River sparred with Amalia while Albert watched from the sidelines. He could feel it—the difference. They had not only become bonded but had both received their second bands, now recognized as Tier Two mages. The bond had made them stronger. Faster. Sharper. He was falling behind. Amalia landed another clean strike, knocking him off balance just as Kamir’s voice rang out. “Enough for today.” They stepped back, catching their breath. “I’ve signed you up for a Tier Two dungeon,” Kamir continued, arms crossed as he studied their reactions. Their brows furrowed; Heartbeats quickened. Tier Two? What did that mean—how much more danger were they about to face? Kamir didn’t pause for long. “You performed admirably last time,” he said. “And I believe you’re ready. But these dungeons are different. The essence is thicker, more volatile. The creatures are smarter. You’ll need more than instinct this time.” River swallowed hard. He didn’t feel ready. His egg still hadn’t hatched. He was the last of the bonded without a creature—and its silence was louder than anything else in his mind.
Albert, meanwhile, looked almost smug, standing tall with Tessa perched proudly beside him, like a knight with a loyal hound. Kamir’s eyes narrowed. “You won’t be bringing your bonded with you,” he said, his gaze flicking between Albert and Amalia. “They’re not ready. They’ve still got a long way to go.” Both of them seemed to deflate at the news. But after a beat, they nodded — smiling softly as if they’d already known. Neither of them wanted to risk Tessa or Nymeira in anything dangerous. At least not yet. The terragrym and dragon were far from ready. River said nothing.
In the days that followed, he found himself training less and less with Albert and Amalia.
The two of them had shifted to working alongside their bonded, often joining the others who had creatures of their own. River, meanwhile, stayed with Kamir — alone. He was always alone now. While the others had their bonded, River’s egg had yet to hatch. Not even a sound had escaped it. Time passed slowly. The training was hard, but it wasn’t what drained him. It was the feeling of being left behind. He tried to ignore it—but it crept in all the same. Finally, the day arrived. Once again, they stood in the early morning light, clad in armor and preparing for adventure. But this time, everything had changed. Looking around, River saw a stark contrast between this group and the one they’d joined for their first delve. These men and women were older. More scarred. Their faces carried the weight of battles already fought—eyes sharp and distant. And Kamir wouldn’t be joining them this time.
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That alone made River’s stomach twist. Still, he took some small comfort in the sight of two delvers with bonded wolves at their sides. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He looked at Albert and Amalia, deep in conversation. He wanted to join them, needed to. But couldn’t bring himself to move. So instead, River just watched from a distance and forced a smile.
Trying to reassure them.
Trying to reassure himself. As they stepped out into the Wastelands, the presence returned. Familiar, but unreachable. Watching. Judging. The loneliness had gnawed at him—maybe it was making him imagine things. Something was watching. He couldn't place it. Couldn't see it. But it was there. He kept it to himself, eyes scanning the terrain as they walked. Nothing came for them from the shadows. Still, he stayed quiet—and vigilant.
They arrived at the dungeon entrance by nightfall. The sun dipped low behind jagged rock formations, and the entrance loomed—still waiting. Iska, the delve captain, met them at the edge of the clearing. “We rest tonight,” she announced. “The delve begins in the morning.” Without hesitation, the veteran delvers dropped their packs and pulled out sleeping rolls. Within minutes, most of them were already asleep. River stared, baffled. How could they sleep—here? In the Wastelands? In front of a dungeon?
A few delvers were assigned to keep watch in shifts, but River approached Iska before she could call the first name. “I don’t really sleep,” he said. “Not since… the change.” She studied him, then smiled—not unkindly, but with a strange weight to it. “Primordial,” she muttered, then nodded. “Fine. You’ve got the night shift. Wake one of the others if something happens.” And so, River kept watch. The darkness out here wasn’t like the night in Varosha—it was deeper, heavier. It pressed against him like a shroud, turning the world into a void. It made his chest tighten. Claustrophobic. Despite the open sky. He pushed the thought aside. Sliding essence into his eyes, he surveyed the wasteland then, with no one to interrupt him, he reached deeper. He stretched his awareness downward, into the earth. And there, beneath them… He felt it. Hundreds of creatures. They skittered through tunnels, stalked corridors, crawled along carved stone. Their presence buzzed like insects at the edge of his mind. And deeper still—the dungeon core. It pulsed with power. A will. It pushed outward, pressing against the land above like a tide trying to breach the shore. River recoiled, yanking his consciousness back with a shudder. This dungeon was stronger than the last one. Much stronger. And for the first time in a while, River asked himself a question he hadn’t needed to ask in days:
Would they make it? For a moment, he considered running—but the thought died almost instantly. He couldn’t be the reason more people died.
