Caleb followed closely, his golden eye glinting in the dim light as he scanned their surroundings with practised caution. His instincts, sharpened by years of survival, remained keen even in familiar shadows. As the legend who had braved the twelfth level alone, every step he took was a careful balance of grace and wariness. He observed Celestia as she navigated the path with precision, the poise of someone who had encountered these ancient walls more times than she cared to remember. But the weariness on her face didn’t escape him, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman he had seen the night before.

  His hand rested at his side, ready to draw his blade at a moment’s notice, but he didn’t need to. He glided to her side and spoke softly, careful not to startle her. “Lady Pendragon, I’ll follow your lead, though it’s not usually my way to let others take charge,” he admitted, the respect in his voice accompanied by a faint trace of amusement. “But I trust your experience here. If you need me, I’ll be ready.” His gaze lingered on the jacket still draped over her shoulders, an unspoken question hovering in the air. “Though, my lady, it seems my jacket has found itself a new companion. Do you plan to keep it for the rest of the journey?” His voice held a teasing warmth, the flirtation unmistakable.

  The warmth of his words cut through the chill of the descent, a brief respite from the growing darkness around them. It was a rare glimpse of humour from him, a subtle reminder that no matter the depths of the dungeon, they weren’t entirely alone.

  Celestia glanced up at him, confusion and surprise evident in her expression. Her gaze shifted to the jacket on her shoulders, the unexpected comfort of its weight now apparent to her. A rush of warmth spread through her chest, a feeling long buried beneath the weight of her curse. The sudden realization made her self-conscious, and she halted, her heart quickening with an unfamiliar flutter.

  Frantically, she unfastened her sword and set her backpack aside, eager to return the jacket to him. “I… I’m sorry!” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink. Her pallor betrayed the lingering effects of her curse, but there was a spark in her eyes, an attempt at something that felt almost... playful. “I didn’t realize I was still wearing it,” she muttered, attempting to flirt with him, but her words were clumsy, tangled by the fog of the curse and the growing tension in her mind.

  As she lifted the jacket, the dizziness overcame her in full force. The muffled symptoms of her affliction suddenly gave way to the sharp sting of the curse’s unrelenting grip. The voices in her head grew louder, the whispers and laughter echoing with a maddening, twisted clarity: The hallucinations warped Caleb’s familiar face, twisting it into something dark, something monstrous. The shadows around him danced and shifted, feeding into the illusion. The voices came again, mocking her,

  Staggering, Celestia almost crumpled to the ground, but Caleb moved quickly to steady her, his grip firm but gentle. His presence was grounding, his touch a steadying force in the chaos within her. “Easy now, my lady,” he murmured, his voice soothing as if to remind her that, despite everything, he was there. “I’m here. We’ll get through this together.”

  Celestia, despite herself, felt the warmth of his voice seep into her frazzled thoughts, fighting back the voices that roared in her mind. The past year had been a solitary one—shut off from any deeper connection, hardened by Ryker’s betrayal. His departure had left a wound that Celestia hadn’t been able to heal. His treachery had left her unwilling to trust again, closing her heart off to anyone who might get too close. Yet Caleb... with his unwavering confidence and kindness, a strange yearning flickered within her. Maybe... maybe she could trust again. Maybe she could let someone else in.

  She shook her head, trying to shake off the haze. “You should have your jacket back, my lord,” she whispered, extending it with a quiet gesture, the vulnerability she felt in that moment leaving her breathless. The flutter of something forgotten stirred in her chest, a feeling she thought she had buried long ago.

  Caleb took the jacket from her, his golden gaze never leaving her. He could see the flush on her face, the faint tremor of uncertainty in her eyes. There was a rawness to her, a vulnerability she usually kept hidden beneath layers of strength. The complexities of her emotions were clear to him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to linger in the quiet understanding between them.

  “Lady Pendragon,” he said softly, his voice low with sincerity, “You have an undeniable strength. Even now, despite everything, you press on. That’s something I admire.” His words were genuine, a subtle acknowledgement of the resilience she carried with her, no matter the weight she bore.

  Celestia straightened, securing her sword with a steadier hand and shouldering her pack. A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked at him. “Thank you, Lord Nightglen,” she said with renewed purpose, her voice firmer. With that, she pressed forward, determined to face whatever lay ahead.

  The journey remained quiet as they swiftly passed through the fourth level. As they left the staircase leading towards it, Celestia felt the heavy pull of the dungeon’s magic around them. The air hummed with ancient power, the walls seeming to shift subtly with every step they took. The space ahead opened into a cubic layout, much like the others, but the oppressive stillness of this one was overwhelming. In the centre of the room was a deep, never-ending hole, surrounded by railings that bordered four sides, each leading to endless floors stretching upwards and downwards, lost in shadow. No light reached this place, and the air felt thick as if even breathing was an effort.

  The silence broke when they were met by the Shadow Warriors. They emerged from the flickering shadows, encased in blackness, their eyes glowing a haunting, dark red. Heavy metal armour clanged as they moved, their presence looming ominously. Celestia instinctively drew her sword, but something in the air felt wrong—like an invisible weight pressing against her chest.

