Date: April 27, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Ulviya opened her eyes and lay for a moment, staring at the stone ceiling above her, trying to understand where she was. Then memory returned — the white Herald, the battle, the flight, the cave. And the pain. Dull, aching, it pulsed through her entire body, reminding her that she was still alive.
She sat up, and the world swam around her. Her head spun, and her stomach was hollow — so hollow it felt like a black hole was forming inside her, ready to swallow her from within. She hadn't eaten since yesterday. Or longer. She had lost track of time.
Nearby, leaning against the wall, sat Rosh. He wasn't asleep — his mismatched eyes were open, and he watched her with the same cold, assessing expression as always. But there was no hostility in his gaze. Only weariness and, perhaps, a hint of curiosity.
"You look terrible," he said, and there was no mockery in his voice. Only statement of fact.
"You too," Ulviya replied, and the corners of her mouth twitched in a faint smile.
Datuk lay on his back, his chest bandaged in white, slowly rising and falling. He was still unconscious, but his breathing had grown deeper, steadier, and his face, yesterday pale as death, now had a faint, barely perceptible tinge of life. Sobra lay beside him, his silver-striped fur crusted with dried blood, but the bear was breathing evenly and, it seemed, even sleeping peacefully.
Ulviya looked toward the cave entrance. There, beyond the gray cliffs, shone the white light — the same light that flooded this strange world. It was not hostile. It simply was. Like the air. Like the stone. Like the Tree's pulse, still echoing in her chest.
"I need to find water," she said, rising to her feet. Her legs trembled, but she stood. "And food. We won't survive if we just sit here."
"I'll go with you," Rosh said, but Ulviya shook her head.
"No. You're needed here. If someone wakes up... or if danger comes... you need to be on guard."
Rosh wanted to object but changed his mind. He nodded, and his fingers, folded in their familiar pattern, twitched faintly.
"Don't go far," he said. "And don't take risks. We're already at our limit."
Ulviya nodded and stepped toward the exit.
---
Outside was quiet. White sand, white cliffs, white sky — all of it was as it had been yesterday. But something had changed. Or so it seemed. Ulviya didn't know. She simply walked, keeping close to the cliffs, scanning her surroundings for water.
She didn't find it immediately. She had to circle several rock outcroppings, descend into a small hollow, and walk a little further before she heard the sound. Quiet, barely perceptible — the gurgle of water flowing over stones.
The stream was small, shallow, but the water was clear and cold. Ulviya knelt, cupped her hands, and took a drink. The water burned her throat, but with the cold came relief. She drank long, greedily, and only when her thirst was quenched did she raise her head and look around.
All around, among the white sand, grew strange plants. Their trunks were white, smooth as the Tree's bark, and on their thin, curved branches hung fruit. White, with a silvery sheen, they reminded her of the fruit she had once seen in the Forest Dwellers' city. Only different. Alien. But they smelled — sweet and fresh.
Ulviya carefully picked one. The skin was thin, and when she bit into it, sweet juice ran down her chin. The taste was unusual — somewhere between apple and honey, with a slight bitterness. But it was food. Alive, real, restoring strength.
She gathered as many as she could carry, wrapping them in the hem of her torn shirt. Then, taking a few more drinks from the stream, she filled large pieces of white bark she found by the water — they were smooth, deep, and perfect as bowls. In one, she carried water for Datuk; in another, for Rosh; in a third, for Sobra. The fourth she kept for herself.
Returning to the cave, she felt strength slowly returning to her. Not much — a drop in the ocean — but enough to keep going.
---
Nothing had changed in the cave during her absence. Rosh sat in the same place, his mismatched eyes — green and brown — following her as she entered. Datuk still lay unconscious. Sobra... Sobra opened his eyes.
Ulviya froze for a moment, looking at the bear. His amber eyes were clouded but alive, and he looked at her with the same calm, trusting expression as always. He was weak — evident from how heavily he breathed, how his muscles trembled with each inhale. But he was alive. He had woken.
"You did well," she said, approaching him. "You made it."
Sobra snorted softly, and in that sound was something like gratitude. Or relief. Ulviya didn't know. She simply placed the piece of white bark filled with water before him and put a few white fruit beside it.
The bear looked at the water, then at her. Then, with difficulty lifting his head, he began to drink. His tongue, rough, warm, touched the water, and Ulviya heard him drink — greedily, with pleasure, as one drinks after a long drought.
