The screams choking the air seem to already echo in his memory, but Wilhelm can't remember where they come from. His footsteps falter and freeze for a second, before Kell's momentum drags him back into motion. All that holds him together is adrenaline, like duct tape and a few paperclips keeping some broken contraption running. His heart knocks around in his chest. His blood pounds in his ears. He collapses his focus to Kell's voice. To Kell's feet cutting a path. To Kell's grip on his hand — however much the sores covering his skin sting, that pressure acts as a tether for him.

They scramble among the rocks, stumbling over the gnarled roots of dead trees. In the dark, they can hardly see the chunks of the cavern crashing down until the second they're about to strike.

"Watch it!" Wilhelm yells, yanking Kell back just as a shard of stone the size of their heads falls into their path.