  Caleb’s movements were a stark contrast to her hesitation. His golden eye gleamed with cold calculation, his posture unwavering as he stepped forward, drawing his blade in a single fluid motion. The way he stood, poised and confident, made Celestia feel momentarily inadequate.

  The Shadow Warriors lunged at them with practised precision, but Caleb’s responses were faster. His blade sliced through the first warrior’s defence with ease, cutting through the darkness like a knife through silk. His footwork was immaculate, swift and graceful, a dance of precise strikes and calculated blocks. One after another, the warriors fell before him, their forms disintegrating into shadow at the touch of his blade.

  Celestia’s grip tightened on her sword, but her movements felt sluggish. The weight of the dungeon’s magic pressed heavily on her, making it harder to concentrate. Each swing of her blade felt off, as if the very air was resisting her attempts. The shadows around her seemed to twist and deepen, whispering in her ears, pulling at her thoughts. She could hear them, their mocking voices, their laughter, and their promises, all too familiar.

  “You cannot win,” they hissed, their voices seeping into her mind like poison. “You are nothing.”

  A cold sweat broke out across her skin. Her head throbbed painfully, the voices growing louder, more insistent. She staggered, the dizziness overwhelming her senses. Caleb’s voice cut through the haze, firm and commanding.

  “Focus, my lady!” he called, striking down another warrior in a fluid motion. “Stay with me.”

  But even as he spoke, Celestia’s vision blurred. The shadows around her seemed to bend and shift, her perception warping. For a moment, Caleb’s figure twisted, morphing into something darker, more sinister. The hallucination seized her, and her sword fell to the ground with a clatter.

  She gasped, steadying herself with a hand on her knee. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each one more difficult than the last. She could hear Caleb’s voice again, calling out to her, but it felt distant, lost in the storm of her mind.

  Caleb had already moved on to the next warrior, cutting through it with a swift stroke. He was relentless, his movements sharp and efficient, unaffected by the shadowy enemies that surrounded them. The contrast between his confidence and her hesitation made her frustration grow. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t clear the fog clouding her thoughts.

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  The Wraith appeared then, its form emerging from the shadows like a living nightmare. The creature’s immense, shifting shape radiated an eerie, otherworldly chill. Celestia gripped her sword once more, her mind a jumble of thoughts and fear, but the Wraith was unlike any foe she had faced before. Her sword clattered against its shadowy form, rebounding uselessly as if it were nothing more than mist.

  Caleb stood his ground, his eyes narrowing as the Wraith’s red gaze locked onto him. He knew better than to waste time with physical strikes. He stepped back, muttering an incantation under his breath. Arcane energy pulsed from him in a surge, and the Wraith shrieked in agony as the magic hit, flickering and destabilizing its ethereal form.

  Celestia watched as Caleb fought with the Wraith, his focus unbroken. She wanted to help, but each time she tried to move, the dizziness and the relentless voices clouded her mind. The battle felt endless, the creature relentless in its assault. But Caleb, unshaken, pressed on, unleashing spell after spell to weaken the Wraith. His sword flickered, glowing with magic, each strike chipping away at the Wraith’s form until, with one final, powerful blow, the creature was banished into the shadows.

  Breathing heavily, Caleb turned to her, his gaze softening as he took in her pale face. “Are you well, my lady?”

  Celestia could barely answer, her voice a mere whisper. She nodded, though it was clear from the unsteady way she stood that she was far from fine. Her hand trembled slightly as she gripped her sword, still struggling to push through the fog in her mind.

  Caleb studied her carefully, a quiet understanding in his eyes. He didn’t ask any more questions, sensing that her struggles went deeper than what the eye could see.

  They moved on, making a brief stop in the fifth level to restock. The safe zone was a small oasis amidst the chaos, where Celestia took the chance to restock on healing potions and gather the dwindling food supplies. As she rummaged through her pocket, her fingers brushed against the cold surface of her pocket watch. The tick-tock of the watch was a strangely grounding sound, reminding her that time was slipping away. They had spent two days making their way this far, yet the sense of urgency grew stronger, a gnawing feeling that they needed to press on.

  The voices in her head whispered again, but this time, they weren’t as clear. The nagging pull to hurry forward deepened, the quiet panic settling into her chest. Celestia couldn’t explain it, but she felt as though something waited for her just ahead, something that she couldn’t afford to ignore.

  She took a deep breath, forcing the voices and the unease from her mind, and pressed on. There was no turning back now. The faint tremor in her hands, though, betrayed the turmoil swirling inside her. As they moved forward, she could feel the weight of her thoughts pressing down, but she pushed them aside, focusing instead on the path ahead.

  Caleb followed diligently behind her, his gaze flickering frequently as he scanned their surroundings, his sword always at the ready. Every step he took was measured, and deliberate, and his senses seemed as sharp as ever. His confidence was a silent reassurance, though he said nothing as they passed through the dim light of the dungeon’s fifth level.

  When Celestia finished restocking on potions and food, she moved swiftly, her gaze distant as she gathered what they needed. Caleb stepped beside her then, noticing the urgency in her every movement. The sight of her—her armor, her silent resolve—stirred something in him. It was a warmth, one that he hadn’t felt in years, a feeling of something long buried awakening.