She left him and went to Rosh.
"Here," she said, handing him a piece of bark with water and a handful of fruit. "You need to eat too."
Rosh took the bark without a word. He drank slowly, in small sips, and Ulviya noticed how his pale, tired face slowly began to revive. He didn't eat the fruit immediately — placed them beside him on a stone and continued drinking.
"Thank you," he said finally, and in his cold, even voice, something like sincerity sounded.
"You're welcome," Ulviya replied.
She went to Datuk, sat beside him. The dwarf lay motionless, his face pale, with dried blood on his lips, seeming almost dead. But he was breathing. Breathing evenly, deeply, and Ulviya knew — he was alive.
"Wake up," she said, leaning toward him. "You can't sleep forever."
Datuk didn't answer. She took the piece of bark with water and carefully brought it to his lips. Drops ran down his chin, and the dwarf, feeling the moisture, stirred faintly. Then again. And again.
He opened his eyes.
---
At first, he understood nothing. Only pain — dull, aching, it pulsed through his entire body, and he couldn't tell where the wound was and where just fatigue. Then he saw Ulviya's face. Pale, tired, but alive. She looked at him, and in her brown, deep eyes was something like relief.
"You... you're alive," he rasped, his voice foreign, hoarse.
"I'm alive," she replied. "You too. Drink."
She brought the bark of water to his lips, and Datuk, with difficulty lifting his head, took a sip. The water was cold, clean, and it burned his throat, but with the cold came relief. He drank long, greedily, and only when the water was gone did he lie back, breathing heavily.
"Where are we?" he asked, looking around. "What happened?"
"We're in a cave," Ulviya replied. "Sobra brought us. You were unconscious. The Herald... the Herald stayed behind. Didn't pursue."
Datuk nodded and looked at his chest. The white bandages were soaked with blood, but he felt the wound beginning to close. Regeneration was working. Slowly, but working.
"Not a bad fight," he said, and in his hoarse, strained voice was something like satisfaction.
Sobra, lying beside him, made a sound. It was not a growl, not a howl — something in between, deep, guttural, and in that sound was something like agreement. Or pride. The bear looked at his friend with his amber eyes, and in their depths, clouded with pain, glowed a spark of that same fire that had led them through so many battles.
Rosh, sitting opposite, raised his head. His mismatched eyes — green and brown — moved from Datuk to Sobra, from Sobra to Ulviya. In his gaze was not understanding. Only bewilderment and, perhaps, a touch of contempt.
"Not a bad fight?" he repeated. "You almost died. You were centimeters from being cut in half. And you call that 'not a bad fight'?"
Datuk smirked. His smirk was crooked, almost angry, but there was no malice in it.
"I'm alive," he said. "So it was a good fight."
Ulviya looked at him, then at Rosh. In the half-blood's eyes, she saw what she felt herself — a mix of weariness, relief, and a touch of madness. They had fought a Herald. They had survived. And now this dwarf, bleeding, lying on the stone floor, said the fight was "not bad."
"They're insane," she thought, and the corners of her mouth twitched in a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Both of them are insane. And Sobra too."
She shook her head and handed Datuk a white fruit.
"Eat," she said. "You need to regain your strength."
Datuk took the fruit, bit into it. Sweet juice ran down his chin, and he, not wiping it, chewed and swallowed.
"Not bad," he said. "What is it?"
"I don't know," Ulviya replied. "But it's edible. And that's all that matters."
Rosh took his fruit, turned it over in his hands, then bit into it. His pale, tired face softened slightly.
"Not bad," he repeated Datuk's words, and in his cold, even voice, for the first time, something like satisfaction sounded.
Sobra, finished drinking, lowered his head onto his paws and closed his eyes. He didn't eat — probably couldn't. But the water seemed to help. His breathing grew deeper, steadier, and Ulviya noticed how his silver-striped fur lightened slightly where the ointment was taking effect.
Ulviya leaned back against the wall, feeling fatigue settle on her shoulders. Beside her, in the cave's twilight, sat three — the dwarf, the half-blood, the bear. Wounded, exhausted, nearly defeated. But alive.
She took her fruit, bit into it. Sweet juice ran down her chin, and she, not wiping it, chewed and swallowed.
"Not bad," she thought. "Not bad for the first day."
The cave was quiet. Only the breathing of the wounded, only the drip of water somewhere in the depths, only the Tree's pulse, still echoing in their chests.