The fire was dead behind them, and the light Jace carried was barely enough.
He moved fast but careful, his small torch held low, throwing jagged shadows that twisted with every footstep. The flame wasn't for visibility — just enough to keep them from smashing into stone. Beyond its flicker, the cave was a swallowing mouth of black.
Sarah followed close, hand resting on her longsword's hilt, boots crunching against loose gravel. The air was shifting — tighter, cooler, damp. Her ears strained for hoofbeats, but all she could hear was breath. Hers. Mira's. Theo's.
"We've only got two more torches," Mira hissed, voice sharp with worry. "We go too deep, we won't get out."
Theo's shield scraped against stone as he adjusted his grip. "If we stop now, we don't get out anyway."
Jace's voice floated back, steady and low. "Turn here. Tight crawl. Left side widens."
The passage veered suddenly, forcing them to shoulder along a curved wall. It wasn't narrow enough to block a pursuer, but the bend would slow anything fast. Still too exposed. No natural hold.
"No good," Theo murmured. "Nowhere to anchor. They could still pressure us."
Sarah nodded, already pushing forward.
Ten more paces. Then the floor dipped — subtle at first, then sharply. The stone turned slick underfoot. Jace lifted the torch higher, and its dim glow revealed what they needed: a jagged cleft in the rock, barely two shoulders wide.
Jace looked back, eyes catching Sarah's. "This is it."
She stepped in first. The cleft wasn't shaped for people — she had to turn sideways, sliding her sword past her hip, shoulders scraping cold stone. Dust filled her mouth. The rock pressed against her cheek. She slipped through.
On the other side: space. Not much, but enough.
A low, bowl-like depression opened in the stone, ringed with fractured ledges just high enough to crouch behind. Dead air hung there — thick and unmoving. Sound wouldn't carry far. The path continued on, trailing deeper into the cave system.
It unnerved her that they'd slept here without scouting that direction.
She turned and whispered, "Go."
Mira came next, bow unstrung but ready. She hissed as she squeezed through, then dropped low behind a jagged shelf of stone. Then Jace, guarding the torch with one hand. Then Theo — the tightest fit — his shield nearly wedged in the rock. He grunted but made it through.
They fanned out, silent, settling into shadow. Mira strung her bow with Theo's help — she still wasn't strong enough to do it solo. When she finished, Jace pressed the torch to the wall, snuffing it with a muffled hiss.
Darkness swallowed them. Not total, but thick — oppressive.
They huddled together against the wall, pressed close, breathing shallow.
Sarah drew her sword.
"As soon as one of them tries to get through that gap, we hit them," she whispered.
Jace, crouched near the mouth, drew another short blade and kept his voice low. "They're armored across the chest, but legs and underbelly looked exposed. They'll have the reach advantage."
"I'm gonna start carrying a spear," Theo muttered.
They fell quiet.
A sharp, distant slam echoed off stone. Metal on rock — up the passage they'd just come through.
Sarah clenched her grip.
If anything followed them through that cleft, it wouldn't see the edge coming.
Then they heard it — voices drifting through the stone.
Not goblin chirps. Not the dry hissing of kobolds. These voices were deep, guttural, layered with a roughness that scraped like wet gravel. There was weight in the way they spoke — not just sound, but presence.
The slamming started again. Heavy. Rhythmic. Metal against stone.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Jace froze, torch forgotten at his side. "They're mining the passage wider," he hissed. "They're too big to fit — they're making room."
Sarah's jaw clenched. "I knew I saw movement earlier. Someone was tracking us. This group's too organized." She looked down the tunnel, then back to the others. "We need to hold them here."
Jace was already shaking his head. "We're not ready for this fight, Sarah. Those centaurs are huge — too well armed, too well armored. We have no advantage in this space."
"We fight here," she said. "Then we fall back."
Mira's voice came quietly from the dark. "What if there's nowhere else to fall back to?"
Theo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "We're gonna be fine," he said.
Any other time, Mira would've answered with something sharp — a smirk, a quip, a jab. But now, she just leaned into the hug. She didn't say anything.
They were all scared in here.
Sarah turned to Jace. "Can you set anything? Anything that might slow them?"
Jace hesitated, thinking. Then slowly shook his head. "I was looking for spots earlier, but there's nothing that'd hold. And honestly… I don't have anything that could hurt them. Not with their size."
