Forge of Fate

Kalem and the other miners marched in uneasy silence toward the darkened tunnels where the Garon was believed to lurk. Their group was a ragtag combination of professional soldiers, conscripted miners, and hastily assembled supplies. While the knights in their polished armor maintained an air of gallantry, the miners knew better. This mission wasn't about honor or valor—it was desperation, plain and simple.

Their task was straightforward in theory but grueling in reality: navigate the labyrinthine tunnels, lead the soldiers to the beast's lair, and manage logistics along the way. But Kalem and the others knew they were expendable. If the Garon attacked, the miners would be the first to fall.

Kalem gripped his spear tightly, his palms slick with sweat. The weapon, one of his own making, felt sturdy in his hands, but it was little comfort. Ahead, the tunnel loomed, its gaping entrance like the mouth of some great beast.

"Stick close," barked the knight leading their group. His voice was firm, but there was an edge of tension that betrayed his nerves.

The miners nodded, their faces grim. Kalem fell toward the back of the group, his heart pounding in his chest. Every step felt heavier as they entered the tunnels, the faint light of the surface fading behind them.

The tunnels were cramped and suffocating. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rusting iron, and the only sounds were the faint echoes of their footsteps and the occasional clatter of loose rocks. Shadows danced across the walls from the flickering torches, their movements almost alive.

Kalem scanned his surroundings, every nerve on edge. He could feel the weight of the mountain pressing down above him, the oppressive darkness threatening to swallow them whole. He had worked in mines before, but this was different. This wasn't just the earth—this was a place tainted by something far more sinister.

"We're getting close," murmured one of the older miners, his voice barely audible.

Kalem's unease deepened. He could feel it too—a growing sense of wrongness, as if the very ground beneath their feet was alive and watching.

The deeper they went, the more the tension in the group grew. Even the knights, with their polished swords and heavy shields, began to glance nervously into the shadows. The air seemed to grow colder, and an eerie silence settled over them.

Then, it happened.

A guttural screech erupted from the depths of the tunnel, a sound so primal and raw that it stopped everyone in their tracks. It was a sound of rage, hunger, and pure malevolence, and it reverberated through the tunnels like a physical force.

Kalem's heart leaped into his throat. Around him, the miners froze, their faces pale with terror. Even the knights faltered, their hands tightening on their weapons.

"What was that?" whispered one of the younger soldiers, his voice trembling.

No one answered.

Then came the sound of movement—heavy, deliberate, and impossibly fast. The ground beneath their feet trembled as something massive approached. The Garon had caught their scent.

"Form up!" shouted the knight commander, his voice sharp with urgency. The soldiers scrambled to obey, raising their shields and leveling their weapons.

The miners, meanwhile, were left to fend for themselves. Kalem gripped his spear tightly, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He could barely see through the chaos, but he could feel the beast's presence, an overwhelming aura of predatory power.

The Garon burst into view, a blur of crimson scales and bony protrusions. It was massive, its body rippling with raw muscle and energy. Its claws gleamed in the torchlight, and its azure eyes burned with an unnatural light.

The beast let out another screech, its tail slamming into the ground with enough force to send a shockwave through the tunnel. The knights braced themselves, but the Garon was too fast. It leaped forward, its claws slicing through the first row of soldiers like paper. Blood sprayed across the walls as the knights were thrown aside like ragdolls.

The miners panicked. Cries of terror filled the air as they turned and fled, their tools and weapons forgotten in their desperation to escape. Kalem hesitated for a split second, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his legs felt rooted to the spot.

The Garon lunged again, its tail swinging like a massive club. It smashed into a group of knights, sending them flying into the walls. The sound of breaking bones echoed through the tunnel, and Kalem felt bile rise in his throat.

"This way!" someone shouted, snapping Kalem out of his daze. He turned and ran, his heart pounding as he joined the stampede of miners and soldiers fleeing for their lives.

The tunnel became a chaotic blur of shouting, screaming, and the deafening roars of the Garon. Kalem pushed himself to keep moving, his lungs burning and his legs threatening to give out.

The exit was close. He could see the faint light of the surface ahead, a small glimmer of hope in the suffocating darkness. But the Garon was still behind them, its roars growing louder as it chased them down.

Kalem stumbled, nearly falling, but managed to catch himself. He didn't dare look back. All that mattered was reaching the light, reaching safety.

When he finally burst out of the tunnel, the fresh air hit him like a wave. He gasped, his body trembling with exhaustion and fear. Around him, others collapsed to the ground, their faces pale and their eyes wide with shock.

But the nightmare wasn't over. The Garon let out one final screech, a sound that echoed across the valley, before retreating back into the darkness.

Kalem dropped to his knees, his spear clattering to the ground beside him. He stared at the tunnel entrance, his mind racing. They had survived, but at what cost?

For the first time since joining the expedition, Kalem felt the weight of his mortality. He had faced death, and though he had escaped, he knew it wouldn't be the last time. The Garon was still out there, waiting in the shadows.

And next time, there might not be an escape.

Sadly, there will be no next time.