The ridge was coming apart.
What had started as a controlled ambush turned into unraveling chaos. The Gravewrought Behemoth loomed like a walking mountain, its jagged form howling through the canyons as the 7th Legion's artillery hit from both flanks. The force of the blasts sent reverberations through the rocky ridge, dislodging debris and waking the mountain's fragile bones.
Kalem gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles white.
"Onyx, hold steady!"
The armored bull snorted in reply, unfazed as fire and stone rained around them. The cart swerved as Kalem directed it toward the high path, cutting across a narrow shelf that hung over the Behemoth's approach. Smoke filled the air. Ash clung to Kalem's skin. The sheer size of the Behemoth was disorienting—its massive feet cracked boulders like eggshells, each step a small quake. Its limbs dragged trails of iron and stone behind it, and its face—if it could be called that—was a tapestry of tormented souls stretched across its surface, their mouths locked in eternal screams.
"Steady..." Kalem whispered. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with focus. His crimson spear pulsed with lightning in his grip. Everything was going according to plan.
Until it wasn't.
A sudden miscalculation. One artillery shell flew wide—too wide. It struck the edge of the ridge just behind the Behemoth's rear leg, sending an explosive shockwave through the cliff face. Kalem felt it before he heard it: the lurch of the earth, the split-second of vertigo as stone groaned and cracked beneath them.
He whipped around. The ground behind them had split. Dust belched skyward. Cavalry units were scattering, trying to avoid the collapsing terrain.
"Back, Onyx!" Kalem tugged the reins hard.
The bull obeyed, hooves skidding, the cart jerking violently. The right rear wheel snapped as it hit an uneven slab, and the cart listed sideways. Kalem struggled to maintain balance, pulling a dagger from his belt and driving it into the wooden frame to brace himself.
That's when the Behemoth lashed out.
A sweeping swing of its massive arm—a tangle of stone, broken chains, and fused metal—smashed into the far ridge, not directed at anyone in particular. But the impact rippled through the structure. Rocks sheared off in slabs. One massive boulder, dislodged by the blow, tumbled down—
And landed directly on the back half of Kalem's cart.
The crash was deafening.
Onyx roared in pain. His armor buckled. Blood spilled onto the cracked wood. The bull's back leg was pinned under the wreckage, crushed. Kalem was thrown clear from the front bench, rolling across the stone ground as splinters flew around him.
"ONYX!!"
Kalem scrambled to his feet, vision blurred, ears ringing. Dust clouded everything. Through it, he saw Onyx still upright, straining against the crushed cart. The beast—his companion—was trying to move, trying to fight despite the agony radiating from his torn side.
Kalem rushed back, ignoring the flames, ignoring the screaming from the cliffs around him. He reached for Onyx's harness, gritting his teeth, bracing his legs as he tried to lift the bull free.
"Come on, dammit—COME ON!"
He poured strength into the pull, his shoulder muscles screaming. Onyx groaned, body heaving, front hooves scrambling at the stone. For a moment, it seemed like they might make it. Just a moment.
But the ridge moaned again.
Kalem turned—just in time to see the ground beneath Onyx begin to collapse.
"No! No no no no—!"
The stone under the bull crumbled, forming a jagged, yawning gap. Kalem lunged, wrapping his arms around Onyx's blood-slick neck. His feet slid across the ridge's edge as he held on, the abyss gaping beneath them both.
Onyx's breath was labored. Kalem could feel the tremors in his companion's chest, the pain, the effort, the refusal to die here.
But he was too heavy.
Too injured.
Kalem stared into the bull's eye. And for one second—it looked back with clarity, calm… and intent.
Then Onyx moved.
A subtle twist of the neck. A jerk of his shoulder.
He shoved Kalem away.
"No—!"
Kalem stumbled back. His grip slipped. And in the next breath, Onyx was gone—his great form falling into the chasm with a final, echoing bellow that tore through Kalem's chest like a blade.
It rang in his ears even as silence fell.
Kalem staggered, dazed, trying to step forward—
And the cliff collapsed beneath him too.
He plunged.
The world spun. Wind howled past his ears. Rocks blurred by. He struck something—a ledge, maybe—his shoulder cracking with pain. Then again, his side slamming into jagged stone. Blood filled his mouth.
His gear flew past him—his blades, his spear, his pack, all torn away by the fall. Only fragments of thought remained.
No.
Not like this.
But his body refused to move. Broken. Reeling.
The light of the sky grew distant above him. The abyss swallowed everything.
And then—
Black.