He swallowed. "Sarah… they're big."
Sarah's fingers tightened around her sword hilt.
The sound of steel on stone continued — steady, deliberate, close.
She closed her eyes for half a breath, then two.
They're mining the cave wider.
They're not just coming. They're preparing.
Her chest rose, then stuttered. She hadn't noticed the tremble in her hands until just now — the faint hitch in her breath, the chill behind her ribs. It came fast. Fear. Real fear.
She hated it.
We were overconfident. We thought we could handle the threats out here.
Maybe Harold was right.
He'd warned her and tried to get her to turn around.
She had just ignored him then pushed anyway, and she had taken them all with her.
Sarah's grip loosened. Then re-tightened — steady now. The thought passed like a pulse through her limbs, and her spine straightened.
No one needed her regrets. They needed a plan.
"Alright," she said, low and sharp. "Work the problem."
She turned to Theo. "When they breach, you hold center. Shield up. Don't push, don't swing, just hold. I'll be right behind you."
He nodded. "Got it."
"I'll strike around you. Keep them off you — don't chase the hit, just give me a lane."
Then to Mira: "When you're ready to fire, call it. I'll drop low."
Mira nodded, one hand tightening on the bowstring. "You better," she said, almost a whisper of a smirk.
"Jace," Sarah continued, "you're our pivot. If something happens I'll need you to solve it. When we first engage I want you to light a torch in case we need to retreat deeper into this cave."
"Understood." Jace was already shifting weight between his feet, blades loose in his hands.
Sarah exhaled through her nose.
The rhythmic clang of picks echoed through the rock, steady as a war drum. One hit. Another. Another. Then — a sudden shift in tone.
A different sound.
Crack.
Somewhere up the passage, stone gave way — not cleanly, but violently. A groan of pressure followed by the crash of collapsing rock. Shouts rang out — sharp, guttural, echoing against the stone in harsh tones. The centaurs were calling to each other.
Then came the sound of metal dragging against stone — something too large, armored, and alive, squeezing through the narrowed cleft they'd just mined open.
One of them made it through.
Jace leaned forward near the mouth, blades at the ready, barely breathing.
"That's one," he whispered.
Theo adjusted his stance, preparing to surge into the gap. Sarah moved up beside him, her blade angled low and ready, her shoulders squared with his. They were going to hold this line — whatever it took.
Then a bright light appeared — flickering, orange, approaching from around the bend.
Behind it came the sound of heavy movement — boots or hooves scraping rock. And more than one. The picks started again, slamming into stone in a stuttering rhythm.
They were still trying to widen the tunnel.
The torchlight grew brighter until it stopped at the narrow entrance just beyond the cleft. A large figure stood just outside the squeeze.
All of them froze — even their breath caught like it might betray them.
The voice came loud and irritated: something guttural and clipped. Not human. Then it shouted again — a sharp command — and tried to force its way through.
Stone scraped against armor. A frustrated growl echoed.
Sarah's voice cut the silence. "Don't let him get away."
Theo didn't hesitate. He surged forward and slammed his shield into the narrow opening, locking the path.
Sarah moved with him, emerging beside the shield just as the torchlight revealed their enemy fully — a centaur, not one of the massive ones, but still easily two feet taller than any of them. Its upper body was thick with muscle, face half-shadowed by the torch it held in one hand. In the other, it tried to raise an axe — too large for the space.
It never got the chance.
Sarah lunged forward, all caution abandoned. She drove her sword straight into the centaur's exposed midsection — the soft place where its human torso met the horse-like lower half. The blade sank deep.
The centaur screamed, a furious, guttural cry that shook the stone walls.
Its axe clattered to the ground.
Then a huge arm swung, faster than she could react — and backhanded her across the passage. Sarah hit the wall hard, air driven from her lungs and she dropped to the ground.
The centaur reared back, bellowing in rage, its massive torso twisted unnaturally in the narrow stone throat. It tried to wrench itself back, blood pouring from the wound in its gut, hooves stomping in frustration.
Then Mira fired.
One snap of the string — no call, no warning.
The arrow struck the centaur just beneath the eye, punching deep into the skull. Its head jerked violently, then sagged. Its whole body went limp in the passage, blocking the gap like a cork in a bottle.
It didn't even collapse — it simply slumped, suspended in stone.
