The Cave-Part Two

The Thing and the Girl of the Earth

The vibration in that subterranean and claustrophobic sepulcher continued.

She tried in vain to communicate with Van. Static was all she received.

Lizbeth fell on her butt as the ground moved beneath her feet. The bones clattered, colliding with one another due to the vibration, and then... everything stopped.

Lizbeth stood up and pointed her flashlight in all directions. Then she looked at the tip of the compass. It still pointed ahead of her, but Lizbeth had no desire to continue.

She needed to get out of there.

It was then that she felt a tingling in her nose. Something made her cough and sneeze. She brought her hand to her nose. It was as if something were entering her nostrils.

She rubbed her nose, illuminating her hand, and then she saw it. A fine dust floated throughout the cave. It wasn't common suspended dirt and dust. It was different. It moved, swirled. It resembled one of those desert whirlwinds that formed vortices. Except there was no wind there to make it move that way. She hadn't noticed it at first, but when she realized, the entire cave was covered in that dust, which seemed to have a life of its own. Lizbeth rubbed her nose and saw it more clearly.

It was a yellowish sand that shone like gold. Could it be a vein of gold that had never been found? Or perhaps found but never disclosed? She glanced at the skeletons out of the corner of her eye.

Lizbeth felt the golden sand slip through her fingers, light, as if it were a mist that evaporated and then swirled in the air. But as she moved forward, a slight change occurred. The atmosphere thickened, the air became heavy. Suddenly, the golden sand ceased to be a light golden breeze and transformed into a thick liquid, dark as ink, that floated around her. It was as if everything the air touched in that cave came to life. The sensation of suffocation intensified as the dust condensed, taking up space, and without warning, it shot toward her with supernatural force.

Lizbeth tried to scream, but the air in the cave had become dense, as if the very walls were imprisoning her, as if gravity itself had increased. The dark substance surrounded her, and before she could comprehend what was happening, the black substance slid into her mouth, her eyes, every opening of her body, dragging her into a spiral of indescribable terror.

The pain was instantaneous, unbearable. As if her very flesh were decomposing from within, as if thousands of invisible threads were weaving around her consciousness, beginning to shatter it.

Memories surfaced in her mind like a rusted fountain beginning to spew black waters.

A night. Hands grabbing her body. Darkness that lasted for two years. She felt needles on her body. She felt herself drowning. She felt her flesh being opened again and again. The experiments.

Despair overwhelmed her, and as she struggled to scratch herself, to try to remove that substance from her body, the sensation of being invaded became even more terrible. The heat began to rise, as if her body were about to explode, but the invasion was much deeper, much more subtle.

That thing, whatever it was, was alive.

It was an entity, something beyond her comprehension, that had found in her body a host, a refuge where its thoughts intertwined with hers. And then, the horror was not only physical. She began to perceive something else, something that shouldn't be there, a presence that didn't belong to this world.

The pain transformed into a kind of void, a place without time, as if she were sinking into the depths of the abyss. Lizbeth tried to cling to reality, to the consciousness she had left, but it was as if her mind were separating, distilled by something alien, by an ancestral and monstrous consciousness.

In the distance, in her mind, almost like a distortion, she heard Van's voice with her warnings, although she couldn't identify it clearly, just a distant echo, as if reality itself were breaking. A silent scream formed in her throat, but the black liquid had already absorbed everything. It was no longer her body, no longer her mind. It was something else. Something unnamed.

The pain began to take on a completely new form, and Lizbeth, despite her despair, no longer knew if what she felt was still hers. That thing, that dark presence, not only invaded her physically but also infiltrated her mind, twisting and fighting with her, as if her body were a battlefield. She felt her consciousness slipping away, as if a dense fog were trying to take over everything she was. Her mind, once secure and controlled, became a strange place, invaded by foreign thoughts, a crucible of terror and madness that distorted reality with every second.

I'm unraveling, she thought.

And for the first time, that idea struck her as neither tragic nor strange.

Only true.

