Chapter 34: Leap of Faith

"The depths you've reached."​

Dream does not visit you in the darkness.

Familiar shaking brings you back to the light. There's a familiar voice, full of sass and energy. You haven't heard someone sound so excited in what feels like an age. "Richard! Richard, dammit all— there's gotta' be a better way to do this— Richard, get up!"

You start to move— anticipating pain, or something to be horrifically off— and the shock of everything working as intended is enough to instantly rouse you out of your slumber. Sitting abruptly upright, you look to Ofelia as she shoots back and narrowly avoids you bumping into her.

The cavern is empty and scarcely lit by Celegwen's staff. She's standing just behind Ofelia. All of the rogue's things are packed up and on her back. Ray is next to them both, eating a bundle of greens eagerly.

A similar wrap of moss and leaves gets shoved into your hands before you can protest. "Gwen tells me you were sleepin' the whole time I was gone. Unbelievable. Four days since I shoved any food at ya'— you'd better start while I catch you up. You aren't gonna believe this."

Celegwen offers you an apologetic look, which you return while gingerly try to chew on the food. Through a cough you can't help but ask, "what did you find?"

"The demon. She wasn't lyin', Richard. No monsters the whole while I was tailin' her. Sure she wasn't much fer conversation, but I didn't have no trouble. I think we might actually be okay to head out." The borderline manic energy eases off of Ofelia as she looks you over. "You okay to walk?"

With a nod, you manage to stretch out, and try to rise. Ray rushes forward as you stagger. With some difficulty you do finally get back on your feet. Both women seem enormously relieved. Ofelia can't help but comment, "there's a sight fer sore eyes."

She leers around, eyeing you curiously. "Hey—!" You recoil from the scrutiny while still trying to keep yourself steady. Ray scoots in between Ofelia and you, seemingly still upset about her pushing you. The halfling gives you a huge grin. She's glancing at your ring, back to you, and back to Celegwen. "Richard, I can't believe you wouldn't tell me!"

Your frown could not be any more extreme. "I... just woke up."

Looking up to you, Ofelia's expression could not be any more smug. "Spill it, Richard. What's goin' on?"

Desperate to buy yourself more time, you glance to Celegwen. You suspect that if the elf kept quiet while you slept for four additional days, she'd rather not divulge anything to her friend now.

Surely enough, see seems mildly worried, and unwilling to talk— but her look tells you that she's willing to go along with whatever you have to say.

At this rate, stress is going to kill me before demons can.

Clasping your hands together— gently concealing the promise ring from sight— you look from Celegwen to Ofelia to murmur, "it was a gift, Ofelia. You know that Celegwen made me a promise. She wanted to thank me for everything I've done for her in a more tangible way. That is— that is all."

Without another word, you get out your journal and flip it open to a new page. Granted, it's bloody and bent with water stains almost beyond recognition— but it's a new page nevertheless. A glance is shot to Ofelia that says you won't speak about the subject any further.

She seems dissatisfied with both the explanation, and your preoccupation. Her attitude is directed straight towards your rapidly scratching pen. "What's the hold up, Richard?"

"This has been bothering me for— for, well— it must be weeks, by now. I've seen so much here in the ruins. My mission here— from the Church, at least— was to catalog and record everything I had seen." You don't even look up from the page. Crude sketches and the briefest notes you can come up with are made with shaky hands, and nothing like your typically fair calligraphy. "This won't take more than a minute."

You don't know if you'll get another chance to record the nightmarish inhabitants of the earth, and you won't let another opportunity pass you by. This may be a distraction from the subject of you and Celegwen, but the matter has been gnawing at you: Everything you've done for these women. All that you've done for yourself. The demons you've faced. The battles you've won and lost. Malimos and his children. The centipede demon, and Orgoth's unbelievable accomplishment. Demonic leeches. Rising water. The colossal centaur with its many heads. Fire on water. Impossibly narrow corridors, lined with screaming mouths. All of the imps you've faced— and the shrouded keeper of death that nearly destroyed your mind.

Your hands tremble. Ofelia leans over— as does Celegwen— as they peer at your recordings.

Ice and paint. Scavengers of death. A feeder of decay, carved into a behemoth of a bridge. Barbed and spiked demons. Guardians of a forgotten civilization. Hundreds of humans lost to themselves. The doppelganger. Remnants of the Church of Mercy. A demon without a face.

