The cold night air clung to Karina's skin as she wiped the blade of her sword against the fallen goblin's ragged tunic. Blood—dark and slick—glistened in the faint moonlight before sinking into the cold dirt. The creature's lifeless eyes stared past her, empty and dull, another casualty of the relentless wilderness.
Exhaustion weighed on her like a second cloak. She had managed only an hour of restless sleep, her body coiled tight even while asleep, every rustle of grass or whisper of wind jerking her back to alertness.
Now, as she leaned against the weathered carriage wheel, her legs trembled beneath her. The horse beside her snorted softly in its sleep, its warm breath curling into the night. Without him, they were stranded. Without Figmond, she'd bleed out from the next unlucky strike. Everything here was fragile. Everything was necessary.
"Just a few moments. Just enough to catch my breath that's all" Karina told herself, lying, letting her sleep deprived body take over.
She let her sword sink into the damp soil beside her, its tip scraping the dirt as her eyelids grew heavy.
Then—a cry.
Not the guttural snarl of a goblin, nor the screech of some night-prowling beast. This was something else. A sound that slithered down her spine and coiled in her gut—a wailing, mournful shriek that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She reacted by picking her sword back up. The torch had long since sputtered out, leaving only the moon's pallid glow to cut through the clinging fog. Shadows stretched and twisted, playing tricks on her strained vision.
Karina's grip tightened around her sword as she rose to her feet, her muscles coiled like a spring. The cry came again—closer this time—a haunting, dissonant wail that sent another chill down her spine. It wasn't just one voice. It was two, intertwined, harmonizing in a way that made her stomach twist.
Then, she saw them.
Emerging from the fog like specters given form, their massive, sinuous bodies slithered through the air with unnatural grace. Their ghastly pale flesh shimmered under the moonlight, stretched taut over jagged bones, and their hollow eyes burned with a sickly violet glow. Ribbed wings, tattered yet powerful, spread wide as they circled above, their mournful cries splitting the night once more.
Karina's breath hitched. "These must be the ghasts," Her mind raced.
Figmond stirred behind her, his voice groggy. "Karina…?"
"Stay back!" she barked, raising her sword just as the first ghast dove.
It moved like liquid shadow, its talons raking toward her. She barely twisted aside in time, feeling the rush of air as the claws grazed her shoulder. Pain flared, but she gritted her teeth and swung. Steel met flesh with a sickening thunk, black blood splattering the grass. The ghast shrieked, recoiling—but the other was already upon her.
The second creature lunged, its maw gaping wide, rows of needle-like teeth gleaming. Karina dropped low, rolling beneath its strike before driving her blade upward. The tip scraped bone, and the ghast howled, its wing buffeting her hard enough to send her skidding back.
Figmond was on his feet now, his dagger in hand as he muttered a spell. A pulse of green light erupted washed over Karina. Warmth flooded her limbs, the pain in her shoulder dulling. She shot him a grateful nod before refocusing.
The ghasts regrouped, their eerie cries harmonizing once more as they circled above, preparing another strike.
Karina adjusted her stance. The world narrowed to the twin points of the ghasts, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her ears, a desperate rhythm for a body starved of rest.
A scream tore from her throat—not a battle cry, but a raw expulsion of frustration. "Ahhhh!!" She didn't charge; she erupted, a whirlwind of desperate fury. Sleep deprivation was a fog in her mind, a leaden weight in her limbs, and she would burn through it with sheer rage. Her first swing arced wide to the right, a deliberate miss. Then, in the breath between heartbeats, she pivoted. The feint became a fluid, desperate twirl, her blade reversing course to slash at the other ghast. Steel bit into shadow-stuff. It was a solid hit, but not a killing one. The creature recoiled, surprised, but did not fall.
Karina used the momentum, letting the twirl carry her into a follow-up swing at the first ghast. It was a simple, almost crude tactic—attack, pivot, attack the other—a predictable rhythm designed not to kill, but to herd. To keep both nightmares pinned on the back foot, to buy herself another second of life.
For a time, it worked. Here and there, a strike met only air. An advance was dodged. But the ghasts did not tire. They were patient, eternal things. Karina, however, was flesh and blood, and her reserves were a puddle in the sun. Her flurry, once a storm, slowed to a gale, then to a fitful gust. Sensing the shift, the ghasts changed. They stopped reacting and began to act, their attacks coming not in a flurry, but in a chilling, coordinated rhythm, one striking as the other retreated.
Dodge. Duck. Parry. Her body screamed in protest, a machine running on fumes. Her movements lost their grace, becoming jerky, desperate.
"She's burning out," Figmond whispered, his face a mask of worry. He shifted his weight, knuckles white on the grip of his dagger, poised to intervene, knowing he couldn't.
Karina stumbled back, her chest heaving, and stopped. She planted her feet, lowering her sword point, and simply… caught her breath. For a bizarre, suspended moment, the ghasts halted. They didn't press their advantage. Perhaps it was a predator's cruel curiosity, a cat toying with a mouse that had stopped running. Karina didn't care to decipher the reason; she was simply, profoundly grateful for the pause. She let her eyes close, not in meditation, but in a heavy, almost drugged-lidded surrender. Her body felt like it was turning to stone.
"I need to end this," she thought, the words thick and slow in her mind. "One good hit. Something more." The idea was a spark in the overwhelming darkness. "Wait… if I can land a single, decisive blow on one, then the other… Her eyes snapped open."
The weariness was still there, a crushing weight, but it was now a weight she could use, a foundation to push off from. She settled into a guard, every line of her body broadcasting a final, desperate intention.