Her fingers curled as she convulsed on the ground, her muscles trembling with the violence of the internal struggle. The physical pain was no longer the worst; the worst was the stripping of her being, as if someone were tearing pieces of her soul away. Her body shook involuntarily, her spasms were reflexes of that relentless battle between her and the shadow that sought to dominate her. The edges of her vision blurred, and the cave, with its damp and dark walls, seemed to crumble. The rocks, the golden sand becoming liquid, everything began to spin, to distort. She no longer knew if what she was seeing was real or simply a projection of the entity fighting to take control.

In the midst of that storm, Lizbeth could feel something deep and alien to everything she knew within her, something that brushed against her, that whispered in the depths of her mind. There were no words, but the sensation was clear: it wanted to dominate her, to possess her completely. The tension in her body was just a horrible reflection of what was happening inside.

Her bones dislocated, only to return to their intact state almost immediately thanks to her regeneration. She could feel her muscles twisting, causing cramps she had never felt before. Every so often, an image would assault her mind—flashes of strange faces, distorted voices, and figures she had seen in her worst nightmares. Then her memories would merge with something unknown.

And she knew. Those memories were the recollections of those who had perished there. How long had this place been claiming victims? Would she end up like them? Everything she had been, everything she knew, was crumbling. Was she the one fighting, or had she already been replaced?

The air grew thicker, and her breathing became irregular. The battle within her had no pause, and Lizbeth no longer knew how much time had passed. Hours? Minutes? Centuries? The walls of the cave came closer and then receded from her, as if they were breathing, but in reality, it wasn't the rocks that were closing in. It was the foreign consciousness surrounding her, sinking her into her own being like a black, viscous mass that grew with every second, feeding off her fear, her pain, and the slow disappearance of her identity. Who was she now? What was left of Lizbeth when everything that defined her was vanishing?

The internal struggle seemed to lessen for a moment, as if something had changed in the air, as if the entity that possessed her had paused to observe her.

Lizbeth, still trembling, heard a low murmur, like a whisper that froze her blood. There were no voices, only images, concepts that formed in her mind in a way she could not describe, but that she felt as if the words were being carved into her soul.

And then, Lizbeth's mouth spoke. But it was not her speaking.

"How did you get here, girl of the earth?" asked the entity, its voice cold, distant, but infiltrating every corner of her being, stripping her consciousness bare.

Lizbeth, with a lump in her throat and fear paralyzing her, tried to respond. Her voice seemed not to be her own, as if each word was being torn from her chest to answer. "I... was looking for someone..." she replied, unsure if those words made any sense. "I found this place... through the compass... It showed me the way."

Her eyes shut tightly, as if that could prevent what was happening from reaching her bones, but it was useless. The entity didn't need her to open her eyes to see everything within her. But if that was the case, why was it asking?

Once again, memories materialized before her, but this time, they were not just hers; she was reliving Shin's memories. Those moments of her life with him—love, pain, loss... Everything was now accessible to this foreign force, and the pain of those images was multiplied a thousandfold.

"Ah, yes... him," the entity whispered through Lizbeth's mouth, with what sounded like an empty laugh. "Your mate. Your man. Your beloved. Tell me, girl of the earth... Do you seek him because you need him? Or is it simply an excuse, a justification, to keep living in a world that has no justification to exist…"

The question fell upon her like an unbearable weight. What did that mean? Lizbeth shuddered, her breath quickening, and fear seized her mind, her whole being. The word "need" echoed in her mind, and every second seemed to stretch into an endless abyss. Did she need him? Had she been searching for him because she couldn't live without him? Or was it simply her way of escaping the emptiness of the world, the reality that perhaps no longer made sense? Every word from this creature tore at her, and for a moment, Lizbeth felt that she had no answer.

"I see... Do you know, girl of the earth?" the entity said, its voice sneaking into every corner of her mind like poison, soft but lethal. "Your relationship with him... it's a cycle, isn't it? You come and go, you meet and then separate, over and over, as if you're condemned to this eternal back-and-forth. What's behind this absurd game? What are you really looking for, girl of the earth? Do you believe that the love you share with him is something real, or is it just an illusion? The meeting, the separation, the reunion... always the same pattern. It's all so... empty."

