Rex followed the Dumrakar guide through winding tunnels, the glow of bioluminescent vines and hanging jellylight illuminating the walls in soft blues and greens. The air—or water-filled corridors—felt warmer here, calmer. They led him to a small alcove carved into the stone, lined with woven mats and thick bands of soft, glowing seaweed. It was simple, but the moment Rex touched the bedding, running his hands across the smooth fibers, he felt a strange warmth. A sense of home he hadn't experienced in years seeped through him.
He sat on the mat, leaning back against the stone wall, letting the bioluminescent light paint gentle shadows across his face. For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like he needed to run. He didn't feel like the world was about to swallow him whole. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Guilt for Tina's loss lingered in the pit of his stomach, but here, in the quiet, the glow eased it just enough to let him breathe.
As he rested, Rex noticed the faint, glowing dotted lines along the guide's arms and neck, following intricate, flowing patterns. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "What are those? Were you born with them?"
The guide smiled faintly, their luminous eyes reflecting light like stars. "No. They are earned. Through battle, through training in the deep, we gain them. They show experience, skill, and resilience." They let the words hang, leaving the specifics deliberately unspoken.
Rex studied the patterns more closely. "So… they make you stronger?"
The guide nodded. "They enhance strength, endurance under pressure, and vision in the darkness. Each person's dots are unique, reflecting their progress and trials." Rex marveled silently. Each set of lines looked almost like a fingerprint, crafted by survival itself.
After a long rest, Rex was summoned by Master Varrun, the tall, silver-scaled warrior waiting in the training cavern. The chamber was vast, half of it a deep pool of water, the other half stone platforms surrounding a pressurized training area. Mist rolled above the water, thick and heavy, making the room feel alive and breathing. Varrun handed him a practice dagger, the metal cold and smooth in Rex's hand.
"You must learn to fight with precision," Varrun said, his voice calm but commanding. "Strength alone will not save you in Dumrakar. Speed, strategy, and control are everything."
Rex tightened his grip on the dagger, heart pounding. Across from him, Varrun twirled a spear in a series of controlled spins, the tip reflecting the soft bioluminescent glow. He moved like liquid, eyes tracking every detail with perfect clarity.
They began slowly. Rex darted forward, thrusting the dagger, trying to match the master's timing. Varrun countered easily, the spear deflecting each blow with a gentle tap that sent shockwaves through Rex's arms. He twisted, dodged, and tried a sweeping strike—only for the master to pivot, the spear a blur as it moved along Rex's arm, forcing him back.
The sparring continued, a dance of steel and water. Each strike from Varrun was precise, not lethal, but punishing enough to teach Rex balance, timing, and adaptability. Rex lunged, rolled, and parried, sweat stinging his eyes. He tried to anticipate the spear's movement, but Varrun was always one step ahead. The master pushed him to his limits, forcing him to shift his weight, angle his body, and exploit openings Rex didn't even know existed.
Minutes turned into an hour. Rex's dagger grew slick, his arms trembled, but his mind sharpened. Each failed strike taught him more than words ever could. He began reading the master's movements, predicting angles, and responding with instinctive adjustments. Still, every misstep left him off-balance, vulnerable, humbled.
Finally, Varrun stepped back, spinning the spear into a relaxed hold. Rex dropped his dagger, chest heaving, dripping with sweat and saltwater. His muscles burned, his lungs ached, but there was a fierce clarity in his eyes. He had not won a single exchange, yet he had learned.
Varrun nodded, a glimmer of approval in his silver eyes. "You have potential. But raw strength alone will not survive Dumrakar. Every battle is fought with mind, body, and anticipation. Remember this lesson."
Rex sank onto the edge of the pool, exhausted and dripping, yet feeling something he hadn't felt in years: purpose. Here, in the depths of Dumrakar'uun, with strange glowing patterns and masters of the abyss, he had a chance to prepare—to grow strong enough to survive what awaited outside. And for the first time, he felt that he might not just survive—he might finally become something more.