Darkness pressed in around him, the glow in his eyes pushed back the fog, reaching his fingertips. The cavern, once familiar, stretched out in oppressive voids, its vastness unbecoming for its previous function. This did not belong to one of the many unexplored caverns of the underground frontier. Just days ago, a dozen collectors had walked these dry, cavernous passages, living in their modest caves without fear. Botuk had wandered here as well, as a guest of its residents, or on his mental-mapping expeditions, having traced the contours of its every corner.

  He had known this place — each crack in the walls, each slight bend of the winding paths. But now, without the reflective gleam of the mirror, the cavern felt alien, its once comforting familiarity slipping away, like sand through his fingers — like his inner flame.

  Botuk ran his palm along the left wall, turning a corner as he re-mapped the cavern. Why are there corners? he thought. This cavern was a straight shot, front and back. The only detours were personal caves and crevices no one can fit through. What is this?!

  A flash into the liminal shook him as the fatigue took its toll. Black fog turned white, yet even still he saw no signs of a creature. He wanted to take his time mapping these shifting caverns, but the bells of urgency rang. Once he found a creature, he doubted it would part with its Inner Fire without violence. He needed to fight before the lethargy rendered him incapable.

  Just as he turned another corner, and into an open clearing, he left the liminal, and colours — even through the darkness — returned. Was that seconds or minutes? Botuk couldn't tell, nor did he care, because during the liminal, a glimpse of orange light in his periphery brought hope.

  He willed his heavy limbs into action, striding into the clearing, winding through stalagnates, those narrow and thick. The orange light left with the liminal, but its position never left his mind. It brought him out of the clearing and back into narrow passages. Each step brought purpose, clomping through the dirt, bringing tremors.

  Tremors? Botuk slowed, affirming his senses. Every few seconds, something shook the earth. There, another. The quivers rattled his bones. Because of it, he removed his palm from the wall, though his legs had to bear its full brunt. The life-waning fatigue and relentless tremors made each step forward feel harder to take. Yet Botuk pushed on, ending up before a dip in the ground.

  The orange light was right here. Botuk stood on the edge, the cavern floor plummeted before him. He clung to the wall with both hands, fearing the tremors would push him down — the tremors that originated from down below.

  Botuk scanned the scenery, but only darkness met him, his arm-length sight not allowing him to peer further. More shaking loosened some dirt and rocks into the pit, crashing into the bottom with an echo. Less than two seconds, he counted. The fall would be fatal for a normal human, but he thought, with his newfound strength, he would survive.

  No more hesitation. His palms released their grip, and with the next tremor, slid into the pit, landing onto stone below with the reflexes of one prepared for an ambush. Yet only the musk of lathered fur greeted him, and a moist, warm breath washed over his face.

  Botuk faced the source of the commotion. Even with the limitations of his vision, he could see the hulking form. The monster made its own light. A purple bioluminescent organ from the creature’s belly illuminated its four legs. Exposed ribs moved independently, cradling the organ, skittering like insect limbs, shading the cavern from the purple glow. Though at this distance, Botuk saw everything. Dark brown fur wrapped around its upper form. Matted and excreting foam, the fur extended down and over its small hooved hind legs. The forelegs, massive keratin constructs, smooth and devoid of fur, ended in wide hooves that smashed the dirt beneath.

  Dust from the creature’s stomping filled the stagnant air, stinging Botuk’s eyes. Though since its hollow face crept towards him, he didn’t dare to relieve them. The slide sent him sprawling onto his back, and quick reflexes twisted him onto his knee where one foot held firm against the ground to prepare a direct attack. Though with the muscled mass towering before him and foul breath assaulting his olfactory, Botuk lunged sideways, creating distance away from the foul creature.

  It apparently took offense to Botuk’s retreat, stomping its giant front hooves at his previous location, denting the solid stone like mud. The impact shook the cavern — it shook him. The monster tilted its head and body upwards in a howl, but as its hollow face showed no discernible orifices, only the sound of flapping flesh resounded.

