Lucian's eyes fluttered open to the same dim, greenish glow. Blinking against the cold light, the crushing reality settled over him like a stone.
Still in the cave.
"So it's actually real,* he thought, the weight of the truth crashing down. "Oh god."
He pushed himself up slowly, muscles stiff and aching from the night on the hard floor. The silence pressed in again, unchanging and absolute.
"No dream," he whispered hoarsely. "This is really happening."
Panic threatened to rise, but he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath.
"Okay, Lucian. You're here. You're stuck. But you're not dead yet. You've got to keep moving."
He scanned the cave, every shadow, every flicker of moss light, searching for something—anything—that might lead him out.
The fight wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
Lucian's stomach growled loudly, a hollow, painful reminder of how long it had been since he'd eaten. His mouth felt dry, throat parched—dehydrated and hungry in the unending gloom.
He rubbed his belly, grimacing. "I guess I have no choice."
He shuffled over to a patch of glowing moss clinging stubbornly to the cave wall. Tentatively, he plucked a handful and popped it into his mouth.
"Pttt, pttt… this tastes like shit," he muttered, grimacing at the bitter, slimy texture.
But hunger was relentless. He forced himself to chew and swallow, again and again, until the handful was gone.
"Better this than nothing" he thought grimly.
The moss didn't fill the emptiness, but it kept the worst of the hunger at bay—just enough to keep him moving.
Lucian wiped his mouth, grimacing from the taste but grateful for the small bit of sustenance. His stomach still churned, and his throat felt like sandpaper.
"Okay… water," he muttered, voice hoarse. "I need that too."
He paused, straining his ears over the steady dripping echoing through the vast circular cave. The sound was faint but steady—a promise somewhere in the darkness.
He stood up, eyes narrowing with determination. "If water's dripping, it's gotta be collecting somewhere."
Taking slow, careful steps toward the sound, Lucian followed the steady rhythm of droplets falling into unseen pools. Every step was heavy, every breath shallow, but hope sparked inside him.
The dripping grew louder, guiding him deeper into the darkness, where the faint glow of moss pulsed
Lucian's footsteps slowed as the sound of dripping water grew clearer, more immediate. Ahead, nestled between jagged rocks, a small hole glistened with moisture—a tiny natural basin where the water pooled.
He dropped to his knees, heart pounding with relief. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the cool, clear liquid. The water tasted fresh, cold against his dry throat, a stark contrast to the bitter moss he'd forced down.
He drank deeply, swallowing greedily like a man who hadn't tasted water in days. The cold spread through his body, easing some of the burning thirst and momentarily soothing the gnawing hunger.
As he sat back, Lucian let out a shaky breath, the first real hope he'd felt since waking in the cave.
"This… this helps," he whispered, fingers curling around the rock.
He glanced around the small pool, searching for any clues—any sign that might lead him closer to escape.
"Alright, Lucian, Now it's time to figure out the rest."
He pushed himself up, muscles stiff but resolve hardening.
The cave was still a maze, still a mystery, but at least now he had something to keep him going.
Lucian wiped the last droplets of water from his lips and sat back against the cool stone, running through everything he'd figured out so far.
"Alright… I'm in a circle cave. Big one. That's something."* He rubbed his bruised hand slowly. "I've got food—well, moss that tastes like shit—but it keeps me alive." He glanced at the glowing patches clinging stubbornly to the walls. "Water too, dripping from somewhere. That's a godsend."
He frowned, fingers tapping the stone. "And these walls… solid. No hollow spaces, no secret tunnels or chambers. Just unyielding rock."
He exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "So what now? No shortcuts, no cracks to exploit."* His eyes scanned the dim cave, shadows stretching like silent watchers.
*"Maybe it's not about breaking through. Maybe it's about finding the right path within the circle."
Lucian let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Man, this is so boring," he muttered, glancing around the endless stone walls. The silence pressed in on him, thick and unrelenting. "Maybe I should work out a little. Kill time."
He dropped to the ground and started with a few push-ups, counting each one aloud to keep his mind focused. His arms shook from the effort, but the movement was a welcome distraction from the oppressive stillness.
After push-ups, he moved into squats, his legs burning as he forced himself to keep going. He paced the small space between stretches, doing jumping jacks. The rhythm of his movements echoed faintly, bringing a strange sense of life to the silent cave.
"Gotta keep the blood flowing," he said between breaths, wiping sweat from his brow. "Can't let this place break me."
The workout didn't solve his problems, but it helped him reclaim some small piece of control—and kept the creeping panic from swallowing him whole.
As his muscles ached pleasantly, Lucian stopped and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah," he said quietly, "this'll do for now."
Lucian rubbed his sore arms and glanced around the cave, the weight of time pressing down on him. He shook his head with a tired smile.
"I should probably start marking the days," he muttered. "I'm literally turning into a caveman."
He reached down and picked up a sharp-edged rock from where he had found the water. Kneeling near the wall, he scratched two deep lines into the stone—one for each day he'd been trapped in this endless cave.
The marks were rough, uneven, but unmistakable. Two simple tally lines etched into the cold rock, a small testament to his survival.
"Two days…" he whispered, tracing the lines with a finger. "Feels like a lifetime."
He stepped back and studied the marks, feeling a strange mix of pride and desperation. At least this way, he wouldn't lose track of himself completely.
"Tomorrow," he said softly, "I'll add another one."
And with that, Lucian turned back to the darkened maze ahead, ready to face whatever came next.
Days blurred into nights as Lucian repeated his routine—eating the bitter moss, drinking from the small pool, marking tally lines on the wall, and pushing his body with makeshift workouts. Each night, he curled up against the cold stone, hoping sleep might bring a new perspective or a break in the endless cycle.
Two weeks passed.
Yet, despite his efforts, he made no progress toward escape. The cave remained an unchanging prison, its solid walls mocking his attempts to find a way out.
He traced the growing cluster of tally marks on the wall, feeling the weight of time pressing down on him.
"Two weeks trapped in this circle of stone. No cracks, no hidden doors, no miracles."
Still, Lucian refused to surrender. The routine, monotonous as it was, kept him grounded—a fragile thread holding him to hope.
And with that, he settled down once more, eyes heavy but mind restless, ready to face another day in the endless cave.
As Lucian settled down for the night, his mind drifted back to a strange sensation he'd felt days ago—a subtle vibration humming through the cave's stone walls, almost like a pulse beneath the surface. It was faint, barely perceptible, but unmistakably there.
He pressed his palm against the cold rock, closing his eyes to focus. The cave was silent again, but deep within, that low, rhythmic thrum seemed to stir—an almost imperceptible resonance that made the air feel alive.
"What was that?"he wondered, a flicker of curiosity cutting through his exhaustion.
It wasn't just the sound of dripping water or the echo of his footsteps. This was different—like the cave itself was breathing, vibrating in harmony with something unseen.
Lucian's fingers traced the rough stone, trying to catch the rhythm, to understand the strange energy beneath his skin.
"Maybe this place isn't just a prison."
The thought lingered as sleep pulled him under, the vibration humming softly in the back of his mind, a mysterious pulse waiting to be unraveled.