Lizbeth shuddered, feeling each word as a direct blow to her soul. She couldn't help but remember those moments: her first meeting with Shin, the anguish of their separations, the reunions always so intense, but the moment of departure was always sad, no matter how accustomed they had become to it.

What the hell does this thing know? Lizbeth furrowed her brow, feeling anger.

Lizbeth's mind was a whirlwind of images and sensations that mixed with the creature's words like a turbulent river. "No… n-n-o, it's not a game," she whispered, her voice trembling, but firm. "It's... l-love. Real love, even if... you don't understand it."

"Love? Is that... what you call love? Interesting. A different definition than the one I've seen before. True love... in an endless cycle, where farewells are as natural as encounters? Is that truly what you desire, child of earth? A love that always drags you back to the same place, over and over again, as if it were the only thing left for you in a world crumbling around you. What happens when that cycle breaks? What happens when one of you no longer returns? What would you do then? Could you move on, or would you fall into a void?"

Lizbeth felt a knot in her stomach. Fear began to take hold of her, but she refused to give in.

"I... I would keep... moving forward," she said, her voice steadier now. "If someday Shin doesn't return, if I can't find him... I'll keep looking. Because love isn't a cycle. It's... it's a bond that goes beyond life and death, beyond happy or s-sad moments. It's not something that ends just b-because we're not together at a given moment. No matter how much time passes, there will always be something that connects us. There will always be a reason to keep going."

The entity stopped speaking for a moment, as if considering her response, but Lizbeth didn't back down.

"You don't understand, do you?" she continued, her words carrying a strange, defiant air.

"That love... even if you try to deny it, you know deep inside what you fear most isn't losing him. What you really fear is losing. Yourself. In the process. Because without him, who would you be? What would you become? What would be left of you, Lizbeth, if you couldn't cling to that cycle, to that love that consumes you? Nothing. You'd be empty, just a shadow of what you once were. A shadow, like the bones you're now writhing in."

Despite the terror creeping through her, Lizbeth clung to her truth.

"No... that's n-not what I fear. What I fear is not living a full life. I'm not just a shadow of him. I'm my own person, with my own path."

There was silence. Long. Heavy. As if the entity were digesting her words. Finally, a whisper, barely audible, slipped into her mind.

"So stubborn... so very of this earth. But no matter what you say, child of the earth, you cannot escape your fate in this place. And in that fate... I will be waiting. Always. Always waiting. I can offer you the sweet rest of eternal sleep beside the ones you love while you die. That way, even if you never reach your goal in the waking world, in the world of dreams you'd have everything you want. Thousands of years in your perception... as you die and leave me your body."

But Lizbeth, soul twisted yet resolute, replied with a terrifying calm:

"T-Then... wait all you want. Because n-no matter how hard you fight... I will never let you take me."

"Is that all, then?" the creature said with disdain, its voice like a metallic whisper. "You speak of love as if it were something grand. A feeling so... so very of the children of earth. But what do you know of love, child of the earth? What do you know of that kind of sacrifice, when everything crumbles and you're left alone, waiting for a return that never comes?"

Lizbeth took a deep breath, eyes clenched shut, fighting the invasion in her mind. Hadn't it just asked her the same question a moment ago? Amid the chaos in her head, something sparked. Something in that conversation was giving her an idea. It seemed absurd, but if it was what she thought, there was a chance. She didn't know what it was, only that maybe she had a way out.

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She didn't have much time—if this continued, she'd fall forever. She'd become a pile of bones in that place.

Or maybe not.

If she was right… that thing wanted one thing.

Her permission.

She felt it gnawing at her memories like a rat. A spider weaving its web deep in her consciousness, and her soul was the juicy fly it wanted to devour and possess.

She understood. She understood.

With supreme effort, she looked at a small skull next to her. Feeling deep sorrow—but also a fierce admiration.