The end result is scarcely legible, haphazard, and unable to do any justice to everything you've been through.

You try to think of your future, and what you might face ahead. The journal is closed. You grab your bag, your shield, and turn to your friends.

"I'm ready."

Sincere, concerned smiles pass between Ofelia and Celegwen. You oblige Ray's nudging for attention and scratch his ears as your spotter looks to the caverns beyond.

Her voice is light, but there's tension in Ofelia's words. "Time's a wastin'." More greenery is shoved into your hands before the rogue gestures ahead. "Don't give a shit if this is gonna suck for ya', Richard. Eat while we walk, and stay close. Okay?"

With a grimace, you give the halfling a nod and take the item from her hands. "Ray. Follow. Stay close, boy."

You all set off into darkness. After being bedridden for days, stretching your legs feels incredible.

Soft muttering rises from Celegwen. She whispers into her staff, causing a constant light to flare forth. The pockmarked, worn caverns beyond are fully illuminated. Though the rock and stone is worn from water that once ran below the city, there's no resources in sight.

Through hours of winding through narrow caverns, ascending over smooth terrain, and squinting into shadow, you're relieved beyond words to be able to set off on your own two feet. A prayer to Flesh is muttered throughout your procession. It's punctuated by slowly working at the food Ofelia plied you with. After your last prayer to Mercy, you don't quite mind the pain. It's substantially easier to keep the greens down, and you almost find yourself enjoying the struggle.

Though it's difficult to see them at first, there's motion out in the distance. Whispers in the dark. Your hands tense around Mercy's symbol instinctively.

Ofelia whispers, "it's alright. Stay close. They're not doin' shit."

There's no helping it. You stop completely. Piercing beams of solid light flit off on the horizon, in vaguely humanoid likenesses. Melted blood, and pooling shade congeals in the form of countless imps. They're far healthier than many you've encountered in the ruins thus far. Many creep and scurry along the periphery of your vision. They are darker, deeper, and older than many monsters you've ever witnessed before.

They must all belong to the archdemon.

The thought makes your blood run cold. It's troubling to think of something with so much influence residing within these caverns, but the imps are keeping a huge distance between you all. Not a single pair of eyes can be found.

You can feel their stares.

"C'mon, Richard," the halfling whines. "Seriously. I was out here for over a day with no trouble. It's okay."

You hesitate. You can scarcely make out the form of any of the demons through the darkness. They're clearly minding their own business. It's a distinct possibility that they could be luring you into a false sense of security by keeping so much distance, but you're willing to trust Ofelia's word. "If you insist," you murmur.

Your hand doesn't leave your holy symbol as you all continue through the caverns. Unlike the higher corridors and passages of the ruins, this place seems utterly devoid of any traps or pitfalls. The ground is solid, smooth, and carved by man. Ofelia isn't slacking, and still is clearly on high alert, but she doesn't have to stop nearly as frequently to halt your procession. Your scuffed shoes and the slight crunch of the greens you're working your way through is the only sound you hear beyond the whispering in the distance.

Your grasp on your holy symbol tightens with a pang of insecurity. Frequent as the clergy's whispers were— when you passed through the halls of the Church of Mercy— you're darkly reminded of the past.

What they would say if they saw me now?

Every inch of you tenses— waiting for something to strike out from the shadows. The longer you all walk for, the more you jump at the whispers on the edge of your mind. The occasional rock being knocked aside by imps scurrying— the clink of a demon wearing chains— and the dripping of monsters soaked in fresh blood puts everyone on edge. It sends your nerves alight each and every time, punctuating the growing monotony of their murmurs.

As you all look around constantly for any sort of threat, you ultimately have to trust in your friends. Celegwen's staff casts a fair amount of light around you all, but she cannot fully illuminate your unwelcome company. Hours more pass like this.

You're all too used to needing the utmost caution to casually speak with one another.

The language that the demons are uttering reminds you of when you've prayed at length to Mercy. Laughter intermingles with demonic gasps and cries. Their imitations are debauched at best.

A sudden, violent, and intense urge to vomit overtakes you. You struggle for a moment with yourself— catching a demon running its hands along its body out of the corner of your eye— and just barely manage to hold trembling fingers to your lips.

Ofelia's voice intermingles with the madness. "Richard?"

It's all you can do to put your hands on your knees and try to get some air. The voices are practically unbearable now that you've made the connection. They're not just mocking you.