  His voice, low and steady, broke the silence between them. “We’ll make it through, Lady Pendragon.” His words weren’t just for reassurance—they were a promise, spoken with the certainty of a man who had seen too much but never given up.

  Celestia gave him a brief glance, a quiet nod, and with that, they both turned toward the dark passage that led to the sixth level.

  As they resumed their journey through the twisting paths of the dungeon, he couldn’t help but admire her focused determination. Her hands rummaged through her pockets, searching for what she needed, and he watched her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Something on your mind?” he asked gently, hoping to draw her out from the shadows of her thoughts.

  Celestia glanced at him, her expression shadowed by the weight of her thoughts. She paused, her fingers stilling as Caleb’s question hung in the air. For a fleeting moment, the warmth of his gaze almost drew her in, but she quickly hardened her heart, diverting her attention back to the darkened path ahead.

  “I’ve been wondering if I’m strong enough to face what lies ahead. This path... it’s laden with shadows I can barely comprehend, echoes of past horrors that claw at the edges of my mind. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just a puppet, dancing on strings I can’t see. With every step, I feel their pull.” Her voice dipped, laced with a bitterness that reflected her turmoil. “You might see someone who can fight, but I’m haunted by what I’ve lost—by the darkness that lingers like a spectre at my side. I question if I’m truly strong enough, or if I’ll lose myself entirely in this struggle. I can’t afford to trust anyone, not even you, My Lord.” She turned away, the flicker of her resolve wavering as memories surged, threatening to engulf her once more.

  Caleb listened intently, every word Celestia spoke reverberating through him, stirring up emotions he rarely let himself feel. Her pain was palpable, each phrase woven with echoes of a past that lingered, unrelenting. He understood her fears and even respected her need to keep her distance, though the pull to reach her was undeniable. The flicker of vulnerability in her eyes was fleeting, but he couldn’t let it go unnoticed.

  He stepped close, just enough for her to sense his presence without overstepping, and reached out slowly, resting his hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension there.

  “My Lady…” Caleb’s voice was steady, his tone blunt and devoid of sentiment. “I know the weight you carry, but strength isn’t about enduring it alone. It’s about knowing when to accept help. And you’re not the only one who’s faced darkness.” His words weren’t comforting—they were firm, the words of someone who had survived because someone had been there to pull him out of his own mess. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

  Celestia’s heart trembled at his words, but it wasn’t because of any comfort they brought. It was a reminder. A reminder of how much she had to lose.

  Her vision swam as the curse began tightening its grip, every word of Caleb’s cutting through the fog, but only deepening the panic inside. She couldn’t trust anyone. Not again.

  She rubbed her temples, trying to fight off the pressure, the creeping sensation that her mind was being torn in two. “You don’t understand, my Lord,” she said, her voice strained, the words slipping out in a rush. “Every time I’ve let someone close, something… takes hold. You don’t know what it’s like. You can’t.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her struggle, his gaze sharpening with the understanding of someone who had walked that dark road. He had lived it—the feeling of losing yourself in something you couldn’t control. But he’d had someone there. Someone who didn’t give up.

  Her skin was pale, veins creeping up her neck, her fingers trembling as the curse took its toll. She was alone. He knew exactly what that felt like.

  His hand, still resting on her shoulder, remained steady as he leaned in just enough to turn her face toward him, not with softness, but with the force of someone trying to make her see something she was shutting out. “This isn’t a dream, My Lady. I’m real. You’re real.” His tone was firm, unwavering. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m telling you—you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t get to drown in this without someone trying to pull you out. Not while I’m here.”

  His thumb brushed her chin, a mechanical gesture, more an anchor than a comfort. He wasn’t trying to soothe her—he was trying to make sure she knew he was there, whether she liked it or not.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not a shadow, My Lady. I’m not a hallucination. I’m here, and I won’t let you sink into that abyss without doing something about it. You’ve already lost too much. You’re not losing any more. Not on my watch.”

  Celestia recoiled, pushing him away, her reaction sharp and immediate. She wasn’t ready to deal with any of this—not the closeness, not the words. The curse surged within her, threatening to crush everything she’d worked to keep buried. Her breath caught, her heart pounding, and she felt a wave of desperation.

  “My Lord…” The words left her in a rush, the tremor in her voice betraying her need for distance. “Please, just…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. The weight of her fear, her need to be alone, pressed down on her, too heavy to carry any further.

  Her mind screamed at her to move, to put distance between herself and the person who dared to offer help. T

  She turned abruptly, the urge to flee clawing at her insides as she began walking down the familiar path. She didn’t look back.

  Caleb, for all the frustration that simmered beneath his skin, didn’t try to stop her. He knew that look—that desperate push for distance. It was the same thing he had done. The same thing he had fought to survive through.

  But unlike her, he hadn’t been left to suffer alone.

  With a sharp exhale, he followed her—not out of romantic longing, but because he couldn’t just let her walk into this alone. He couldn’t allow her to shut everyone out. Not this time.