Everyone there had chosen to die rather than give that thing permission. Permission to take their bodies, so it could crawl back to the surface.

Feeling her throat tear as she spoke, she gave her answer.

"No... d-don't talk to me about sacrifice," she answered firmly. "Sacrifice is just an empty word if you don't understand what it means. Love is not just an emotion, it's a choice. A d-devotion. It's not something you can understand just by watching memories if you've never lived it—if you've never felt that need to give everything, no matter the cost."

"Devotion? Surrender? To whom? To him? Or that other girl? To that man who always leaves you, who drifts away and comes back as if nothing happened, chasing your lust? Is that what you really believe? Is that what you call surrender? That surrender where you open your legs and your mouth to receive the banal multiplication of lives doomed to the same end as their progenitors? That empty surrender, rutting like wild beasts.

So this is your great mystery. Your salvation."

The entity slithered through her mind as it took control of her body to speak. Its words no longer roared — now they slid like hot oil over skin.

"Love. Such a fragile concept. So many wars, so many piled bodies in its name. But at its core, isn't it just a need not to be alone? A chemical reflection to mask the fear of the void.

You say you love because you choose to. But I've seen how your hands tremble when they leave you. I've felt your soul shrink when they stop looking at you.

You say it's eternal, but every time you say it… you chant it like a spell to keep from drowning.

How many times did you do it out of obligation, out of habit, out of fear?

How many times did you give your body, heart absent, just because it was easier than facing the silence?"

They call it tenderness. They call it surrender. But all I see is an exchange: flesh for comfort, words for meaning. A ritual, yes... but without gods.

And you still believe that this language —the one of intertwined bodies, of whispered promises with closed eyes— means anything more than survival with lipstick.

Love? No, little one. What you feel is just desperation, dressed in poetry.

And when he leaves, when they forget you, when the flesh you touch no longer remembers your name… you'll keep repeating that spell.

Alone. Empty.

But still believing…

That is your most beautiful mistake."

For a few seconds, there was only silence, until Lizbeth managed to speak.

"Are you finished...?"

There was no answer. Only a pause, thick as night.

"Have you poured out all your bile, son of a bitch?

You understand nothing. Not because you can't... but because you won't.

Because if you did —if you let something true enter you, even a spark— that truth would shatter you. It would turn you to dust."

She sat up straighter, as if rage lent her a spine.

"Yes, I have loved people who didn't always stay. Yes, I've been abandoned. I've waited, I've searched, I've cried… and still, I chose to stay. I chose to love. Not out of need. Not out of habit.

Because every time, every damn fucking time, my heart wanted to.

You think you define me by naming my desires, my lovers, my mistakes? You t-think dirty words will reduce all that I am to a moaning shadow among ruins?

You're wrong.

I don't love to possess. I love to be free."

And yes, I've opened my body —but I've also opened my soul.

To those who deserved it.

To those who saw me, even when I couldn't see myself.

I don't regret it. I'm not ashamed.

Because loving —truly loving— isn't about opening your legs.

It's about opening your wounds. And still... not closing them. It's about showing your scars.

Saying: this is me. This was. And still choosing to give."

Lizbeth stood up —staggering, but standing nonetheless.

"If that's weakness... if that's madness... then yes, I'm weak. I'm mad.

But I am mine.

And you will never be."

Lizbeth raised her head and, without hesitation, added:

"It's not just about him, or his return, or his absence.

It's about me —about what I'm capable of giving.

Something you, who have never surrendered, have no right to judge.

True love is surrender, yes… surrendering yourself to someone.

Of giving your being—without holding back.

But it's surrender from strength, not from lack.

It doesn't matter how many people, if the feeling is sincere, love remains the same.

And even if you don't understand it —that makes me a lot better than you.

Because what matters is the value of what we give, not what we expect in return, you piece of shit."