Their voices remind you of the Goddess Herself.

This doesn't make any sense. There's no reason they should be able to imitate anything regarding Her. Are they speaking through Her? Of Her? These demons are unfit for Mercy's word. This isn't right.

This isn't right.

A hand is placed on your back. You nearly jump out of your skin, whipping your head around with your hand to your holy symbol once more. It's only Celegwen. Ofelia is standing right beside her. They both look worried sick.

"Richard, if the food was that bad—" The halfling is trying to joke.

You shake your head in a poor attempt to get a hold of yourself. It's hard to not fidget with your holy symbol as you try to articulate yourself. "No. It's this— these demons." You look wildly around— trying to see anything distinct— as if you could somehow set your mind at ease if you could clearly identify them.

Their sin remains unseen.

Celegwen takes her hand off of your back, and grasps her staff while trying to reassure you. "It is safe to assume that they are intentionally vexing you, Father."

"No—" A cold sweat starts on the back of your neck, sticking to your robes like the whispers in your skull. "—this isn't right. This can't be right."

"It's just a bit further." Equal parts of worry and irritation are across Ofelia's features as she looks up to you. "There's a gap in the caverns, and the girl-demon-thing said they'd be just past it. Don't let em get to you, Richard. I'm sure it's nothin'."

Moans rise in the distance. Erratic, unnatural movements defines the obscene, unseen army. Your building nausea and sweat is hard to ignore. Every inch of you feels unclean.

These demons have no right. Is this what will happen to me? Is this something more? Why now? What is this place? What am I getting us into?

"Richard? You still there, hotshot?" A hand is waved in front of your face.

Trying to straighten upright and compose yourself, you want to dig your fingers into your skull— and pull out the imp's laughter within it. There's no use trying to see the path ahead.

Looking up to you with a smile, Ofelia takes you by the hand, and sets off a chain reaction of butterflies within your stomach. They threaten to spill out, but she only smiles wider at the distress clear across your face. "We'll be alright. I know you're no demon, Richard..."

You don't even hear the rest of what she says. Her lips are moving, but the weight of Ofelia's words are so substantial that it drowns out everything else. You want to hear it again. "What... what did you say?"

"Gwen's a fuckin' idiot for saying somethin' so inconsiderate?"

You hear Celegwen huff, although she doesn't interrupt.

"No—"

"You don't gotta eat nothin' else? I'm prolly killin' you?"

"No— although I do appreciate it—"

"How I know you're not a demon? Richard, I swear, we're not gonna get anywhere at this rate— you already look like yer gonna pass out. This is ridiculous..."

As she continues to ramble, your nausea abates. A few deep breaths later, you can look up again. To see through the darkness. To see anything. But there's merely shadows, blood, and bone. The caverns wind too closely through one another to make out a turn or two ahead of you at any given time.

Clawing, gasping, lascivious demons keep you too on edge to think clearly.

"Th-thank you, Ofelia. I know— I know you're right, but I can't ignore this." It's an ordeal just to fish out your journal and pen. Slinging off your backpack— flinching and grimacing at each hitching breath that seems to rise in the distance— you can feel Ofelia's and Celegwen's eyes on you. But there's no way you can try to make light of your situation. Not with how important this is to you. You'd feel like an idiot were you to ignore something so critical.

I can't sit idly by and ignore the words of the Goddess. I'm not a hypocrite. I'm not going to invoke the Gods again. Not for something I can manage so readily. I'm going to rely on myself.

Brushing aside your hair, can't really find it in you to care for your appearance. You're far more concerned with the looks that you're getting from your friends. "I'll keep up," you insist. Strapping your pack over your shoulders, you even flit your eyes up to them for a moment. "Really. Let's keep moving."

Ofelia sighs deeply before teasing you, and setting off. "If you trip, there's no way I'm gonna be able to catch ya'."

"I would be able to easily enough." Celegwen offers you a coy smile. "Though I cannot think of a reason to at the moment."

It takes a moment for you to get your journal rested in the crook of your arm so you can write with ease while you walk. Ray silently sticks by your side, looking up to you frequently as you strain to make out any specific prayer, or mention of the Gods.

"Can't think of a reason? Gwen. You're terrible. After everything our hero has done for us?" The halfling pretends to swoon as she picks the path ahead. A dramatic pause is taken to lean against protruding stone, and to place the back of her hand to her head.

