“You listen to me RIGHT now Zadahn Vali, because I am NOT going to repeat myself. You will NEVER under ANY circumstances enter my Work-Room or its contents no matter WHAT, because if you do they’ll be the last thing you see.”


    These words from his mother echoed through the young boy’s head as he reached the bottom of the long and winding staircase, trying his best to avoid her attention. With light feet, he avoided creaking the floor as he traversed the narrow corridor hallway of his industrial cabin. He walked past shelves of his mother’s unfinished crochet projects and disorganized books, while she sat above him upstairs, working on more recent patchwork endeavors. As far as she knew, the boy was asleep. Eventually, he approached the doorway to his mother’s Work-Room, as she called it.


    Sheer curiosity overwhelmed the boy, as he hastily reached into the left pocket of his jet-black academy uniform pants. He pulled out a thin needle he borrowed from his mother’s works in progress. The boy said a silent prayer to himself, then held the needle close to his eyes. Holding each end with each hand, he concentrated his gaze thoroughly on the needle. For just a moment, the boy’s eyes flash a blinding yellow, and the needle is softened by the heat of the precise amount of Thunder, allowing him to shape it into a key.


    Once the metal cooled, the boy admired his precision. Somewhat confidently, he inserted the key into the lock, said another prayer, and twisted.


    He pushed the door open ever so slightly; just enough so he could fit through. The hinges of the door groaned loudly, and in a fit of anxiety, the boy slid through the tiny opening into the pitch-black room. With equal parts caution and speed, he carefully closed the door behind him. The boy, unaware of his surroundings, felt out the ground before taking every step. With his hand outstretched, he followed the wall around the room until he found what he was looking for. Eventually, the boy''s hand touched a lever. In a sigh of relief, he pulled the lever down. The room was quickly illuminated by four dim torches in each corner of the room. The flames brought an instant warmth with them.


    He turned around from the planked walls of the freshly lit room with unbridled anticipation. Before him sat a massive golden-colored roundtable in the center of the room, with feather pens lying on what looked to be a vast map. To its left, stood a colossal iron bookshelf. The length of it was adorned with ancient-looking inscriptions, and the shelves held more books than the boy’s brain could comprehend. It was packed as tight as possible with unlabeled, worn, black books. As his eyes followed the bookshelf upwards, he noticed that the height of the room dwarfed the rest of the house in comparison. On the other end of the room is a small cot. There is nothing but emptiness to the right of the bed, other than a bare desk, and no chair.


    Despite the overwhelming surroundings, his attention was immediately drawn to one peculiar book. It wasn’t black, but rather a withered shade of blue. He walked to the lower right corner of the bookshelf, observing it closely. The boy’s eyes widened with excitement as he read the title of it. Immediately, he lifted up his academy uniform shirt and shoved the book under it. He felt a sharp chilling sensation as the cold leather of the book made contact with his warm and uneasy stomach.


    This raw excitement was quickly interrupted by the realization that he had spent too much time dawdling. Without a second thought, the boy, with unparalleled wariness, returned to his room, as carefully and meticulously as he entered. Feeling an overwhelming sense of euphoria, he quickly closed and locked his bedroom door. He sprawled over his messy twin bed, holding the peculiar blue book up to the moonlight with his two pale arms. The boy’s insatiable curiosity led him to read the entire night, gripped by the contents within. He learned of a decaying underwater city that was drowned by angry, cruel gods, and whirlpools that bridge our world and those that lie below his. This city was said to have unheard riches and treasure. The kind of treasure that would fund a family for generations to come.


    However, the boy also read of monsters and horrors so incomprehensibly sinister, that not even such treasures were an acceptable incentive to explore this wasteland. By the time dawn broke, the boy had discovered a true passion for the world beneath our own.


    The morning was particularly freezing, even for winter. Despite the harshness of the weather, nothing was affected within the industrial inferno of the Ignition Union’s island, Miner’s Landing. The boy and his mother were well protected from a cold, and untimely death, by the fiery wastes that lie deep beneath the dirt. Through technological innovation, the heat from these caves fuels all of Miner’s Landing. The boy’s room was filled with a piercing orange light, and with it came a welcoming sense of nostalgia. Reclined on his bed, he finished reading the forbidden book he had stolen from the Work-Room. He felt a twinge of guilt for having blatantly disobeyed his mother’s words.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    His mother worked in the harsh and dangerous conditions of the Saramaed Summit beneath Miner’s Landing, the economic strongpoint of the Ignition Union. It’s these caves that make it one of the major powers of the Eastern Luminent. Within that boiling summit the boy’s mother toiled daily. In these caverns, the Ignition Union mines ores and gems with the assistance of their giant machinations. However, some of these creations provide more worry than they do assistance. Perhaps that’s a story for another time. Even at the age of 12, the deadly implications were understandable to the boy. Although her conditions were perilous at best, she still made amazing wages. They lived a comfortable life between her long hauls in the volcano. Still, there were times when she brought that inferno home with her.


    The boy''s feelings of guilt were soon forgotten, as he continued to fantasize about his readings. He had to ask. He had to confirm his dreams; to know if they were true, if he could truly venture to these places and achieve these riches, and see these wonders through his own gaze. A true spark had ignited in the boy’s heart. He jolted up from his bed, opened his door, and stormed down the stairs. The boy ran to the engraved oakwood table his mother was sitting at, and immediately took a seat in front of her.