The entity, seemingly confused by Lizbeth's words, began to search through her mind, probing beyond Shin's memories. It didn't stop at him—it dug deeper into every corner of her being, exploring fragments of her life, moments that perhaps hadn't been considered relevant. And that's when Lizbeth saw Mimi, that girl so different, so deeply hidden within her soul. Then came the faces of Rein and Noki, those two little feys who had witnessed so many stories and farewells, who to her were like beloved daughters. Friends, colleagues, those entwined with her in one way or another—and finally, the creature known as Shin.

The bonds Lizbeth had woven throughout her life.

Lizbeth saw how the thing fixated on Shin. And then—the compass.

The creature's thoughts darkened, and Lizbeth felt a slight relief from the torment. Was it working?

It searched through her memories, fixating on the idea Lizbeth had mentioned at the beginning—the one that had seemed the most uncertain: "that which is sought, or something similar." A shiver ran through the entity's awareness as its fragments scattered, trying to grasp the complexities of Lizbeth's mind. It looked at Shin, then at the others, trying to understand what Lizbeth's quest was based on, what had driven her down this path filled with loss and reunions. And then, as if arriving at some conclusion, the creature asked:

"Is this the one you truly sought? This being, this man?"

Lizbeth didn't hesitate, replying without faltering. Were her thoughts clearer now?

"No. What I seek is not just him. The compass I carry seeks what I want, what I desire—or something similar. At least, that's the story. It's not just about him. It points to what I wish to find, not merely what I imagine… and so, it gave me this location."

But then, as her own voice echoed in the creature's mind, she realized something else hung in the air.

"Something similar," the thing voice repeated, as if that idea had slipped past it. The creature had apparently stumbled upon something it could not process—something beyond its grasp. Lizbeth felt as if something had been torn from her brain. As if, all at once, someone had opened a wound and the pressure and heat in her head began to bleed away.

It was then that the shadow in her mind—like some terrible omen—suddenly withdrew, as if an insurmountable barrier had blocked its path.

It lasted only a moment—the instant she understood that the compass wasn't pointing to Shin, but to something similar, something that shared his signature, his echo, his residue in the fabric of the world—when she felt it.

A wrenching pull from deep within her gut, like an invisible cord snapping inward. It wasn't her who screamed, yet her throat burned with a dry, alien cry. Her back arched as if pierced by something unseen, and for a heartbeat, the world emptied of all sound, save for the hollow hum of terror. What had been clinging to her—whatever had latched on like a wet shadow—fled. It didn't leave. It fled. With the primal panic of a creature that has recognized its executioner. There was no doubt. What slept in those depths wasn't Shin… but it was similar enough to make a monster tremble.

The black mass began to dissolve, leaving Lizbeth's body with such speed that the very air seemed to tremble. As it exited, it resumed the texture of that golden sand, but now it spun wildly through the space like a furious tornado. The cave's air warped, and in an instant, everything turned to chaos.

Stones shifted, the ground cracked, and the echoes of a deafening rumble flooded the space. The cave, once silent, became a storm of despair. Everything that had remained hidden in that place now collapsed, as if the entity itself had shattered the fragile balance that had existed in that dark corner of the world.

Lizbeth, still trembling with fear, watched the scene with a mix of horror and awe as the space around her began to crumble.

Still overwhelmed by what had happened in the cave, she didn't waste a second. Taking advantage of the moment when the dark mass dissolved, instinct drove her to flee in haste.

The golden sand spun out of control, dragging with it rock, bones, rusted weapons—like something had thrown it into a frenzy.

Lizbeth thought of nothing else—not the pain still tormenting her, nor the fear she had felt. The only thought that filled her mind was escaping that place, getting away from that darkness that had tried to consume her.

She backed away several meters, retreating just as large masses of earth began to fall. She didn't look back. It felt like if she did, that thing would catch her. She reached the flashlight and, desperate, continued on, feeling behind her the world collapsing. Her lungs were burning, and the roar behind her thundered like a storm. Her throat was dry, and she was drenched in sweat.

She crawled and retraced her path; when she had to, she nearly ran like a cornered animal fleeing for its life. As she ran, her breath quickened and her heart pounded wildly, as if life itself were slipping through her fingers.