  Here it comes. He readied for the attack as what remained of his Inner Fire flared and pulsed, making his skin glow with a golden light. A boxer’s stance hid the burden he felt on his spirit. Before, the Inner Fire drain on his source-flame remained minimal. Now, stacked with the meta-physical injury siphoning his life, he felt the strain. This fight must be quick and decisive, should Botuk want more than a pyrrhic victory.

  “Hello! I don't want to fight,” he said, hoping to disarm the creature. “I’m sorry for intruding on your… uhh place. Let’s talk about it.” Conflict seemed inevitable, but a distracted opponent could allow him the first strike. And strike he did.

  Botuk had no weapons — he collected sand, not enemies — so his clumsy attempt at a punch struck only air, grazing the creature’s moist fur as it rotated to dodge. Now, as it faced Botuk head on, it charged without warning. Mass takes time to build momentum, so the speed of the charge surprised him. The slam launched him away with a ringing in his ears, as if hit by a wall of iron, sliding him to the ground.

  With a twist of his body, he landed on his palms and feet, golden skin absorbing the impact, invalidating cuts and bruises. None? Hah, no damage! Botuk relished his constitution and dexterity. Brushing off the impact gave him confidence as he lunged in for more.

  The next fist landed on the hard keratin foreleg. Ouch! Exchanging one ineffective attack for another before the creature retaliated.

  It stood on its hind legs, then smashing down onto him. He jumped back in instinct, just missing the slam, but the seismic shake that followed knocked him off his feet. Faster than its hulking body should manage, the creature barrelled after Botuk. He rolled out of another ground slam, using the rebound to stand. Again, the creature slammed, and again he dodged.

  Never get hit by that. Got it. The attacks transformed the terrain, flinging shards of rock and leaving craters on the stone.

  The next pound came fast — this relentless beast — but he stood ready. Botuk swung around its body, only swaying from the tremor, kicking at its small hind legs. The monster keeled before righting itself, leaving sounds of flapping in its wake. He grinned. Balance is the key.

  Though at the moment, he just made it angrier. As more ground slams targeted him in succession, and with him dodging and attacking the hind legs, he felt tired, yet the creature showed no signs of fatigue. Botuk needed to time his next attacks perfectly — not just react.

  So he anticipated. Dodging the future attack before it wound up. Just as its front legs lifted to the highest point, he struck the hind legs. One gold-infused kick in one and a punch in another. The creature buckled from its own weight, tipping back into a fall, exposing the white ribs and the purple organ at its centre.

  Although Botuk had never seen this creature, he felt comfortable in assigning the purple mass as its weakness. So with the tumble, he went for it, aiming to crush the flesh.

  As if sentient, a crescent bone swatted his hand while the others cradled the organ tighter. He tried a feign, punching the left while his dominant arm reached to the right. But a swipe of a rib met him. Its sharp point sliced his arm, then pivoted into a lunge of its sword-like tip at his chest. That thing attacks? The thought barely finished before he pushed on its fur, using the momentum to get away.

  A sharp pain brought his attention to his upper-left torso, where a puncture bored its way to his own rib. In a contest between ribs, Botuk knew he wouldn't win.

  Damn, I should have brought a bow, or spear. Not that normal weapons could pierce this creature’s flesh. He fought as nothing more than a disposed acolyte. The Overseer and the real acolytes could make walls of heated wind and control fire. Botuk just knew how to punch. This match had him at a disadvantage.

  Just as he readied for another attack, his vision lost colour, shifting him into the liminal. Adrenaline suppressed the lethargy that rose as black and white reversed, while everything else turned grey. In the liminal, the creature burned with flame. Unlike the many-faced creature he fought, every fibre of this monster's muscles had embers flowing through it which originated from a hearth in the protected organ. Each pulse of its flame swirled, then sucked into streams flowing through its body, as though flesh commanded the source.

  As he observed, the creature righted itself. It abandoned its previous tactic and attacked Botuk with its ribs, slicing the air as it charged. He avoided the slices, but a glancing hit at his legs spun him around. This can’t go on, I'm barely annoying it. He needed to change. Higher risk, higher reward!