Silence returned like a gasp held too long.
Jace was already moving. He struck a fresh torch, the flame blooming in the dark like a second breath, then rushed to Sarah's side.
She was trying to push herself up with one hand, her sword still clutched in the other. Blood streaked down from her temple, matting her hair, dripping into her eye.
"Stay down," Jace muttered, kneeling beside her.
"I'm fine," Sarah hissed, which was a lie.
"You're not," he said, grabbing her under the arm. "But I've seen you worse."
"Not true," she muttered.
Jace gritted his teeth. "Shut up and let me help you," he hissed.
Behind them, the centaur's body twitched once — just a spasm, a final reflex. Mira didn't flinch. She kept her bow up, eyes locked on the corpse like it still might lurch forward.
Theo stood firm, shield braced against the slumped mass of muscle and armor. But after a few seconds, he exhaled, realizing it was well and truly dead. He stepped forward, grabbing the torch still burning near the centaur's side.
Then he started checking the body — armor, weapons, anything of use.
Behind him, Sarah groaned as she sat up, one hand to her head. "Damn," she muttered. "That was a hit."
Jace steadied her with a hand under her arm.
"You weren't lying about how big they were," Sarah muttered, blood still trickling into her eyebrow.
"They only look bigger when they backhand you into a wall," Jace said, crouched beside her.
Mira smiled for half a second — then smacked him upside the head. "Not the time for jokes! We don't have any healing potions."
Jace hissed back, "Well whose fault is that? You got hurt when we cleared that den before the river crossing — you used our last one!"
"Shut up," Sarah groaned, dragging herself upright. "We can all hear more of them coming."
The cave trembled with movement again — hooves shifting, armor clinking, guttural voices speaking in rough, clipped orders. Some were close. Others still echoed further back. But there was no mistaking it: the centaurs were gathering.
Jace stood, blades in hand. "They're stacking up on the other side of the body."
Mira was already resetting her bowstring, sliding behind her ledge again. "They're not stupid. They know we're here now."
Theo stepped up to the corpse in the cleft, pressing one hand to the edge of its armor. "If they try to drag him out…"
"Then we hit them," Sarah said, limping back into position beside him. She reset her grip on her sword. "We can't let them widen this gap any more."
Jace nodded, falling back into his position behind them. "If even one of the big ones gets through…"
Suddenly, the centaur's corpse was yanked back — violently, like dead weight on a chain. The massive body scraped free of the gap, dragged into darkness.
And behind it — more of them.
A half-dozen centaurs filled the tight space beyond, torchlight bouncing off armor and muscle. One of them stepped forward — tall, broad, wielding a massive bow nearly the size of a man.
Before anyone could react, the centaur nocked, drew, and fired in a single motion.
The arrow screamed through the air.
Sarah saw it in slow motion — the way the bow curved, the twang of the string, the arrow's shaft slicing forward like a black streak in firelight. The tip struck Theo's shield and punched through it without slowing, driving straight into his chest behind it.
The shield splintered with a crack — the force of the arrow pinning it to Theo's body. He staggered, no sound coming out, legs folding beneath him.
"Theo!" Mira shouted, already loosing a retaliatory shot — but the archer had already disappeared, ducking behind a shield.
Theo dropped.
Sarah was already moving.
Her perk ignited, body accelerating before her thoughts could keep up. The cave blurred around her. In a blink, she was there — just as Theo collapsed with a strangled scream. She caught him under the arms, staggering back under his weight.
Jace rushed forward, grabbing Theo's torso from her as Mira continued firing into the gap.
"They're trying to push through!" Jace yelled. "They're moving!"
The centaurs surged forward. Another tried to squeeze into the narrow cleft, using the opening cleared by the corpse. The archer was blocked for now, but the others weren't hesitating.
Mira kept firing.
Arrow after arrow hissed through the narrow space, each shot forcing the centaurs to flinch back or duck. She wasn't aiming to kill now — she was buying seconds, burning arrows to keep the enemy from getting a clean angle.
Sarah was still kneeling, sword in one hand, the other pressed against Theo's chest, shaking. She stared at the arrow. At the shield still pinned into his ribs.
Jace grabbed her shoulder. "Sarah. He's not gone. But he will be if we stay here."
She didn't move.
"Look at me."
She turned her head, just barely. Her face was pale, blood still slicking her temple.