    “Are they true?”


    The boy’s white hair was quite blinding in the morning sun, and his cheeky grin made his passion obvious. His eyes, one purple and one golden, were as wide as can be.


    The mother didn’t avert her gaze from her hands and fiddled away with her yarn. Despite being focused, she made a brief attempt to acknowledge her son. “Is what true?” She asked in a cold, annoyed tone.


    The boy revealed the book he was holding behind his back and presented it to her.


    “These tales of underwater cities full of drowned monsters, tons of money, and brave people who go on expeditions to these underwater cities to fight those monsters!” He exclaimed, almost running out of breath.


    The room went completely still. A few seconds passed before a look of disappointment appeared on her face. After another moment, that look gradually turned into something fiercer. Her eyebrows furrowed deep, her eyes widened, and her upper lip curled. Before she could rampage, he abruptly shouted-.


    “Mom. Please, I just want to know. I’m old enough to know these truths. You know I''m strong, I''ve proved it countless times!”


    “Stand up, Zadahn.” She said in an all too familiar tone as she set down her needles.


    “I’m sorry mo-.” The boy started before she swiftly slapped him across his face. Blood gushed from his nose and his eyes began to water. His mother’s eyes flashed with immediate regret.


    “I HATE YOU!”


    The boy screamed at the top of his lungs as tears began to fall. He quickly bolted out the door. The mother extended her hand outward, reaching after him.


    “Zadahn! You weren’t supposed to read that! I told you! I’m sorry! I''m so sorry! ” She said as tears streamed down her cheek. She readied herself to chase him down, but he was long gone.


    Zadahn ran until he couldn’t run anymore, unwilling to look behind him in fear of his mother’s punishment. He’s snapped back to his consciousness by an odd whispering he heard in the distance.


    ”?R??e??s??o??n?a??t??e?. ?R??e??s??o??n?a??t??e?. ?P??l??u??c??k? ?t??h??i??n??e? ?e??y??e??s? , ?A??s??c??e??n??d? ?t??h??y? ?b??l??o??o??d?.”


    The boy had a puzzled look on his face, unable to comprehend the meaning of these whispers. All he knew for sure was that the words reminded him of the book. Whether out of genuine curiosity or a need to flee farther, he pursued the voices. Relentlessly, he chased in the direction of the whispers, finding himself in a vast expanse of towering oak wood trees, and large mountains of rocks. For a moment the voices stopped, and he examined his surroundings closely. These rocks seemed to be in an intentional formation, forming a circle. There was a colossal mountain of stone to his left that reminded him of a fang. Upon closer inspection, there seemed to be an entrance to a cave of sorts. A massive overarching shadow enveloped the entrance of the cavern, so the only way to see inside was to get closer. Approaching the cave, the whispers resumed with ramping intensity.


    “?A??c??h??i??e??v??e? ?r??e??s??o??n?a??n??c??e?, a??s??c??e??n??d? ?f??r??o??m? ?m??o??r??t?a??l??i??t??y?.”


    The boy wandered into the cave, moving unconfidently, but still clear in his goal of finding the source of these whispers. Just like he did the night before, he followed the walls until he found something of interest. He then noticed, far in the distance, an odd blue light coming from a column of rock pillars. He began walking towards the light, eventually breaking into a sprint and the whispers reached their peak.


    “?B??e??h??o??l??d?, ?t??h??e? ?p??r??i??c??e? ?o??f? ?u??n??w??o??r??t??h??i??n??e??s??s?.”


    The young boy stopped in his tracks in utter fear, his purple and gold eyes widening at the ghastly sight before him. A headless corpse, dressed in a dark grey cloak and large black boots was before him. Next to the body was an ornate chest, already opened. From that chest, an ominous azure misty light emitted from its interior.


    Despite the grisly sight, he swallowed his fear out of sheer curiosity, and stood directly above the open chest, feet inches away from the body.


    The whispers come to an abrupt halt.


    With his trembling hand, the boy reaches down into the blinding light in the chest swiftly, flinching as if he expected the chest would deliver him the same fate. Beginning to feel his trembling palms touch a strange object within, he retracts his closed hand with the item inside.


    “Please don''t kill me!” The boy whispered to himself as he closed his eyes in fear, and nervously opened his hands.


    After a few seconds of silence, and after feeling nothing changing, the boy opened his hand to find an odd, blue-green idol made of a foreign metal, in the shape of a key. Puzzled, and somewhat disappointed in what he saw, the boy reluctantly shoved the idol into his pocket. Making sure to avoid the corpse, the boy carefully found his way to the exit.


    Zadahn approached the exit of the cave, immensely anxious about returning to his mother. Visions of her heavy hand plagued his mind as he crept nervously through the exit. The odor of blood and stone was finally replaced with the soothing air of the forest. As he glanced into the sky, he noticed nightfall was approaching. He knew the sun set early in winter, but he could have sworn he was only gone for a moment. Regardless, he needed to return home to prevent further punishment.


    As the boy frantically jogged home, with the sun on the horizon, he began to hear a faint whisper from the idol in his pocket.


    He stopped momentarily, to turn around. He glanced one final time at the cave, and reached into his pocket, pulling out the idol. Moving it up to his ear, his gaze hardened as he focused on listening to its whispers.


    ?”Y??o??u? ?h?a??v??e? ?r??e??s??o??n?a??t??e??d?.?” Whispered the idol.