The Last Nightmare

The fire had burned low, its once-bright flames now reduced to a slow, pulsing glow. Shadows flickered along the cavern walls, twisting and stretching with every uncertain movement of the embers. The heat barely reached beyond the firepit now, leaving the cavern's edges cool and damp.

But for the first time since joining them, Nate didn't feel like an outsider.

The weight of the day still pressed on them all, exhaustion woven into the silence. Yet, it wasn't the brittle quiet of distrust or wariness. It was something… steadier. A pause, a breath before whatever came next.

Across from him, Darius sat with his axe resting against his knee, absently running a whetstone along its blade. The rhythmic scrape filled the cavern, almost comforting in its constancy. His dark, unkempt hair fell into his eyes, but his smirk remained, ever-present even in moments like these.

Kai leaned against the cavern wall, one leg bent, the other stretched out in front of him. His dagger spun between his fingers with effortless precision, catching the firelight in brief, glinting flashes. His golden eyes, sharp as ever, flicked over the group, calculating, watching. He always seemed to be measuring something unseen.

Elena sat closer to the fire, stirring the remnants of the stew with a wooden spoon. She hadn't eaten much herself. The faint furrow between her brows hinted at thoughts left unsaid.

It was a strange kind of quiet—not awkward, not empty. Just… settled.

Nate let his gaze drift over them, a tight feeling pressing against his ribs.

They were talking to him. Trusting him.

And for the first time in a long while, he clenched his fist, holding onto the warmth spreading through his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, he was part of something.

Darius broke the silence with a dramatic sigh, dropping his axe into his lap.

"Alright, kid. Now that you're officially part of this mess, we should establish something important."

Nate frowned, looking up. "What?"

A wicked grin spread across Darius's face. "You're the youngest. Which means you're the little brother now."

Nate scowled. "That's—"

"Hey, hey," Darius interrupted, waving his axe like a scepter. "I don't make the rules."

Elena smirked, hiding her amusement behind the rim of her bowl. "But you enforce them, apparently."

"Damn right." Darius pointed his axe at Nate as if bestowing some grand, unwanted title. "From now on, you're 'Kid' or 'Rookie.' No exceptions."

Nate rolled his eyes. "You do realize I'm probably not that much younger than you?"

Darius gasped in mock outrage. "Blasphemy."

Elena chuckled, shaking her head. "Ignore him."

Kai, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "If we're done wasting time…" His golden eyes settled on Nate, sharp as ever. "You have questions, don't you?"

Nate hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. About… the Awakened."

The atmosphere shifted.

Darius's grin faded. Elena's expression turned thoughtful. Even Kai, usually unreadable, went still.

The Awakened. The monsters walking among men.

The people who had cleared the First Nightmare—and were never the same afterward.

"They aren't normal," Kai said at last. His voice was quiet, but it carried weight. "The moment someone survives the First Nightmare… something inside them changes."

"Changes how?" Nate asked.

Elena exhaled softly. "It depends. Some people gain strength, some gain abilities. But it's not just that."

Kai tapped his temple. "Their minds aren't the same. Their instincts sharpen, their perception shifts. They become something more… or less."

Darius leaned forward, eyes darkening. "They say the First Nightmare changes from person to person . You either break… or come out of it stronger."

Nate swallowed.

His greatest fear.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was.

"So that Awakened leader…" He hesitated. "He survived his own Nightmare?"

Kai nodded. "And he didn't just survive. He embraced it."

A shiver ran down Nate's spine.

The leader of the Bloodhounds—Brennan Wolfe. A man wreathed in flame, wielding fire like a god's wrath. He hadn't just thrown fire; he had shaped it, bent it to his will, turned the very air into an inferno.

And they had barely escaped.

"We were lucky," Elena admitted, her voice quieter now. "That time."

Darius smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "But luck runs out."

The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken.

What would they do? Could they even fight someone like that?

Kai exhaled, breaking the silence. "We need a plan."

"The bastard's still out there," Darius muttered. "Which means sooner or later, he's coming for us."

Elena crossed her arms. "So we move first."

Kai shot her a sharp look. "No."

She raised an eyebrow. "You have a better idea?"

"Yes. We don't fight unless we have to."

Darius scoffed. "I don't know if you've noticed, but running hasn't exactly worked out for us so far."

"I'm not saying we run." Kai's voice was calm, measured. "I'm saying we get stronger."

Silence.

Nate looked between them. "How?"

Kai's gaze flickered to him, unreadable.

"We figure it out," he said. "One way or another, we become strong enough to survive."

Darius snorted, shaking his head. But beneath the usual humor, there was something firm, something resolved. "Well, shit. When you put it like that…"

Elena nodded. "We'll need to train. We can't just rely on luck anymore."

Darius leaned back, stretching. "Guess that means no more easy days."

Kai's expression hardened. "There were never any easy days."

Nate stayed quiet, his fingers curling into a fist.

They wanted to get stronger. To fight back.

For the first time, he realized—he wanted that too.

Not just to survive.

But to win.

That night, long after the others had fallen asleep, Nate sat alone by the dying embers of the fire. The cavern was silent now, the occasional drip of water echoing from somewhere deep within.

A torn piece of parchment lay in his hands.

He hadn't written a letter in years.

But now, the words burned inside him, desperate to be let out.

Dear Lyra,

I hope you're safe. I hope Dad is working hard. I hope Mom is… still okay.

He swallowed, his grip tightening around the parchment.

I don't know when I'll be home. But I promise you—I will come back.

I won't let Mom die. I won't let our family fall apart.

His fingers trembled slightly as he wrote the last line.

I'll make sure we have a future.

He exhaled slowly, staring at the words.

Then, carefully, he folded the letter and tucked it into his coat.

He knew it would never reach them.

But still…

Somehow, writing it made him feel closer to home.

And maybe, just maybe—it gave him the strength to keep fighting.