"You can't hold this without him," Jace said. "You have to move. Help me get him out of here."
Then—
"Fall back!" Mira's voice rang out through the tunnel, sharper than steel. Something in it cracked open the world.
Sarah felt it — like someone driving breath back into her lungs. Jace blinked in surprise. His arms suddenly felt lighter, movements cleaner. His grip tightened around Theo without effort.
Mira's perk had triggered — a battlefield command effect that spread like a pulse through their bodies. Strength, resolve, clarity.
Sarah surged to her feet, gripping Theo's legs.
Jace took the upper half, and together they moved.
Mira fired again. Then again. The last arrow thudded into the wall beside a centaur's head, and they hissed, drawing back.
Sarah grabbed the looted torch from where Theo had dropped it earlier, the flame guttering low, and turned into the tunnel.
"Move!" she shouted. "Go deeper!"
They ran.
The torch lit uneven stone ahead, the passage bending tighter, darker. Behind them, the centaurs regrouped, howling in frustration. The voices already sounded like they were trying to get their miners up to the gap.
They moved as fast as they could, half-carrying, half-dragging Theo through the narrowing tunnel. The torch Sarah had grabbed threw long, trembling shadows along the walls. Every few steps, they staggered under Theo's weight.
"Set him down," Jace finally said, breath hitching. "Quick — I need to see how bad it is."
They knelt in a wider patch of stone. Mira dropped beside them and pulled a cloth from her pouch.
The arrow had punched clean through. The tip was visible on Theo's back, slick with blood, but not broken. The shaft had gone straight through ribs and out again. No gurgling breath. No pink foam. No arterial spray.
Mira's eyes went wide. "It missed the lung. And the heart. Somehow."
"The shield took most of it," Jace muttered, tearing a strip of cloth and pressing it against the exit wound. "He's bleeding, but not fast. It's almost like the arrow itself's holding him together."
"Don't pull it," Sarah said immediately.
"I wasn't going to." Jace retorted quickly
Theo groaned, face twisted in pain. "Still here," he muttered weakly. "Appreciate all the… support…"
"Shut up," Mira said softly, but she was already tying the cloth around his chest, tightening the wrap beneath the shield. "Try not to move. At all."
They lifted him again — slower now, but steady.
The cave began to descend.
Not steeply, but enough to feel it in their knees, their calves, the way loose stones shifted underfoot. It curved once, then again. The walls grew wetter and more slick. The air heavier.
Then they saw it.
The tunnel dropped off abruptly into a hole in the stone floor — maybe six feet wide. A vertical shaft straight down into darkness. And yet… it wasn't pitch black.
A faint light shimmered up from below, pale blue and oddly still. The shape of the chamber below was unclear, but at its center: water. They saw no waves and no other signs of life.
Jace knelt by the edge, holding the torch out over the hole. "I can't see the bottom. But it's there. Looks… deep."
"I don't hear a current," Mira said. "Still water. No wind either. No voices."
Behind them, a distant crash echoed through the tunnel — rock slamming against rock, something massive shifting.
The centaurs were coming.
Sarah backed a few steps from the edge, torch held high, and glanced behind them.
The tunnel twisted off into shadow, but the sounds were clear now — stone scraping, hooves thudding, metal ringing off rock. The centaurs were close. Too organized, they were methodical and that breach they conducted was planned.
She looked at the narrowing path behind them — no good angles, no cover, no traps.
They'd never hold here. Even the troll hadn't been like this. That had been a brute fight, sure, but it was stupid. This? This was coordinated.
"They're better than anything we've fought," she said aloud. "Even the troll."
Mira didn't argue. She just stared at the glowing water below.
"We have to jump," she said.
Theo blinked at the hole. "Gods," he muttered. "This is gonna suck."
Jace snorted, still catching his breath. "I'll catch you."
Sarah didn't move.
"We don't know what's down there," she said, voice low.
Mira gave a wild little laugh — not amused, just done.
"If this were one of those stories," she said, "all dramatic and super cliché, the damn Thresher King would be down there waiting."
Jace froze mid-breath. "You didn't—"
Then he groaned and cursed. "Sarah jinxed us, remember."
"It's definitely down there," he added. "We're definitely gonna die."
Behind them, the tunnel roared again with the sound of crumbling stone and a series of rapid hoof beats.