You get down maybe one word. Maybe two. It's so difficult to pick out singular sounds. The tone is so soft that the demons' breathy syllables are intangible.

"I am merely respecting his wishes to look after himself. Surely you would approve of someone putting their body to good use, Ofelia."

You try penning a few reoccurring syllables. A single word or two seem more common than the rest— but then again, it's difficult to say.

Is there even any consistency? Why is this so difficult to interpret? Are they toying with me?

"H-hey now." The rogue drags herself off from the rocks, and continues on ahead. "I've got plenty of ideas about that, and you don't gotta get into none of 'em."

"Perhaps I do. Why don't you elaborate? I am always eager to broaden my mind, Ofelia—"

Is the laughter ringing out between every other word an indication that these imps know what you're trying to do?

"Not that it'd matter. I doubt he's even listenin'—"

"I am trying to listen—" You glance up to make sure you're not about to hit a wall as everyone turns another bend in the caverns. "—but it is proving increasingly difficult."

Both women look back at you sheepishly. Celegwen makes a gesture to Ofelia to close her mouth. You blush at how crude Ofelia's gesture is in turn, and glance back to your journal again. Your writing has smeared down the page. Every character you painstakingly penned had melted away.

Looking around frantically, there's no sign of a single drop of ink on your hands. There's not a demon in sight. Celegwen's staff illuminates nothing next to you. Ray's steady pace, and his complete absence of noise is further reassurance that no one has tampered with your work.

I need to calm down.

You look back to your journal. The ink is practically dripping to the floor. You hold the item an arm's length away to not stain your robes, and rush to catch back up to your friends.

"Ofelia, Celegwen— did you— did anyone—"

They both look back over their shoulders. The halfling looks like she wants to groan, but is clearly trying to remain respectful. Ray growls a bit at her. You offer the mastiff an appreciative look and try to take a deep breath. It's all you can do to come up behind them and wave the melted ink at the sorceress. "Celegwen. Are you aware of any Magic that would cause this writing to— well, look—"

Squinting, the elf stops walking to hold out a hand for the journal. "Just a moment, Ofelia."

The blonde's groan properly comes out as she comes to a halt. "We'll see the next age before we get to this place."

Looking around and behind you all, you hand over the journal. There's a few imps lurking in the shadows, but they don't dare to enter the radius of Celegwen's light. She hands the journal back to you with a frown. "This is no sorcerery. None, at least, that I'm familiar with. Perhaps..."

Even your patience is wearing thin. "Perhaps what?"

"...perhaps your Goddess does not wish to be heard in this fashion?"

"That— that is a comforting thought. But—" Your grimace doesn't completely fade as you look to the wasted ink. "—this is still something I would like to record."

Ofelia groans. "This is useless." With a huff, she gets behind you and Celegwen. Her hands go to the small of each of your backs to heave and push you forward. Before you can protest, Ray immediately growls and nips at her heels.

You doubt she can hear you murmur, "good boy," but you back away from her quickly regardless.

The rogue settles on bullying Celegwen physically— and you verbally. "Come on! We're gettin' out of here even if you both want to make a new library in the damn time in between..."

The march continues, along with futile attempts to continue recording the demon's whispers. You go through three sheets of parchment trying alternating pressure, changing the pen, clearing the ink, and even trying to scratch the sounds you decipher straight into the pages. Nothing seems to work. The markings run together each and every time.

Ultimately you close the journal, and focus more on the path through the caverns. It all begins to blur together. You marvel at how adept Ofelia is at navigating the winding stone. There are countless pits and holes carved into the walls, no doubt housing countless more demons.

Despite her earlier promise, Ofelia eventually plies you with more food and water. She's insisting on everyone keeping on their feet while you wear through what must be very limited resources. Her excuse is that it's been four days since you did anything to look after yourself. You try to go along with it, despite the pain.

I swore to try.

Time wears on all of you. It feels like you've been walking for nearly a day. Your feet are begging for relief, and you're starting to worry you're pushing Ray too hard— when something leans out of the shadows at you all. There's a splash of gold before a deep fall. Darkness looms on every side of the world. The caverns at your back are the only clear feature for miles. Ofelia's voice takes on the utmost seriousness.

"We're here."

"I can't see anything," you try to explain.

"Yeah. I know. The demon tried to warn me. I didn't believe her, though. Gwen?"

"Of course," the sorceress replies.