The cave was no longer a shelter, but a dangerous labyrinth that had nearly devoured her. Van, who had been waiting above, had descended. She saw Lizbeth approaching and ran to meet her. Lizbeth just shouted that they had to run. Van didn't argue—she could hear it too: the sound of the cave collapsing entirely behind them.

Both of them climbed rapidly to the surface. Behind them, a massive cloud of dust burst from the mouth of the cave like a giant yawning into the night sky.

The desert wind lashed their faces as they ascended the rocky slope, and the cool night air seemed to cut through the tension in the atmosphere.

"What the hell happened down there?!" Van shouted, furious.

Lizbeth trembled. "Let's get out of here. There's nothing here."

"What happened? Where's your water?"

Lizbeth looked around. She had lost almost all the equipment she had brought down. To hell with the rental gear. "I don't know…"

Van handed her the water, and Lizbeth drank it eagerly. It felt as though days had passed since she last drank. "How long was I down there?"

"A little over forty mins. You stopped answering me about ten minutes ago, and when I couldn't wait any longer, I started to go down."

"Let's go now!"

"But what happened?"

"Shin wasn't there. He was never there."

"But did you find something else? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"

Lizbeth simply turned around and looked at the cave entrance, finally collapsing in Van's arms.

"Let's go. This place isn't safe."

Lizbeth was sure that where she had been had collapsed. That common ossuary should be buried, and with it, whatever had tried to possess her. But that fine sand. That sand. It was so fine that maybe it could slip through the debris through some crack and reach the surface.

Despite the circumstances, Van tried to offer her a break, suggesting they rest for a moment before continuing, but Lizbeth, marked by the recent terror, refused. "No, we need to get out of here, now," she said, her voice hoarse, her eyes still full of panic. There was no time to rest or think anymore.

The desert, with its nighttime silence, seemed like the only path to safety.

The sun had already completely disappeared over the horizon, and darkness enveloped the desert landscape. The moon, like a distant presence, illuminated their path faintly, but it wasn't enough to mitigate the feeling that something might still be lurking in the vastness of the desert.

Lizbeth and Van walked in silence, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night. The feeling of helplessness grew as they moved farther from the place, and the sound of their footsteps seemed louder than it should have been, as if the desert itself wanted to trap them again. Lizbeth, despite the urgency she felt, couldn't help but glance back, looking for any sign of what was left behind.

Suddenly, the howl of a wolf broke the silence of the night, coming from somewhere far off, so distant it seemed to blend with the wind. Lizbeth stopped for a moment, listening attentively to the sound that rose up in the vastness of the desert. The lament of that wolf, like her own distress, was lost in the emptiness. The howl echoed in her ears, like a reminder that, even though she had escaped the cave, danger could still be buried beneath the earth.

"It can't end like this," she murmured to herself, as if the words had some power to exorcise the fear that consumed her. The desert, vast and silent, seemed like a place that held more secrets than she could ever imagine.

Two days passed. Three. Four.

On the fifth day, she returned in the morning with Van, to whom she had already told part of her experience inside.

They blew up the entrance to the cave with explosives. Then they poured a mixture over the remains that had been prepared by a mage who lived about one hundred kilometers away. By noon, it was as hard as rock, and they covered the parts that stuck out with some dirt to make it look more natural.

When they finally stopped to rest, Lizbeth took out the compass. Perhaps out of stubbornness, she still hoped the needle would point the way again, would repeat the lie with the same certainty it had shown before. But this time, the artifact trembled slightly in her hand… and then, as if it had lost its purpose, the needle began to spin aimlessly.

It didn't seek. It didn't find.

It no longer responded to the desire that had once guided it. It just turned, empty of meaning, refusing to follow any direction. Lizbeth understood then that even an artifact crafted to read the ley lines couldn't reach Shin. Not if he had vanished beyond what the world could touch.

The compass spun without purpose, but Lizbeth's heart refused to follow lies. Better the wound of truth than the comfort of shadows.

Before the sun started to set, they left and never returned to that place again.

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