The first thing Arvey felt was wet sand clinging to his skin. His body ached with a deep, pulping pain, his limbs sluggish as if he had been submerged in tar. His ribs throbbed where the Hal’Grag’s claws had raked across his side, and every breath sent a sharp reminder of his injuries lancing through his chest. He was alive.

  Waves rolled up the shore and slid back with a hiss. The black water had swallowed him, yet somehow, it had spit him back out. He forced his eyes open. He pushed his palm into the sand and lifted his head, blinking through grit.

  Above him, the sky spread in deep purple and dark blue bands. The light stayed low and flat, like late dusk that refused to shift. He searched for the sun out of habit and found only a slow drift of color that moved across the air. His eyes ached from the strain, so he lowered his gaze and focused on what he could measure: shoreline, wind, distance.

  Gritting his teeth, he slammed his fist into the sand. Once. Then again. "You better be fine," he muttered under his breath. Bordo’s face flashed in his mind—teeth bared in a grin.

  Arvey forced himself to sit up, his fingers sinking into damp sand as his body protested. His tattered clothes were soaked, the fabric clinging to him, heavy with residual water from the Abyss. He dragged a hand over his face, wiping away the moisture, only for a slick, writhing sensation to slide across his wrist.

  Arvey froze, then looked down. Black frogs crawled across his forearm in a slow stream, their bellies pressed to his skin, their bodies glossy with abysswater. Their feet clung, then released, and each one dropped to the sand and pushed toward the tide with steady strokes.

  His stomach twisted. "How long...? Had they been inside the water? Had they... Don’t finish that thought."

  The last one stubbornly clung to his wrist. Arvey flicked his arm, sending it tumbling into the sand. He shuddered, wiping his wrist aggressively against his soaked clothes. "Oh, come on! Just let go already!," he muttered. The frog let out a guttural croak before scrambling after the others, vanishing beneath the tide.

  Arvey flexed his hand and felt heat under the skin, a pulse that ran through his veins with each beat of his heart. "What the hell happened?" Arvey muttered, flexing his fingers, feeling the warmth pulsing beneath his skin.

  His movements felt the same, but something had changed. Something he couldn’t name.

  His mind raced through fractured memories—the Sangre Grande, the fight, the chaos. Bordo. The Hal’Grags tearing through the ship, blood slicking the deck, the fall, the tentacles. The cold, crushing weight of the Abyss.

  He pulled his knees under him and rose in stages. First a crouch, then half-standing, then upright with his feet wide for balance. Dizziness swam at the edge of his vision when he lifted his head too fast, and he waited it out with his jaw clenched. He reached for his belt and found torn leather and empty loops.

  "No one survives the Abyss they said," Arvey said aloud, the weight of those words sinking in. "And yet... here I am."

  “Seems like rumors again.” He scanned the coastline. The shore stretched endlessly in both directions, dark and damp, littered with sharp stones and tangled seaweed. Further inland, jagged black rock formations jutted toward the sky, some shaped like twisted, weathered faces. Beyond them, a forest loomed—warped trees with slick, gnarled bark, their roots coiling like living things. Mist curled through the undergrowth, shifting unnaturally, like it had a mind of its own.

  A chill ran through him.

  "Seems like this place isn't meant for living," Arvey muttered, scanning the eerie coastline. "And yet... seems like some things live here."

  He checked his side again and pressed cloth into the gash. Blood seeped through in a steady line, thin from seawater. He tore a strip from his shirt with both hands, using his teeth when his grip slipped, and wrapped it around his ribs in a tight band. The pressure steadied the pain and gave him a deeper breath.

  "If I stay here, I’ll die," Arvey said firmly, pushing himself to his feet. "I have to move." “Shelter,” he said. “Water. A weapon.” He walked along the tide line and searched for anything that could serve.

  Suddenly brush rustled at the edge of the beach. His body tensed, instincts screaming at him to stay alert. He didn’t have a weapon. His ribs throbbed as he braced himself, shifting into a defensive stance. He watched the undergrowth for the first clean motion and tracked the line where sand met roots. His breathing shortened.

