumping down here, Hiro. The sight of his clumsy fall, a stark contrast to her own practiced descent, momentarily alleviated her sour mood.

  But the silence that followed, the ck of Hiro’s usual sarcastic retort, pricked at her concern. She glided down, her wings catching the faint, stale air currents, and nded beside his unmoving form. Hey, she asked, her tone ced with worry, Are you okay?

  A grunt, followed by a low, pained groan, was his only reply. "...I'm fine," he grumbled, cradling his wing close to his body.

  You don't look fine, she insisted, her eyes scanning his form for injuries. Are you sure you're not hurt? She leaned closer, her keen senses searching for the telltale signs of broken bones or torn muscles.

  "What's that?" Hiro interrupted, his voice strained. He was staring past her, his gaze fixed on the twin tunnels that yawned open at the base of the pit.

  Don't try and change the subject, Hiro... Bathilda began, her frustration returning. But before she could press her point, two figures, lean and grotesque, erupted from the tunnel Hiro was fixated on. Barts. They moved with a terrifying, almost supernatural speed, their red eyes gleaming in the dim light.

  "Barts!" Hiro’s voice was sharp, a warning cry.

  Bathilda, instinctively reacting, unched herself into the air. With a swift, precise movement, she unleashed a (Wing Ssh+), a razor-sharp wave of compressed air, that bisected the lead Bart, its grotesque head separating from its body with a wet, sickening sound.

  The remaining Bart, witnessing the brutal demise of its kin, unleashed a piercing shriek, a sound that resonated with primal fury. It was a call to arms, a signal that reverberated through the byrinthine tunnels, alerting the rest of the brood to the intruders' presence.

  From the depths of the darkness, a consteltion of red eyes flickered to life. Echoes of answering cries, guttural and menacing, filled the air. The Barts, roused from their slumber, surged forth, driven by a ravenous hunger and a burning desire for revenge.

  Bathilda, her senses amplified by (Enhanced Echolocation), perceived the approaching horde in vivid detail. She could hear the skittering of their cws on the rock, the rasping of their breaths, the low, guttural growls that rumbled in their throats. They remembered her, the predator who had sughtered their kin. The shriek of the surviving Bart had carried a message of vengeance, a call for retribution.

  They swarmed, a tide of grotesque bodies, their eagerness for the kill so intense that they snapped and snarled at each other, their red eyes bzing with bloodlust. The ground trembled beneath the weight of their numbers, the air thick with their fetid stench.

  Bathilda, her heart pounding, decapitated the still-wailing Brat, silencing its arm. But the silence was fleeting, repced by the deafening roar of the approaching horde.

  Fly now, Hiro! she screamed, her voice barely audible above the cacophony. From her vantage point in the air, she could see the sheer, overwhelming number of the Barts. They were a living, writhing mass, a sea of red eyes and snapping jaws.

  "I'm trying! It's not easy," Hiro’s voice was ced with panic. "I lied. My wing hurts like hell and it's hard to even move it. Just go without me. I should return to you if this body disappears, or... Dies, right?"

  I don't know! How the hell would I know that? I didn't even know you would be able to hijack my clone in the first pce! Nevermind that. If you can't fly, at least use your good wing to try and climb out or something. Go, I'll try and buy you some time!

  Bathilda, her mind racing, descended, nding in front of the tunnel from which the Barts were pouring. She positioned herself as a barrier, a lone sentinel against the encroaching horde. She unleashed a barrage of (Wing Ssh+) attacks, each strike a deadly, invisible bde that sliced through the throng of monsters.

  Seconds stretched into an eternity as Bathilda fought, her movements a blur of deadly precision. The air filled with the stench of blood and the sickening sounds of rending flesh. Her mana reserves dwindled, her wings ached, but the tide of Barts showed no sign of abating.

  She gnced back at Hiro, her heart sinking. He had barely made any progress, his injured wing hindering his ascent.

  With a desperate surge of adrenaline, Bathilda took to the air, snatching Hiro in her cws. "Ow! What the hell, Bathilda?" he cried out, the pain of her grip sharp and sudden.

  Fly. Fly. Fly. Fly. Fly. She ignored his protests, her voice a frantic litany as she strained to lift them both.

  They ascended, the enraged Barts snapping at their heels, their cries a chorus of fury. Bathilda, her wings burning, reached the entrance of their base and dropped Hiro onto the ledge.

  She then tried to squeeze her much rger self through the entrance, struggling. Why. Can't. I. Get. In. she muttered, pushing with all of her might.

  Her wing, extended to help her push, smmed into Hiro, sending him tumbling back into the pit.

  "Bathilda!" he cried out, his voice fading as he plummeted.

  Bathilda, trapped in the narrow entrance, could only watch in horror as Hiro was snatched from the air by the Barts, his screams echoing through the chasm. She forced herself through the entrance and colpsed, her body trembling with grief.

  Shit, Hiro. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to knock you off. It was an accident. Hiro? Hiro!?

  Silence.

  Did you really die with my clone? Fuck! I don't want to be alone here. I'm sick of this shitty cave and these shitty rats. It was a slight novelty before, but... I don't want to be here now... Not now that... T-That Hiro has...

  Her voice broke, tears streaming down her face. "Heee... Roooo...." she sobbed.

  "Argh! No. Stop! Get the fuck off me."

  Hiro’s voice, raspy and weak, echoed in her mind.

  Hiro! You're alive! she cried, her heart leaping with joy.