  A plan formed by the minute.

  Botuk charged at the creature instead. Between the oversized front legs and into the range of the ribs. His right hand reached for the organ while the other fended off retaliatory slices. Yes, it fell for it! He pivoted his right hand, holding onto the spearing rib, wrapping his entire arm around it. Now with the rib immobile, the left hand became free to poke through the space it uncovered. His fingers scratched the glowing organ before embers rushed into another rib, startling it into sentience. It writhed like an insect, then motioned to stab Botuk’s lower torso.

  At this distance, whether he saw it didn’t matter. The strike pierced his skin and muscles all the way through. Air escaped his lungs. Though a last second twist made the bone struck his sides. He resigned himself to the hope that it missed his vitals. More bones pierced his torso, leaving him stuck to the creature. Blood dripped out of his wounds. But a smile bore on his face.

  The trap had sprung. The more bones that attacked him, the less they protected the organ. His right hand released its hold, then joined the other as both dug into the organ. The ribs tried pushing him back, but with his firm grip on the organ, only thrashing followed. The creature howled, flapping the skin over its face as Botuk tore open the organ. Since, he remained in the liminal, so he saw Inner Fire within.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Aiming for the flame, his face lunged towards it — pushing the ribs in deeper. He bit the organ, then again, until his mouth filled with juicy flesh and lungs gasped for air. The first swallow brought bliss. Pungent blood tasted like nectar to his lethargic spirit. Slowly, his wounds itched, then closed. The organ bled fire right into his mouth, sinking down his throat and merging with his inner flame.

  The towering creature thrashed and struggled, trying to throw him off the delicate flesh. Its ribs wriggled to rid him, but had stabbed too deep to get free. With each swallow, its muscles shrank. Inner Fire from its extremities returned to the source, prolonging its life for a few seconds longer. Botuk felt the ribs lose strength as its body buckled from weakened legs. Only thick forelegs held it upright, preventing the body from crushing him. The ribs wriggled to a still as his hands clutched the organ — the only thing keeping him from falling.

  So good! I’d trade … every pocket of sand for more of this. More… He burped.

  Colour flickered back in flashes. The orange organ flashed a disgusting purple, then back. He knew his wounds were healing. Through blood coated eyelids, he looked at his doing, ignoring the stinging fluids entering his eyes. The orange — now grey — organ lost its luster, its embers eaten and fused within him. Botuk had never felt so full, as if his stomach might burst through its lining.

  Satisfied, he glanced down at his Inner Fire. When dying, he saw a collection of embers. Now, the flames crashed into invisible walls, seeking to breach out of its container. This barrier stretched and rebounded like fresh hide, sealing the Inner Fire except through the pinprick at its bottom. This marked the first time he clearly saw the injury the many-faced monster inflicted on him. Embers trickled out of the tiny opening. His life dripped away — and at this rate, he had less than two days before it emptied.

  A problem for tomorrow, he thought. Today it’s time to sleep. Fatigue caught up to him, not from his waning life, but from raw exhaustion.

  The next day began just as bad. He regretted tiring so easily yesterday, as this time, the lethargy started in his sleep, forcing to wake even through his sleep-deprived headache. The mat and walls remained in colour, but he knew that would change.

  No gongs this time and, he checked, no errant collectors walking outside his cave. Apparently, he slept in. It had been two days since he ate proper food, or drank clean water, yet he felt no mundane hunger. Perhaps eating the monster’s innards filled him, or perhaps with his ascension to acolyte-hood, he only needed Inner Fire.

  At least I don’t have to steal somebody else’s rations. A cough rid him of his morning phlegm. Off to a dark crevice with you.

  Yesterday, he learned a few things. One should never underestimate the creatures of the dark, especially when they were hulking monsters many times his size. And second, the darkness made its own paths. If a simple, cavernous corridor could transform into a labyrinth, then what could a darkened crevice lead to?

  He located a crevice with ease, one that fit his body. A squeeze and a shimmy led him through into a less claustrophobic cavern. Hypothesise, then test, Botuk smirked.

