Chapter 2

He should have drowned.
Somehow, he had not.

The hands that pulled him from the river did not let go. Rae drifted in and out of consciousness, darkness and pain trading places as the old man carried him. Sometimes he felt movement, the steady rhythm of footsteps beneath him. Other times there was only nothing.

His body did not feel like his own anymore. Distant and heavy, like it belonged to someone else.

When consciousness finally returned, the air had changed.

Warmth surrounded him. The scent of damp stone and bitter herbs filled his lungs as he gasped, and pain flared instantly across his chest. He tried to move but failed. Bandages wrapped tight around his body, rough cloth binding his head, chest, arms, and legs. Every breath pulled against them, reminding him how close he had come to breaking apart entirely.

A fire crackled nearby. Orange light flickered across stone walls carved deep into the mountain.

“Awake.”

The voice was calm, stating fact rather than asking.

Rae turned his head slowly. The old man sat by the fire, gray hair tied back simply. Lines carved deep into weathered skin. His body was lean and compact, nothing wasted. Not young, but not weak either.

“Who… are you?” Rae’s throat burned. The words scraped out.

“Roa.”

The man did not look up, stirring a pot over the fire.

Rae swallowed, tasting ash. “Where am I?”

“Very far into the mountain.” Roa glanced at him once, eyes sharp and measuring. “You are lucky. Most who go in that river do not come out.”

Rae said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Roa poured something into a wooden bowl and brought it over. “Drink.”

Rae’s hands shook as he took it. He lowered his gaze to the bowl.

It was a simple, clear, warm soup. He drank, and the liquid slid down his throat like life itself. His stomach clenched painfully as hunger surged, and before he realized it, he was slurping greedily, uncaring of manners.

When the bowl was empty, Rae exhaled shakily. “Thank you.”

Roa took it back without comment. “Sit up.”

Rae tried. Pain shot through his ribs, his back, everywhere the fire had touched. He managed it anyway, teeth clenched.

Roa stepped closer. “I stopped your bleeding and kept your breath from scattering. Burned flesh does not heal itself. Your life, as it is now, is temporary.”

“How can I stay alive?”

“First, learn how to breathe,” Roa said calmly.

Rae blinked. “Breathe…?”

Roa snorted. “Most think breathing is a joke, but it is the foundation of oneself. If you can breathe, then you can say that you survived.”

Rae did not think twice. He started breathing.

Pain exploded through him like lightning. He convulsed, choking on a scream that had no sound. Something inside him shifted, fractured, barely holding together.

“Do not resist or chase it,” Roa said. “Relax. Inhale through the nose. Count to six. Hold. Exhale slowly through the mouth.”

“…Like this?” Rae said, breathless and shaking.

“Better.” Roa’s tone did not change. “Someone taught you to breathe properly. Whoever it was knew what they were doing.”

Rae’s throat tightened. “My mother.”

Roa glanced at him briefly, then continued working. “She taught you well.”

He stepped back after a moment. “Rest. Tomorrow we continue.”

Rae lay there, staring at the cave ceiling. His mother’s voice echoed in his memory, soft and patient.

Breathe with the world.

He had not understood then. He still did not. But he obeyed.

Days blurred together after that. Rae could not tell how many. Time lost meaning in the cave, where there was no sun, no sky, only firelight, stone, and pain.

If he slept, it was because his body collapsed.
If he woke, it was because the pain returned.

Every day was the same.

“Sit.”

That was Roa’s greeting.

No encouragement.
No explanation.

If his posture wavered, the staff struck the stone beside his head.
If his breath scattered, he received a pinch in the middle of his forehead.

“Again.”

The word followed him everywhere.

Rae collapsed forward, coughing hard.

Something warm splattered against the stone.

He stared at it, blinking slowly. “…That is not good, right?”

Roa glanced down once. “Better out than in.”

That was all.

Rae clenched his jaw and pushed himself upright again. “You are enjoying this.”

Roa snorted. “If I were, you would be screaming.”

Roa worked on him methodically, grinding herbs into paste and applying them to burns. The smell was awful and the pain worse. After a few days, his burned skin was raw in places, darkened in others. His back bore the worst of it, where flame and smoke had lingered too long. Along his jaw, the damage was not deep, but visible.

Rae clenched his jaw as the cavern light revealed his body.

“…So I look like this now.”

“You lived,” Roa replied calmly.

Rae stared at his hands. They trembled, not from fear, but exhaustion.

“I can still breathe,” he muttered. “So I guess that is good.”

“They are proof of what your body endured,” Roa said. “Learn from them.”

A week passed.

Rae learned to endure. Pain became routine, something to breathe through rather than fight. His lungs no longer rattled with every breath.

But something else was wrong.

He could feel it.

A heaviness deep inside. Something pressing down on his chest that had nothing to do with his injuries.