Alex's hand gripped around her wrist with an iron grip. His other hand, still wrapped in the rope, burned as the platform jerked to a violent halt. His shoulder screamed, ligaments tearing, muscle fiber snapping.

  “Iris!” He screamed, holding on. The platform surged upward, tilting. “don't do this…!”

  Iris hung suspended below him, her weight pulling his arm from its socket. She stared up at him, eyes wide. The resolve in his gaze wasn't hope or bravery. It was something deeper. A profound, stubborn refusal.

  It reminded her of someone from long ago. A memory etched in sadness and determination.

  The creature shrieked below. Fifty meters. Closing.

  The rope began to snap. The platform jerked. Tilted more.

  “Let go, Alex.” Her voice was grave.

  Thirty meters. The creature approached slowly now, stalking. The platform jerked again. Alex's hand neared its limit. He bit his lip, fighting agony in his arms, his legs… everywhere.

  “Alex… it's okay.” Iris's voice was low. “Let go.”

  He looked at her. Then at the rope. It snapped again, threads thinning. Letting her go meant he'd survive. Letting the rope go meant they both die.

  He didn't let go. He held both.

  With a roar torn from his core, he pulled. The platform surged upward. A hot, tearing agony exploded in his shoulder, still he didn’t let go.

  “We’ll get there,” he snarled, every word a strain. “… I’ll get us there!”

  She stopped fighting and held on.

  The rope screamed. Strands of frayed fiber snapped like whip cracks, lashing Alex's cheek. Blood mixed with sweat. His grip slipped an inch. Then another.

  ‘No. No, no, no’

  He pulled. Not with strength, there was none left. He pulled with something else. Something that lived beneath the exhaustion, beneath the fear. His vision tunneled to the rope in his hands, to Iris's pale face below, to the shrieking horror climbing toward them.

  His arms were dead weight. His shoulder was a knot of tearing fire. But he held.

  The platform lurched. Creaked. Rose.

  One inch. Two. The rope groaned, its last threads glowing white under the strain. Alex didn't breathe. He couldn't, his entire existence narrowed to the burning coil wrapped around his fists and the woman hanging from his grip.

  ‘don't let go.’

  The words weren't a thought. Rather a pulse. A breath, they were the only thing keeping him conscious.

  Another pull. The edge, so close, scraped against the platform's lip. Alex threw his weight backward, dragging Iris up with him, and collapsed onto cold stone as the rope behind him snapped, its severed end whipping into empty air.

  They spilled onto the top just as the creature’s claw hooked over the edge. Alex dragged Iris clear, rolling them both onto cold stone. No time to breathe.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The thing heaved itself onto the ledge. It was massive. A horror of sagged flesh and exposed sinew, its unnatural body low to the ground, its remaining six limbs clicking against the rock. Four on its left side. Two on its right. It moved with a lopsided, staggering gait. It was limping.

  Just like him.

  Alex's hand went to his back. To the sheath. Empty. The sword was Lost. Lost at sea.

  The creature lunged. Alex shoved Iris sideways and threw himself the other way, its claws gouging stone where he'd stood. He rolled, painfully scrambled to his feet, and limped. He ran, not away, but toward the thing. His fists were all he had.

  With his good leg, he slammed his boot into its wounded left flank. The impact traveled up his foot, through his knee, into his spine, a shock of dull, distant pain.

  The creature shrieked and pivoted, its narrow head snapping toward him. Needle-teeth clicked, a rapid, wet percussion. Pale eyes burned.

  The fight was brutal.

  He dodged. A claw swept past his ribs, close enough to part fabric. He struck, fist against armored sagged skin. His knuckles split. Blood slicked his fingers. He struck again. And again. Each blow a dull, useless thud against flesh that refused to break.

  The creature caught him. Another swept across his chest, sent him crashing into the rock wall.

  BANG.

  His vision exploded into white light. The taste of blood was constant now, thick on his tongue. He tried to push himself up. His leg buckled. His other leg, the one that had been screaming since the lake was silent.

  He couldn't feel it anymore.

  His heart pounded, a dull, thrumming bass in his eardrums. His vision swam, unfocused, as he looked down at his leg. It was still there. But it wasn't. Like the limb had been severed from his body and simply... left behind.

  He looked at Iris. Unconscious. Pale and dying.

  Then at the abomination. The creature approached. Looming over him, blotting out the blue sky. Its maw opened wide, rows of teeth glistening with strings of viscous saliva that stretched and snapped in the cold air.

  It raised a claw. Brought it down. The impact across his chest lifted him clean off the stone. He flew, his back struck the cliff edge. Alex groaned, coughing blood, warm, wet, spattering his chin.

  For a moment, just a brief, merciful moment his vision went blank. Then he found himself staring down. Down at the drop. Down at the fall waiting to swallow him whole.

  ‘Is this... is this it?’

  Death. The only thought left in his skull.

  The creature approached. Slowly now. Limping on its remaining limbs. Savoring. Its pale eyes never left him.

  He couldn't move. His body was done.

  The creature's claw turned him, forcing him to see death before it came. Its maw opened wide, rows of needle-teeth glistening with anticipation. The smell of rot and old blood washed over Alex's face in warm waves.

  ‘Am.. going to die.’ Alex stared at it, his gaze distant and heavy.

  Thoughts slowed. From fear, from acceptance, he didn't truly know. All he hoped for was that somehow, he would wake. But waking meant not finishing what he started. And if he didn't finish, what would happen to Iris?

  ‘I was supposed to be a god here.’

  The thought surfaced from somewhere deep, somewhere that still remembered the system's cold voice in his skull. He heard his own breathing. Shallow and wet. Each inhale a rattle.

  ‘This is my dream. Isn't it?’

  The creature's shadow fell over him, its teeth clicked, inches from his face.

  Then, a whisper. Not from the creature. Not from the wind, but from within:

  "Would you like to trade a memory for power?"

  The voice was calm. Ancient and familiar.

  Power.

  The word struck him like a blade. He didn't stop to think. Didn't stop to care. If power meant…

  "Yes," he gasped. "Give me power."

  A beat of silence.

  Then the world liquefied.