  For this expedition, more caution proved necessary. He needed to profit on Inner Fire, breaking even didn't suffice. The plan involved more than just confronting the first monster he came across; he must choose his battles. Something more his size.

  The pitter-patter of dripping water from the ceiling echoed through the cavern. Strange for this close to the surface, though in this darkness, he did not dare question the labyrinth. Up or down, shallow or deep, it didn't matter. Botuk let the water cupped into his palm, smelling and rubbing it between his fingers before tasting the liquid. The cool water wetted his parched lips. Just normal water, he thought. Relieved at it not being some monster excrement, his next gulp came more relaxed. He didn't need it, but he’d drink the refreshing water whenever he could.

  With lethargy building, he wasted no more time. At an intersection, he felt a rumbling from his left. Botuk went right. When howls and deep murmurs drew closer, he chose another path. No more fighting, no struggle. He came here to hunt.

  Something small, something easy. Like the snake-like creature he once saw. Maybe it had siblings.

  Hours passed, and still he found nothing. He thought about the problem that raked his mind. When does this grey realm start? He felt himself weakening, but until now, the liminal evaded him. Before, he had found the hulking monster through the liminal, following the light of its inner flame. Although he wanted to find a creature before he got that weak, the further along the labyrinth he went, the more impossible it felt.

  Even tremors and howls disappeared, he thought, as he passed another giant boulder. There must be something here. For an hour now, he felt a prickling sensation from the back of his neck. Sweat ran down his back, even while his breath condensed in the air. The heat he emanated from his ochre skin didn't stop him from shivering. He turned a corner, and another boulder marked his path. Is that the same boulder or am I hallucinating? Another corner and the same boulder met his gaze.

  The boulder looked uneventful, if not for the large crack on its surface. Some parts smooth and others craggy, in different times, he wouldn't turn twice passing it by. He picked up a rock and threw it at the boulder, watching as it bounced off with a clink. Just a rock? If this was the monster, he had to confirm it.

  Botuk went closer, wishing he succeeded in fashioning a spear or some other long ranged weapon. Though it proved hard, with no access to wood. Trees didn’t grow in his canyon. Merchant caravans imported every plank and log they had. And metalwork eluded him. A dozen more rocks hit the boulder, either bouncing off or getting stuck in the large crack. Nothing he had done explained the boulder as anything more than a normal rock. Even staring into it brought him no appetite.

  Confusion and curiosity beckoned him closer, urging him to move within reach to examine the stone's surface. He caressed the surface, feeling the rounded edges before moving to the prominent crack that split the boulder horizontally. Ouch! His hand recoiled from the lip. Sharp as a blade, it could almost draw blood, if not for his ochre complexion. He tested it more, rubbing his forearm hard on the jagged lip. But other than wincing and a feeling of rawness. It didn't damage his skin.

  He shrugged, then inserted his entire arm into the crack. Shocked that nothing stopped him as he pushed up to his shoulders. Even waving the arm in circles, he hit nothing. Bringing the arm back also brought no changes. No bruises on the flawless ochre skin. It looked undamaged in every way.

  I guess it's time to escalate. He placed large stones at the base of the boulder and used them to climb into the crack. Annoyed at his white robes tearing, he paused, only to remove his top and try again. The lip scraped at his naked skin as he crawled in.

  The hollow interior looked similar to the outside, brown, grey stone interrupted by veins of colour. Further in, it dropped downwards, as if it wanted him to fall in. Though Botuk proved too big for that, he reached the bottom just as the lip scraped his knees. There, a shining liquid pooled, reflecting the light from his skin. Clear as water and smelled of damp. He scanned around, looking for the rocks he threw in before, though only the puddle met his gaze.

  Good practice would be to exit the boulder and grab another rock, but until now, he felt no threat. So he scooped the liquid in his hand. There it is. That's what I’m searching for. His fingers broke the liquid’s thick film, revealing a viscous green gel smelling of honey. Now his appetite tickled. Undeterred by the slimy film, he dipped his palm in the gel, bringing a handful of the liquid to his lips, drinking it with vigour.