Her voice lifts. Light and heat envelops Celegwen's words as she chants, waves her staff overhead, and extends a searing light out with the motion.

For a split second, you see no fewer than three dozen imps scurry away from the light. They retreat to the illuminated caverns at your back. Before you, the light is extinguished completely. The pit of shadow at the edge of the cliff sucks all of the heat and joy out of starlight and Magic.

Though Celegwen maintains the intensity and range of her spell for several seconds, the path ahead devours the spell as soon as it came. The light retreats back into the same, small radius that defined Celegwen's spell before.

She slumps forward, leaning hard on her staff. Something about the elf looks completely defeated. "I have lost far too much to rival this sorcery."

Ofelia's shoulders sag for only a moment. "Don't worry 'bout nothin' Gwen. We'll figure somethin' out."

The rogue takes a few cautious steps ahead. Glancing over her shoulder, she says with a trace of worry, "I can't see the bottom."

"Was there no other way?" You look all around. The cavern opened out into complete darkness. You know there to be at least twice as many imps behind you as what you faced in the abandoned church of Mercy. The floor ahead is slick, and is coated with solid metal. You speculate it's the last remnants of the demon's trail. It's is the only trace of anything here, it seems.

There is absolutely nothing you can discern on the horizon. Endless shadow defines the edge of the world.

​

"There was... somethin' else." Ofelia says quietly.

You look to her expectantly. She looks out into the darkness. It seems like she can make out something. Her words send a chill down your spine. "She said to walk out."

You and Celegwen both say simultaneously, "what?"

"She said to walk out into the pit, or to walk home. Either way, she said to walk out. I thought it was a load of shit, but well, here we are. Fuckin' nonsense. There's gotta be a way—" She squints. "Do ya' see that?"

There's no amusement in your voice as you reply, "no."

Celegwen echoes your distaste. "You brought us out here knowing there was no path— what is it, Ofelia?"

"There's a light. Way, way out there. It's red. I couldn't see it before— you don't see that?"

The elf frowns, taking a long moment to look out. "I might. It's hard to say. It's so small."

You squint again, straining your eyes. It's hard to tell if there aren't merely lights dancing in your vision from Celegwen's spell, or if there really is something on the horizon.

A few steps are taken towards the edge of the abyss. You don't dare get right to the sharp and indefinite pit. Oddly enough, no wind or chill rises from below. It's even comfortably warm where you're all standing, even.

With a heavy heart, you look to your companions. They seem even more conflicted than you are. None of you are giving up now, but you have no idea what will happen if you step out into this nightmare. You don't want to take any chances.

But there is light here. There's light in your friends. In Ofelia— who was willing to trust in your word— who came this far with only a demon she hates for a guide. There is light in her willingness to lead you this deeply into the ruins, despite not knowing where you might take her next. There's light in Celegwen's readiness to protect you. In her kindness— and for all of your flaws— for her acceptance of you. There's light in Ray's loyalty as he stays by your side, no matter the danger.

There's light in Mercy's symbol as you hold it tightly against your hand. You look to your friends with resolution, and let your gaze linger on Ofelia. "Let me see your rope. All of it."

She immediately goes to take off her pack, teasing, "now's not the time, Richard."

You try not to frown, but can't help yourself as Celegwen struggles not to laugh.

Curiosity finally gets the better of you as Ofelia digs through her things. Your eyes go wide. Her backpack is bursting with trinkets. Metal, glass, and gemstones catch in the unnatural light. They reflect off of goblets and jewels, a huge collection of daggers, and countless vials of what you assume to be poison. It's all carefully padded with dozens of handkerchiefs. There's no food you can identify, though she seems to have a little water and liquor left.

Ofelia gives you a cheeky grin as she fishes out a huge spool of rope from a side pouch, and more from the back. "It's impolite to look at a lady's things, Richard."

You blanch, lean back as straight as you can, and avert your gaze. Celegwen offers you an easy out, and can't help but fire back. "Since when have you ever called yourself a lady, Ofelia?"

No reply comes while the rogue keeps digging. The floor and darkness doesn't offer much respite, but you're given you a moment to collect yourself.

You gaze to the abyss ahead.

Ofelia comes back into view after a moment, rope in hand. "A hundred feet, give or take. You about to do somethin' we're all gonna regret?"

It's impossible to not smirk. "Have a little faith, Ofelia."

She groans, laughing to herself as the rope is shoved into your hands. It weighs enough to make your arms drop.

