When the Darkness Falls

As soon as the old mage's spell dissipated, the cave was filled with deafening silence. Somewhere off to the side, a faint glimmer of ether flickered — it was Ayra, already vanished into the shadows, seemingly dissolving into the wall. The rest of the team stood still. Rud and Lans exchanged glances, silently sharing looks full of distrust and readiness to attack.

But Siren had no time for that.

Like a mere mortal unable to directly channel the flow of ether, he felt the full weight of the previous mental wave. It was as if someone tore a part of his consciousness away, leaving a pulsating and angry void. Nevertheless, he got up, staggering but with a clear intention to escape.

But as soon as he lifted his head, he realized two things immediately.

First: the entrance through which they had come was blocked by a heap of stones that crumbled after the magical bombardment, forming an impassable wall.

Second: they were all in deep trouble.

The ether, as if possessed, began to chaotically gather into knots. Waves left from previous spells provoked the growth of a network, forming those very "veins" capable of bursting and tearing the air to shreds.

Siren froze for a second, stunned.

— Damn jackals… — he hissed through clenched teeth, sharply turning around.

Siren ran, choosing a direction opposite to the rubble. If the entrance they used was blocked, then there was a chance that the other entrance, used by another group, was still clear. He just hoped it wouldn't be blocked as well…

Ayra crouched in the half-shadow, almost merging with the stone pillar like a shadow aware of its own existence. From her position, she could see the negotiations. Lans and Rud stood on a ledge, slightly above the rest of the crowd. Opposite them were about a dozen people, arranged almost perfectly like a combat squad. Looking at their gear and weapons, she felt an inner discomfort.

But Ayra's attention was not on the weapons. She studied the formation: there were three crossbowmen, one archer, three mages, and one priest with a rifle. The greatest threat, in her opinion, was the old man with the staff, whose magical potential was terrifying.

"If something goes wrong, I'll have to buy time for these fools. The priority target will be the old man, but will I be able to get to him…?" she hesitated.

Meanwhile, Lans demonstratively raised his hands. A polite smile appeared on his gaunt face.

— Gentlemen... and, perhaps, milady, — his gaze slid over the only black-haired girl with a staff, — it seems you considered us a threat since you decided to shoot first?

Mearin, the old man with the staff, held a pause, then briefly shook his head:

— I apologize for my companion. He's hot-tempered, but I assure you, he did not intend to hurt anyone... Right, Tas?

He turned to the man with graying hair and a rifle. The latter looked sidelong, calmly enduring the indignant tone.

— There is an old saying in my lands, — said the shooter. — See a leper — shoot before he breaks things.

He emphasized the word "leper" as if it disgusted him.

— And if you're with him… doesn't that mean you all pose a danger?

Rud clenched his fists while Lans only smirked.

— He's not with us, — he said lazily. — We picked him up on the way. He fell at our feet, begging for help. And we, as polite people, didn't pass by.

Tas squinted:

— So you're dragging a walking problem with you… out of nobility? Funny.

Lans chuckled, reading the question left between the lines:

— He said he would help us bypass traps. He has, you see, a sixth sense. Though to be honest, he turned out to be damn useful. A rare talent… in finding traps with his own flesh. Like a dog trained to run on mines.

Tas smirked, scratching the back of his head:

— Well, well. I almost thought you'd lost your mind. Carrying a live bomb with you... But it turns out you just cleverly cover yourself with him. Sneaky.

— Enough, — Mearin intervened, his voice becoming firmer. — How they treat this person is their business. It doesn't concern us!

He turned to Lans.

— We laid down our weapons, approached peacefully, so why do you keep your blade hidden?

Lans felt Ayra shift slightly in the enemy's shadow, a sign he had seen more than once. He frowned deeply:

— Don't take my words the wrong way, but you have a clear numerical advantage. We can't just turn and walk away, hoping you won't shoot us in the back.

His words were clearly aimed at the shooter, but the latter just yawned boredly.

Mearin wanted to reply but suddenly fell silent. Everyone present simultaneously turned toward a noise.

There, dozens of meters away, on the stone plain of the cave, a man was running. He was fast. Perhaps unnaturally fast — especially for someone who supposedly shouldn't move like that in complete darkness.

It was Siren.

— Wow, — whistled Tas. — The dog runs to his master. What do you feed him?

— We?.. — Lans raised his eyebrow in surprise.

But then Mearin, frowning, slowly said:

— It seems… he's not running to you.

He dashed past them, not even glancing their way. As if they were no more than background noise to the horror driving him forward.

The words hung in the air, then the first crash pierced it.

From beneath the cave ceiling came a crack, and huge stone pillars began to tremble. One after another, they exploded as if someone had set off a chain of firecrackers.

— Take cover! — someone shouted.

But it was already too late.

Massive boulders, debris, and chunks of the ceiling began to fall. Without hesitation, Rud grabbed Lans by the collar and dragged him along:

— Damn you! Stop! Where are you going, idiot?!

But Siren had already disappeared around the corner, ignoring everyone. Both squads, abandoning everything that had bound them before, ran after him in unison.