  Something small pushed through the leaves and stepped onto the beach. Then it hesitated, shifting its weight awkwardly before stumbling slightly forward. A soft pomf followed as the creature face-planted into the sand. Arvey held his stance and waited for teeth, claws, anything that fit the rules of the Abyss he knew.

  A small, round owl sat awkwardly in front of him, wings flared out like it had tried to stop itself but failed spectacularly. It twitched slightly, then shook sand from its fluffy body.

  Its chest rose and fell fast, and its feet dug into the sand for traction. It blinked twice, then puffed itself as if size alone could change the outcome of a meeting.

  Arvey said, “An owl..,” more to anchor himself than to describe it. His body still waited for the follow-up. The owl took a step forward with careful placement, then gave a small wobble as its talons slipped, catching itself with a quick wing flick.

  The small owl righted itself quickly, ruffling its feathers before standing tall, wings flared out. It looked at Arvey with large, black eyes and announced in a small, confident voice:

  “Me Kozlo,” it said in a small voice that carried confidence.

  The words came out clipped, like a line practiced. It puffed again and held still. Arvey wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You talk,” he said, keeping his voice low. Kozlo blinked once and held its posture. “Kozlo talk,” the owl replied.

  Arvey blinked in disbelief, "You've got to be kidding me."

  Kozlo looked at Arvey’s defensive stance, then back to Arvey’s face. “Kozlo friend!”

  Arvey held the stance and kept his feet wide. “Are you a Corriph?”

  “Kozlo is owl!” Kozlo said again, voice firm.

  Arvey watched the owl’s chest and the set of its talons. “I take this as a no.”

  Finally he let his shoulders drop. “First time ever I saw a monster speak.”

  Kozlo puffed once and shook sand from its feathers. “Kozlo owl. Kozlo no monster.”

  Arvey lifted his chin a fraction. “Do you live here?”

  Kozlo nodded hard once and kept its eyes on Arvey. “Kozlo lives here.”

  Arvey tested his ribs with a small inhale and kept the breath shallow. “My ship went under,” he said. “Creatures tore men apart.” He shifted his gaze toward the trees. “You came from the forest.”

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  “Forest safe,” Kozlo said, like reciting a rule it trusted. Arvey angled his head and studied the owl’s posture.

  “You look different from the beasts I fought,” he said.

  Kozlo strong,” Kozlo answered. It hopped and landed with a wobble, then puffed again and froze. Arvey exhaled through his nose and weighed time against risk.

  He needed direction, and the forest offered cover from wind and sight. He rolled his shoulders, wincing as pain lanced through his ribs. "No more wasting time. I have to find shelter, food, and figure out where the hell I am."

  A soft shuffling made him glance down. "Guess I don’t have a choice."

  Arvey glanced back once at the desolate shore before finally moving forward, his gaze fixed ahead, but the sound of soft shuffling behind him caught his attention. Kozlo was waddling after him, kicking up tiny puffs of sand with each step, determined to keep up.

  Arvey narrowed his eyes. “You’re following me?”

  “Kozlo is friend!” The owl nodded enthusiastically, determination evident in its tiny frame.

  Arvey rubbed his face, pushing his hair back. “Why,” he asked. Kozlo shifted its feet in the sand. “Kozlo alone,” Kozlo said. Its chest deflated a fraction, then rose again as it tried to hold pride. “Kozlo want friend.”

  Arvey held still for a beat and watched the owl’s eyes. Something in that answer pressed on his chest deeper than pain, and he kept his expression flat. “Fine,” he said. “My name is Arvey.”

  Kozlo puffed its chest and bobbed its head once. “Meet you, Kozlo happy!” It said. Arvey nodded and set his feet again.

  “Stay close,” Arvey said. “Stay quiet when I signal.” He lifted two fingers. “If I raise this hand, you stop.”