  Is this my life now, gulping unknown liquids like a man dying of thirst? He paused his thoughts. Well, I’m not thirsty, but I am dying. Finishing the gulp, he sighed. I shouldn't be complaining; this green gel is better than that purple organ any day. Not fighting anything for this meal is also good—oh now come on!

  It seemed he spoke too soon as the boulder trembled, shaking pebbles and loose dirt off the inside walls. Ouch! Again? The crack shut over his knees, digging its sharp lips into his joint. However, the grip proved unable to pierce or crush his legs, merely trapping him in its maw. Rumble after rumble passed as he struggled to free his legs, but other than bits of dirt in his eyes, he didn’t feel danger. Is this it? Am I too big for this rock to eat? He halted his struggle, waiting for the boulder to change, transform, or do anything different. Yet he received just more rumblings. Huh, maybe my luck is getting better.

  With his safety confirmed, he continued scooping the gel to his lips, ignoring the shuddering disagreement from the boulder-like creature. It being a shallow pool, he could see the stone bottom after a few minutes. Inner Fire from the gel merged into his source, filling up the container. He remained out of the liminal, so he couldn't check, but he felt the vessel stretch to its brim. Satisfied with the score, he turned his attention to escape.

  Unlike the hulking beast, this creature didn’t keel over once he took its inner flame. Perhaps the boulder had another source of flame under the solid rock and the pool served as bait. If true, then I’m sure it regretted choosing me. Ochre skin turned gold as he prepared his escape. Using his arms, he pushed the ground, sliding out of its hold even as the sharp maw held tighter. The head proved more difficult with it clamping on his neck, but leverage from both his arms managed to open the maw.

  Now, outside that creature, he felt as if a layer of skin had come off. With a hand, he lapped up the liquid dripping off his chin, licking his palms and fingers. Well, easier than I thought.

  Weeks came and went, as every day Botuk left the safety of his cave to hunt in the darkness. The monsters he encountered, and his wit in defeating them, decided whether his life waxed and waned. Once or twice he wanted to give up, but every time the six-month deadline brought him hope. There were close calls with him revealing his identity, though as far as he knew, everyone thought Botuk remained in the lower caverns — except Rita — who thought he had left.

  Best not to dissuade her of that notion, lest she attracts more trouble from me. If she followed my advice, she would also be lying low. And in six months, we can meet in the caravan. Though he tried not to think of it. What a hassle it would be, explaining what I’ve become — a beast struggling at death’s door.

  He also discovered something life changing. His time between feeding had increased to three days. It meant that, until the third day, he didn’t feel lethargic. He didn't know how this happened, but he had some ideas, though for now, unwilling to test them. Let’s not make an experiment out of my life, he thought. Not while doing the same thing still offered results.

  It gave him time to plan his encounters. With him, a spear he crafted out of copper hand mirrors he stole from other collector’s caves. One, he bent into a sharpened point and the rest, he rolled into a shaft. The spear added just another arm-length to his reach, not perfect, but until he could swipe more copper mirrors, it would do.

  This explained the reason he stalked these residential caverns. Waiting for an opportunity to slip inside a cave, grab what he needed, and slip out. He reached the end of the corridor, the final cave before a dead end. Was this cave even inhabited? Although he knew of these caverns, whether a collector or another role lived in a specific cave within the last few weeks, he couldn't recall.

  No curtains hung at the entrance, so he took a glance into the cave. There, his eyes met another’s. Their lips grinned with mirth as shock riveted Botuk’s gaze to the being.

  “Hello Botuk, what an adventure you had!” a feminine voice rang out of the cave.

  “Rita?” he whispered back, unwrapping his double-veil to see her clearer.

  “Come now Botuk, give your close friend a hug!” she said, disregarding his whispers. Rita smiled at his astonished face.

  This interaction felt wrong. His face had turned pale, no longer the deep black hue it once held. Yet, no comment came from her, no acknowledgment of his changes — as if she knew all along. But how could she?

  “Rita, is that you?” he asked.