Dan's body lunged into the void in a moment that gave him no chance to understand what had happened. But the fall did not end immediately as one might expect. Instead, it turned into a long, harsh, uneven descent—his body striking the ground, then sliding, his shoulder slamming against small stones, his knee scraping against the dry soil. Every time he tried to steady himself, the ground broke apart further beneath his feet, until he reached a steeper edge where nothing could stop him. His body slipped downward completely—until his hand shot out instinctively, blindly, and caught onto the branch of a small tree growing from the side of the slope.
The fall stopped suddenly. Violently.
His body jerked, swung slightly, then hung there in the air—suspended between above and below, between survival and falling.
The branch was not thick. It was not stable. It bent under his weight, trembling with every movement. His other hand still clutched the small dog, which did not understand what was happening. It let out soft, broken sounds, struggling and shifting, adding more strain to Dan's arm.
Below him, the valley stretched into a terrifying depth—a wide space of tangled trees, their branches interwoven, their leaves dense. A narrow river cut through the rocks below, glinting faintly, its sound distant but clear enough to remind him that the fall would not stop at the trees… it would continue.
Dan raised his head with difficulty, trying to fix his gaze upward. But his eyes could not ignore the depth beneath him. Every time he looked down, his grip trembled, and his fingers tightened harder around the branch.
Dan: "Tina… I'm scared…"
His voice was weak, broken, coming out between uneven breaths.
Tina reached the edge. Her run stopped abruptly, as if the ground itself had halted her the moment she saw him—her brother hanging by one hand, his body swaying, the dog in his arm, and the branch he held offering no sense of safety.
Tina: "Don't look down!"
She shouted sharply, her voice cutting through the air, trying to hold him together before he fell apart.
Tina: "Look at me only! Hold on!"
She took a step forward—then immediately stepped back when she felt the ground beneath her shift. The edge was unstable, loose, ready to collapse. She could not get any closer without risking falling herself.
Dan: "I can't… my hand…"
His voice shook. His fingers were weakening. But something inside him—something from that fruit he had eaten earlier—still gave him strength he hadn't had before. He tightened his grip, trying to hold himself steady. But his weight, the movement of the dog, the shaking branch—everything was against him.
Tina: "Wait! Don't move! I'll go get Mom!"
She didn't wait for an answer. She turned and ran. Her footsteps were fast, uneven, her breathing breaking with every cry.
Tina: "Mom! Mom!"
Inside the hut, Kael was still in his tight hiding place, his eyes fixed on the basket in the mother's hand, watching every movement, every step she took—
until he heard it.
A sound.
Distant at first.
Then clearer.
A child's scream. Repeated. Filled with panic.
He raised his head slightly.
"What is that…?"
He didn't move.
He listened.
This was not a normal sound.
It was a cry for help.
Then Tina appeared, running toward her mother, stopping in front of her, breathless, barely able to speak.
Tina: "Dan… fell!"
The mother froze.
Shock crossed her face without resistance.
Mother: "What?!"
Tina: "He's hanging… there… at the edge!"
She didn't think.
She didn't ask.
The basket fell from her hand. It flipped, rolled—two fruits slipped out and settled on the ground, gleaming. But her eyes never turned toward them.
She ran.
With everything she had.
Tina followed.
Their voices faded.
The place fell silent.
The two fruits remained.
Clear.
Close.
And in that moment—
Kael moved.
One step.
Slowly.
His eyes fixed on the fruits.
But his body did not follow.
Because something else happened.
He stopped.
His breathing changed.
This time, the sound did not come from outside.
It came from within him.
"Kael—…"
He lifted his hand to his head slowly.
Pressed.
His eyes widened.
"Kael… help me…"
He froze.
His body no longer responded.
He closed his eyes.
"Not now…"
he whispered.
But the voice did not stop.
"I'm falling… Kael!"
His body trembled.
The voice was not unfamiliar.
It was known.
Too known.
The scene blurred before him—the hut, the ground, the fruits—everything faded, replaced by something else.
An edge.
A reaching hand.
And a scream.
"Kael!"
He pressed his head harder.
"No…"
But the voice grew louder.
"Save me!"
He shut his eyes tightly.
"Why now…?"
His breathing quickened.
"Why am I hearing this now…?"
He opened his eyes suddenly.
The scene returned.
The hut.
The ground.
The two fruits.
But nothing was the same anymore.
He stood frozen.
Not moving.
Between two voices—
The child outside…
And the past inside him.