I noticed the light first.
A faint glow ahead, cutting through the dense dark of the cavern. I moved toward it slowly, every sense straining, expecting another beast.
Instead, the air changed.
It grew cool. Fresh. It carried the scent of damp soil and living things.
The light widened as I approached. The rough stone walls curved away, and I realized I was standing in the mouth of a cave.
I stepped out.
A forest surrounded the opening, ancient and thick, branches woven together to block most of the sky. I hadn't walked far when I noticed a thin column of smoke rising between the distant trunks.
I followed it.
Four people were huddled around a small campfire in a clearing. They wore practical, worn gear, and weapons lay within easy reach.
The moment a twig snapped under my foot, they were on their feet, blades and a drawn bow pointing at me.
"Stop right there," a man with a sword commanded, his voice low and edged.
"I'm human," I said, raising my empty hands. "I just came out of that cave."
Their eyes flicked past me to the dark opening, then back to my face, assessing.
One of them, a younger man with a spear, asked, "What did you run into in there?"
"I'm not sure what it was," I answered truthfully. "Some kind of beast. Dark. Fast. It moved wrong."
They exchanged a series of quick, loaded glances.
"Sounds like a shadow-stalker," the woman with the bow said, her voice taut.
The swordsman's frown deepened. "Then how did you survive without a weapon?"
I hesitated. The truth was too strange. "It chased me. It fell. The floor gave way beneath it."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The crackle of the fire was the only sound.
"That shouldn't happen," the spearman finally muttered.
"Those things are tied to the dungeon's pulse," the woman added, her eyes not leaving mine. "They sense the traps. They avoid them."
"I don't know why it worked," I said. "It just did."
They looked at me differently then. Not with hostility, but with a wary, calculating curiosity.
After a tense pause, the swordsman gave a slow nod, and they lowered their weapons.
"Sit," the woman said, her tone slightly less guarded. "You look like you haven't eaten in a cycle."
They passed me a strip of dried meat. I took it and ate, the flavor smoky and stark.
As the silence stretched, I asked the question burning in my chest. "What is this place?"
The swordsman poked the fire with a stick. "A gathering point. A trap. A fresh start. Depends on who you ask. People get pulled here from different worlds. Usually dropped right into the deep end."
"Some swim," another added quietly.
"Most drown," the woman finished.
"And how do you swim?" I asked.
"You learn fast," she said. "Or you get lucky."
She tossed a piece of bark into the flames. "Most who arrive get something to help them. A foundation."
"Something?"
"A status. Skills," she said, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.
I didn't understand, but I held onto the words.
A low, guttural growl ripped through the stillness of the clearing.
"Wolf," the swordsman said, already moving.
A large, gray wolf burst from the treeline, saliva dripping from its jaws, eyes fixed on our group.
They reacted as one seamless unit.
The swordsman stepped forward, but the woman was faster. She raised her hand, not in a throw, but a sharp, slicing motion. The air in front of her *rippled*. A sharp, invisible gust tore across the clearing and sliced across the wolf's flank, shearing fur and skin. The beast yelped, thrown off balance.
*Wind. Not pushed. Cut.*
My breath caught in my throat.
So that was a skill.
The others closed in, and it was over quickly. The wolf fell.
Then, a faint, silver glow began to rise from its body, coalescing into a soft orb of light.
And that was the first time I saw the light leave a creature, seeking, and then disappear into the people who had killed it. A silent, radiant feast.