  Kozlo bobbed its head. “Kozlo stop.” It stayed close to his leg as if it feared losing him. Arvey started walking toward the rock shelves. His legs felt heavy from fatigue, and each step tugged at the bandage. He kept his pace steady and saved speed for when it mattered.

  Kozlo waddled after him, feet tapping the wet sand, fluttering when the ground shifted under it. Arvey climbed onto the first shelf with careful placement. He planted a foot, tested friction, then shifted weight and pushed up with his thigh, keeping his ribs guarded. Pain spiked when he leaned too far, and he corrected with a smaller angle.

  Kozlo followed with short wing beats, landing and regaining balance with a shuffle. From the shelf, Arvey scanned the land. The beach curved away into haze, and the sea stayed black under the low light. Inland, the forest thickened into a mass of trunks and roots with mist clinging near the ground. The horizon held only that and stone.

  He moved toward the treeline. Sand gave way to packed soil and scattered rock. The air carried damp rot as he closed on the forest, and the wind weakened under the first line of trees. Roots broke the surface in slick ropes, and he placed each step with care.

  Kozlo stayed near his heel and watched the ground like it learned the same lesson. A low croak sounded deeper inside. Arvey raised two fingers, and Kozlo froze at once, talons gripping a root. Arvey listened until the sound faded, then moved again with slower steps and his head angled to keep his ears open.

  Mist curled around his ankles and dampened his trousers. The air tasted of wet bark and minerals when he breathed in. He saw claw marks on a trunk, shallow scratches spaced in a way that suggested a wide hand. He kept his left arm close to his ribs and let his right hand hang ready at his side.

  Kozlo made a soft sound. “Water,” the owl whispered. Arvey followed the owl’s gaze. A thin trickle ran along a groove in stone and gathered in a small pool. He crouched with controlled movement and watched the surface for film and insects.

  “Can drink,” Kozlo said. Arvey took a small sip first, then drank in slow, careful pulls, pausing to breathe through the tightness in his chest. He offered the water to Kozlo, and the owl drank, then blinked slowly. “Good,” Kozlo said. Arvey stood and felt his legs steadier.

  “We keep moving,” he said. “High ground. Shelter.” He looked along the rock line and chose firmer ground. “Something hunts here,” he added.

  “Big things,” Kozlo said. “Fast things.” They moved uphill in a slow grade.

  Arvey kept his steps short. When his vision blurred at the edges, he slowed and took controlled breaths until it sharpened again. Kozlo hopped from root to root and turned its head in quick angles, listening. The mist thinned as the ground rose.

  A small dark creature darted between roots ahead, low to the ground. It paused on a stone and watched him with pale eyes, its throat pulsing. Arvey shifted his feet and raised his hands, right fist forward, left hand close to his ribs. The creature suddenly lunged for his shin.

  Arvey pulled his leg back and shifted his weight onto his rear foot. He drove his heel down onto the creature’s head as it slid past, then followed with a short stomp that pinned it to the soil. He kept his weight over it for a full breath, eyes on the brush. “That thing was weak,” Arvey said in a low voice as he rolled his ankle once and kept moving.

  Kozlo bobbed its head and stayed close. “Monster tier zero,” it said. “Arvey tier one.”

  Arvey kept walking and spoke without looking away from the path. “Me? Tier one?”

  Kozlo nodded hard once, then puffed its chest as if the answer required pride.

  Arvey thought of the heat in his body and the hard pulse behind it. Walking, he looked down at his hand. Understanding clicked into place with the stories he had heard for years. “So that was the first breakthrough…” he said under his breath, eyes still on his hands. He let his fingers spread and close once more. “Something must have happend in the abyss water.”

  A sound carried from far uphill, a slow scrape through brush followed by a wet thud. Arvey lifted his hand in the stop signal, shifted his stance, and listened. Kozlo bumped into Arvey’s foot with a soft knock, then steadied itself with a quick wing flick.

