Baines barely remembered crossing the threshold.
His body moved on instinct alone, dragging itself forward even as the cold still clung to his nerves. The moment he passed beneath the statues, something shifted.
Several of the black tendrils that had invaded his body loosened, as if drawn away by an unseen current.
They slid out of him and into the stone figures.
Relief washed through his limbs as the pressure eased and the biting cold dulled.
But it wasn't over.
Some of the smoke didn't leave.
A handful of tendrils peeled away from him only to slip past the statues instead, seeping into the cave itself. They spread outward, unraveling as ink dropped into water.
It wasn't until he reached his makeshift area and slid down the cave walls that he experienced the changes.
The air had gotten worse than before.
It thinned further, growing heavy and resistant, just as he experienced outside the cave. Each breath dragged against his lungs.
The worst part was that it kept decreasing.
The darkness deepened as if the cave itself had dimmed, shadows thickening into something almost tangible.
Baines forced himself onward, ignoring the ache building in his joints. He didn't stop until he reached the small corner of the cave he had claimed as his own and where his food and clothes were stored.
Only then did his body give out.
He collapsed against the stone wall, breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls.
Another set of clothes lay ruined on his body, torn and darkened with grime. Bruises blossomed along his arms and legs where stone had scraped skin raw during his crawl back.
His breath was erratic.
'The smoke… It's still inside me,' he thought, unease settling. He had thought it would get attached to the statue, as it normally should.
At that moment, the remaining tendrils finally withdrew, slipping free of his flesh and dispersing into the cave. The cold vanished with them.
With the numbness gone. Instead of relief, what replaced it was worse.
Pain crashed into him all at once.
Every bruise flared, and every cut burned. His nerves screamed as sensation returned in a violent rush.
He couldn't hold it back.
A guttural scream tore from his throat as he clutched at his ribs, fingers digging uselessly into aching flesh.
[INITIATING EMERGENCY FIRST AID]
He didn't hear it.
His scream rose another pitch as the sound ripped from him again and again, raw and unrestrained. What ached him wasn't just physical pain. It was a mixture of physical pain, days of fear, exhaustion, and restraint shattered in that moment.
A part of him expected that someone would have come by now; however, it turned out to be just wishful thinking.
No one came.
The statues stirred at the entrance, stone grinded as they strained toward the sound, only to jam against one another, trapped by their own immobility. The gap they created was small, and the consequences for that were severe
More black smoke seeped inward.
…
By the time his cries subsided, his voice was gone.
Baines sat slumped in the corner of the cave, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. His breathing slowed to shallow pulls. Tears had long since dried on his cheeks, leaving tight tracks against dirt- and blood-streaked skin.
He stared into the dark without focus.
Then the voice returned.
[WARNING: OXYGEN LEVEL IS RAPIDLY DROPPING]
His body jolted upright.
"W-What?" His voice cracked. "What's happening?"
[OXYGEN PRESENT IS CURRENTLY BEING CONSUMED AT AN ACCELERATED RATE]
'Consumed?' The word sank in like a stone.
The smoke that had entered the cave was devouring what little air remained. The only relatively safe place was losing its oxygen.
As Eye said, the changes were immediate.
The walls seemed to inch closer as the air thickened. Each breath felt heavier than the last, dragging against his chest like resistance.
"Is there anything I can—" His words cut off as his lungs seized.
He clutched at his chest, fingers trembling.
'I can't… breathe.'
[OXYGEN LEVEL HAS DROPPED FROM 60% TO 35%]
Panic surged.
He tried to draw deeper breaths, but the air refused him.
He clawed at the air as his vision blurred, dark spots blooming at the edges.
'Not again,' he thought weakly.
His legs buckled.
He collapsed to the ground, one arm sweeping blindly across the stone. His hand struck one of the grain sacks, knocking it aside. The bag tipped, its contents spilling outward, skittering across the floor and vanishing into the cracks below.
He didn't see it.
[LOW OXYGEN LEVEL IS DETRIMENTAL TO HOST HEALTH]
More system alerts flooded his mind, overlapping and urgent; however, one line cut through the rest.
['EYE' IS ENTERING TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN DUE TO FORCED INTEGRATION STRAIN]
"…Hah," he whispered faintly.
His thought barely formed before his strength gave out and darkness closed in.