— Move faster! To the exit! — Mearin barked, absorbing ether into a teleportation spell. In a flash of light, he appeared a hundred meters ahead, chasing the others.

Mages cast acceleration spells, fighters strengthened their legs. The cave was collapsing — and now everyone hoped to reach the exit in time.

Approaching the entrance, Siren saw several people emerging from sparks of light shimmering in the air with a faint silvery glow. Mearin, the old man with deep wrinkles and a heavy staff in hand, supported a young girl. His face showed concentration, his forehead was covered in sweat. Focusing again, he summoned ether, tracing an indecipherable formula. A thin web of light contracted in his palm, and a moment later he vanished into a sparkling rift. He was pulling his comrades out one by one, carrying them through the remaining spatial link of the cave. With each pull, it grew harder — his hands trembled, but he didn't stop.

Almost simultaneously, Ayra emerged from the side shadows. Her movement was so swift and precise it seemed she hadn't appeared but rather grown out of the shadow itself. She didn't stop at the entrance — her light and flexible body continued forward, covering another couple of meters. Only then did she sharply turn, watching what was happening behind.

Following her gaze, Siren noticed Tas approaching unnaturally fast from deep inside the cave — the sharpshooter with a rifle slung over his shoulder. His tall figure literally slid across the stone floor. Flickers of ether danced beneath his boots — the light shimmered, turning into thin tongues as if he was skating on ice without touching the ground. The charms embedded in his footwear allowed movement that could make even an experienced mage envious.

— Stop right there! — came a furious roar from deep in the cave.

From the darkness appeared Rud. His silhouette charged like a mad bull, like a living barrier. In one hand he gripped his heavy blade, and with the other tightly held Lans, a mage whose body hung limp like a sack. Obviously, during the escape, Lans couldn't skillfully cast spells and had to rely on his energetic companion.

Despite Siren starting to run earlier than the others, somehow he ended up almost last. His breathing was ragged, his vision blurred, his legs tangled, but he kept moving forward until he suddenly felt a sharp jerk backward.

— Got you! — growled Rud, catching the blade under his arm and grabbing Siren by the collar.

— Back off, you lunatic! — shouted Siren, struggling. He tried to wriggle free, but the steel grip of the warrior was relentless. The strength, fueled by ether, made Rud a true powerhouse. Siren knew he had no chance to break free.

With only a few steps left to the exit, Rud, without slowing down, tossed Siren like a kitten and hurled him forward with all his might.

— Son of a bitch ! 

Siren flew through the air fully aware that he had no control over his body at that moment. He saw one of Mearin's mages, just teleported, appear before him. The mage hadn't even had time to stand on his feet before Siren collided with him at full speed. Their bodies crashed, and they both tumbled on the ground.

— Ow! — the mage cried, clutching his side.

Siren rolled several times, then suddenly sat up and looked around. To his surprise, he realized the fall wasn't as painful as he expected. Following the flickering ether strip in the air, he understood someone had deliberately softened his fall. The charm patterns melted into the air, but their direction clearly indicated Mearin's figure. The old man stood, slightly tilting his head, watching him intently. His gaze was thoughtful and cold, like someone used to evaluating and analyzing.

Siren silently got up and tried to retreat. He took only a few steps when Ayra suddenly appeared before him as if out of nowhere. She stood directly in front of him, her hands hidden beneath her cloak, her hood still concealing her face.

— How far were you planning to go? — she asked in a hoarse voice.

Siren froze, then slowly turned around. Behind him stood Rud, blocking the way to retreat. He rested his sword on his shoulder and squinted darkly.

— Ha. Lucky you noticed the collapse before it happened, huh? — his voice was tense.

Next to him stood Lans, bent over, clutching his stomach. The mage looked as if he had just been brought back from the dead. He couldn't even straighten up — his entire posture screamed weakness.

Ayra silently approached Siren and sharply pulled the rope tied to his wrist. Siren didn't even try to stop her — he looked as if he had once again realized he had no way out. Ayra tugged the rope several times, testing its strength, then without ceremony handed the end to Rud.

— What? Why me again?! — he protested.

— Lans is not able to hold someone in a critical situation, — Ayra replied coldly. — I will watch over the appearing enemies. You're the only one left. And besides... who let him go when they attacked?

Rud snorted:

— Come on?! He broke free himself! What was I supposed to do?! Protect Lans or chase that bastard? Besides, thanks to me, he escaped and managed to warn us about the collapse!

— Oh, so he warned? — Ayra said dryly. — I thought he just rushed past us to the exit. Stop whining. This dog is now your responsibility. Watch him more carefully.

She turned and disappeared into the shadows again.

Rud sighed annoyedly, took a short look at the rope, then looked at Siren.

- Listen here, scumbag. I don't know what you think about yourself there, but find out one thing. You're just a tramp we picked up. You'll do what we say, or I'll personally end you. ?

Sairen replied:

— Fuck u-

He didn't have time to agree. Rud abruptly stepped forward and, without hesitation, hit him in the face. Siren passed out on the spot.