  “Let’s move on for now,” Arvey said after a short while. As he angled uphill, Kozlo stayed close at his heel, feet tapping stone and root as it tried to match the pace.

  Arvey suddenly stopped in place and turned his head toward Kozlo. “Kozlo. Do you know the forest?”

  Kozlo looked up at him and puffed its chest. “Abyss. Kozlo’s home!”

  Arvey nodded once and shifted his weight forward. “Do you know a safe place?”

  Kozlo bobbed its head once and changed direction at once. “Follow,” it said in a confident voice.

  Arvey shifted behind it and kept his steps quiet. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he watched Kozlo puff itself up and march ahead.

  Kozlo moved through a narrow gap where stone shelves formed a crooked corridor. “Stone path,” it said, then tapped a talon on the rock as if marking the line. “Quiet here.”

  Arvey kept his shoulders low as he passed between the shelves. He watched the angles ahead and the space behind, then followed Kozlo into a clearing ringed by boulders. The rocks rose like walls and broke sightlines from the trees, and the wind died inside.

  Kozlo stopped near the center and looked up at him. “Safe,” it said. Arvey stepped in last and turned in a slow circle, measuring exits and angles.

  Arvey lifted two fingers and held Kozlo’s gaze. “Two chirps if you notice something wrong,” he said.

  Kozlo bobbed its head once and set its feet. “Two chirps,” it said.

  As they entered, Arvey saw a body lying on the dirt near the center, half on its side, limbs stiff. Kozlo chirped twice at once, then stared at the corpse.

  Arvey looked at Kozlo and kept his voice low. “It’s okay. I saw it myself.”

  “Okay!” Kozlo said, then held still, head angled toward the treeline.

  Arvey went closer, crouched, and studied the body. Skin looked pale under the flat light, and the face carried sharp lines that did not match any race he remembered. “I don’t know what race this is.”

  Kozlo stepped closer and stared at the corpse. “Stalker,” it said, voice firm. Arvey kept his posture low and watched the owl’s eyes. “Stalker?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” Kozlo said. It puffed once, then turned its head toward the trees and held still. Arvey took the silence as a boundary and shifted his focus back to the body.

  He searched the Stalker’s belt and found a small pouch tucked under a strap. The leather felt dry compared to his clothes, and the clasp opened with a click. When he lifted it, the weight stayed wrong for the size, and a pressure pulled at his palm as if the space inside reached deeper.

  “A dimensional item,” Arvey said. He opened the pouch and reached inside. His hand slid into cool air and came out with two small vials, glass cold against his skin.

  He sat with his back to stone and rolled one vial between his fingers. “A health potion?” he said, keeping his voice low, then pulled the cork.

  The potion smelled sharp, like crushed herbs and iron. He drank in two measured pulls and forced himself to keep it down. Heat spread through his chest and side, and his breathing deepened as the tight edge of pain eased. He pressed a hand to the bandage and felt the bleeding slow, then drank the second vial to steady his legs.

  He stood in stages and tested his balance on the uneven ground. Strength returned in a clean line through his thighs, and his vision sharpened at the edges. He looked at the corpse again, then at the rocks around them. “If this Stalker lies here dead, the monster who did it stays close.”

  A sound tore through the trees in the distance, a high screech with weight behind it. The clearing shook with the vibration, and the air turned thin in Arvey’s throat.

  Arvey closed the pouch and tied it to his waist with a knot that sat tight against his hip. He raised his hand for Kozlo and kept his voice low and controlled. “Stay close. We move on my signal.”

  The screech came again, louder, and the rocks threw it back into the clearing.

  Kozlo chirped twice to Arvey, then spread its wings wide to make itself bigger. Its feathers shook at the tips, and its talons stayed locked on the stone.

  Arvey glanced at it and kept his voice low. “I heard it. What is this supposed to be? What are you doing?”

  Kozlo looked back at him, eyes bright, somehow happy. It grinned as far as a beak could and held its wings out harder. “Fight!”