How has she been carrying so much with her this entire time...?

"You gonna do somethin' with that, big guy? Or do you need me to tie some knots, too?"

"Ofelia, please. Have a little self-respect." Celegwen drawls, shooting her a smile as she comes over to both of you.

Unable to stop any heat from coming to your face, you try to focus on avoiding their gaze. Working on securing a length of the rope around your waist is fine instead. "I c-could use a hand—"

Your face falls. It's impossible to avoid glancing up in embarrassment. Fear of scrutiny is written all over your face.

Both of your friends look like they've lost a few years off their life as they see how little rope is needed to get around your waist. "Fer fuck's sake, Richard. Gwen, you can't do nothin' about this? I mean, I hate to ask but I hadn't realized—"

The elf takes her hand away from her mouth, collecting herself. "It is a blessing in disguise, if you look at it a certain way— do not give me that look, Ofelia— I meant that we will have significantly more rope to work with, this way. I fear what tampering with his body may do with—"

You grimace, and tighten the rope further. "With the Gods."

Ofelia starts to fuss, taking the length out of your hands. "I wasn't jokin'. Here, gimme that. You'll cut yerself in half doin' that."

You wince, vividly remembering your last excursion rock climbing. You have to wonder in how many ways your prayer to Flesh saved your life that day.

"Here. Take off your robes."

"Ofelia!" The faintest possible blush blossoms over Celegwen's face.

You're completely at a loss for words as the halfling begins to make a series of loops in the rope. She groans again. "Get yer mind outta the gutter. Both of ya'. They'll get in the way. I know you've got a shirt and pants on— keep 'em on. Step into this."

You begrudgingly doff the lengthy black garment, and tighten your belt to the smallest notch. It's still loose, but you can't think of any better alternative before stepping into the strange harness Ofelia's fashioned. She makes a few adjustments around your legs and steps back, giving you a thumbs up, but her face is still wrought with worry. It's getting under your skin.

Celegwen's blush is all but gone. She looks over you both with extreme concern. "You should leave your shield and supplies here. I do not know if I will be able to support your weight... modest though it may be."

I've been saying I'll take better care of myself. I'll do better.

These things take time. I've been struggling with Agriculture for years. I won't get better in a few days or weeks.

They need to understand that.

Taking a deep breath, you restrain any and all tension in your voice. "I'm fine. The Gods are with me. Mercy is with me. There is nothing to fear."

Both women look to each other, silently exchanging some message that you don't particularly want to interpret.

There is nothing wrong with me.

You take another deep breath, walk up to Ray, and lead a huge length of the rope with you. His eyes absolutely light up. You can't help but get some relief at the sight.

Ofelia nudges Celegwen and they watch you for a moment as you play some tug-of-war with your dog. It's not hard to imagine that Ray's strength dwarfs all of your combined. Your heart feels a good bit lighter for the motions. You affectionately scratch his ears, and give Ray a pat on the head before getting back to business.

One hand is placed out in firm command. "Sit, Ray. Stay. Good boy. Now, bite." Brutally strong jaws snatches up the rope, and keeps the length firmly held between lethal teeth. You leave a fair amount of slack to walk with, but stay put. You put your hand up, making your voice as firm as you're able. "Stay. Do not let go, Ray. Stay."

His dedication is unwavering as you stride forward, and lead the rope towards the ledge with complete confidence.

At least I have one friend I'll never have to explain myself to.

As you approach the edge of the pit, you look to Ofelia and Celegwen, and gesture with the slack in your hands. "His bite is incredibly strong. I worry more that the rope will break before his grip does, but I would never forgive myself if he got hurt. Please, hold onto this."

They both set down their weapons, gear, and immediately take the rope in both hands.

Everyone tenses as you take a step towards the edge of the abyss. Now that your eyes are adjusting to the more intense darkness, you can see a faint, red speck on the horizon. It's impossible to resist the urge to look down.

Vertigo seizes you. The world turns. You nearly stagger as a seemingly endless void leers back at you. Your stomach shifts, but you do not step back.

You glance back at your friends. They're both visibly sweating. Ray is dutifully sitting right behind them, and shows no signs of compromising the mission. Their pin-prick pupils stare to you and the cliff. All-white knuckles desperately clutch onto the rope, waiting for a sudden pull.

You turn back, and utter a single word as you step out.

"Mercy."