The ascent was the hardest thing I had ever done.
The passage that had seemed so narrow on the way down now felt endless, the walls pressing in from all sides, the darkness clinging to the edges of my vision like a living thing that refused to release its grip. Each step was a battle against exhaustion, against the weight in my arms, against the fear that Runa would slip away before I could get her to the surface.
Runa's body was heavy in my arms, her limp form pressed against my chest, her breathing shallow and uneven. I had healed her; the light had brought her back from the brink of death, had knitted her flesh and mended her bones and restarted her heart, but she was still weak, still fragile, still clinging to life by a thread that could snap at any moment.