As if on cue, the two ghasts launched themselves forward, two streaks of nightmare given form.
Karina met them. She didn't wait. She hurled herself forward to meet them halfway, a collision of dwindling flesh and immortal shadow. "Come, I dare you!" Her scream was a challenge, a promise, and a prayer, all wrapped into one final, furious note.
—
"Karina. Hey, Karina!"
The voice pulled her upward through layers of thick, dark water, each word a hand reaching deeper until finally, she broke the surface of consciousness. Her eyes opened slowly, the slightest glimmer of morning sun painting the inside of her lids gold. Figmond's voice. She tried to orient herself without moving, senses awakening one by one to the rhythmic creak of wood, the jostle of wheels against uneven ground.
A silhouette eclipsed the sun, nothing but a dark shape leaning over her until her vision focused on the familiar lines of his face. Then his features sharpened—the worry lines, the tired set of his jaw, and the puffiness around his eyes that spoke of tears shed while she slept.
"Hey!" His voice cracked with relief. "You're awake. I'm really glad you're awake." He closed his eyes and smiled, but it was the kind of smile that follows a storm, heavy with everything that came before it.
"Figmond?" Her voice emerged as something foreign—raspy, forced, an instrument left untouched too long. She tried to lift her head, but her body refused, a dead weight pinning her to whatever surface she lay on. "Where are we? The ghasts—
"Don't worry." He smiled wider now, and his brown eyes held hers with such warmth that some of the ice in her chest began to thaw. "We're safe."
Safe. The word settled over her, but didn't sink in. Each bump of the carriage sent a small spike of nerves through her frame. She stared at the wooden slats above, at the canvas cover filtering the morning light, and found nothing but empty space where her last memories should be. The Eugene Stretch. The ghasts. Figmond's worried face as she charged forward. Then—
Nothing.
She turned her head carefully, watching him now. He sat at the front of the wagon, reins loose in his hands, and for the first time since she'd known him, he looked genuinely at peace. A small smile played at his lips as the road stretched ahead. The morning light caught his profile, and something about the scene felt fragile, like a moment that could shatter if she spoke too loudly.
But she had to know.
She pushed herself up, ignoring the protest from every muscle, and moved to lean against the seat beside him.
"Oh—hey." His smile faltered, concern flooding back in. "Is something wrong? Should you be moving?"
"I can't remember." She pressed a hand to her forehead, where a dull ache was beginning to pulse. "How we got out. The Eugene Stretch—it's just... gone."
"Woah." Figmond pulled sharply on the reins, and the horses slowed to a halt. The sudden stillness made the world feel heavier.
He moved quickly, disappearing into the wagon bed and returning with a water pouch. "Here. Take this."
Karina leaned back against the wooden frame and drank, the water cool and sharp against her raw throat. Figmond busied himself with a rag, wetting it from the pouch, and then gently laid it across her forehead. The cold pressed against her skin, and slowly, the pounding in her skull began to recede.
"There," he said softly, settling beside her. "Just rest now. We have time."
She closed her eyes beneath the cool cloth, the morning sun warm on her face, and for now—for this single, suspended moment—she let the questions wait.
"You really don't remember anything?" Figmond asked, curiosity threading through his voice as he glanced sideways at her.
Karina lifted the cool rag from her forehead, leaning forward as if the motion might shake loose the missing pieces. "The last thing I recall is charging at them. Screaming." She frowned, the memory a single snapshot—movement, fury, and then nothing. "After that... empty."
Figmond was quiet for a moment, his hands finding the reins again though the horses remained still. When he spoke, his voice carried something strange. Wonder, maybe. Or unease.
"Well." He exhaled. "After you screamed at them, it was like something took over. Some kind of... frenzy. You moved like I've never seen you move. Honestly, I don't know where you found the energy." He shook his head slowly, as if still processing. "I blinked. More than once. And each time I opened my eyes, you were still going. Then suddenly—there you were. Standing over both ghasts. Corpses dissolving at your feet."
Karina's stomach turned. Not from disgust.
"And it didn't stop there," Figmond continued, his voice dropping lower. "The moment they fell, skeletons started pushing up through the ground. Crawling out like they'd been waiting for permission. And you..." He looked at her then, really looked. "You slayed them too."
She didn't realize she'd reached for her shoulder until her fingers found it, and the sudden sting made her flinch. Her muscles screamed beneath the lightest touch, fragile as old parchment. No wonder. She'd fought a war in her sleep.
"After that, you collapsed." Figmond's tone softened. "I hauled you onto the carriage. Honestly, I'm still not sure how we made it out of the Eugene Stretch without another attack. But I managed. Both of us unscathed."
The words hung between them. Unscathed. She almost laughed at the choice—her body felt scathed down to the bone—but she understood what he meant. Alive. Whole. Together.
"Figmond." She turned to face him fully, and when he met her eyes, she let the gratitude settle into her voice. "Thank you."
He blinked, caught off guard, and a flush crept up his neck. Before he could deflect, a thought seemed to strike him, and his expression shifted into something brighter.
"Oh! Hey, good news." He grinned now, the shadows lifting from his face. "We leveled up. The quest completed."
Karina heard the words—leveled up—and for a moment they didn't make sense. Then the meaning broke through, and a laugh escaped her, raw and surprised and real.
"We did it."
Figmond's grin widened, and suddenly they were both laughing, the sound filling the morning air, chasing away the weight of what they'd survived. Two travelers on a quiet road, celebrating something that felt, for this moment, like enough.