Hearthsoul Chronicles 05 Day's past

The ground dotted with white light; lambs. These lights were carried by slaves moving to certain parts of the chasm before proceeding to the stones.

By now, the previous calmness had drowned into the hamring of tal against stone. Many slaves groaned at their work. None spoke of anything. They were all miners, and mining was all they did.

I lost a friend that day….the darkness had swallowed him.—Transcribed from a lowly miner, and kept in the archives of the Gresendent sisters.

Ti grew vague. rrin in the passing of monts, realized how unaware be was to it. There was only him and the stone. With each strike, he hoped for sothing—anything. Oredite, eltium, or even a asly iron. Anything that presented a chance out from the gorge. But no matter the strength used, the ti wasted, he knew only dust.

This is impossible. He thought, frivolous.

"Ahh!"

A voice cried, pulling awareness from daze. He turned to it. Staring out into the left edge of the chasm. A man hung there, chains held, screaming.

Breath froze. The man, unknown, held the chains, the ones tied around his waist had snapped off. He dangled like old rag, one that would be blown away by the faintest winds. Black servs had already begun swarming around him

He was going to die!

Even from a distance, rrin saw. Aided by the wall buzzing lamps, he peered in. The chains, rusted, brown and old. They would snap at any mont, he knew this. Sa too did he realize the congruence shared amongst the other chains. All except his. Was he just lucky?

Sobody should help him?

But who could? The chasm was wide, chains as long as they admitted lacked in the needed size. No ans existed to reach him. And even if they could, the added weight would snap theirs. Death to both saviour and saved. The second chance of saving the man was the Excubitors.

rrin wasn't sure, but perceived mory told of the n as stronger than normal. Caster things. Maybe such strength would be able to save the slave…The procession broke. Would they?

The man scread, the sound of voice silencing the louder banging of stones and iron. rrin felt this that way. Many of the rest had retrieved attention from the man—all of them shifted focus to various tasks. Anything that wasn't the troubled Slave. rrin too was to do the sa…he knew he was to. Was he?

Another death, what does it even matter? he thought. Maybe it's better, he will get to the almighty before …

The man struggled against the chains, arms dripping blood into the depths of the darkness.

"Help!" he scread. None answered.

rrin glanced at his own chains. New. If I didn't take this, would he have survived? He thought, Yes…Because of , he's dying now.

He was to to turn his head when suddenly an audible snap echoed through the cave. A short scream followed and then a muffled thud. rrin froze. He would not see the body…

He did sothing I couldn't. He thought, a cold tear streaming down his cheeks.

Coward. he cursed himself.

The wall before him had markings of strikes, so parts rough and steeper than the rest. Against his better desires, rrin raised the pickaxe.

This was his life now. An endless pursuit of nothing but rust, iron and dust. Day one, he had done nothing else, and instead sat on highstone staring out into the vast conclave of spiral holes, deprecated buildings and hollow eyes. Soon, he would be like that. He felt it an inevitable thing—a waiting that was sure to end.

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There was no worth to him, nothing. In the end, each day, he raised his axe and pounded the walls. His food? He was lucky—perhaps punishnt for what he had done, but , he always found leftover. Odd, yes. After all, in such a place, how did one leave food?

But he wouldn't question it. He didn't have the right to. Just to pound the axe into the wall, while hoping, each day to die…He was a coward in the end, all he could do was hope.

It never ca.

rrin groaned, hands tensing as he climbed using the chains. Lucky him…Six slaves had died today trying to scale up. And here he was, making it safely. How dreadfully detestable.

Why don't I just let go? he looked down, noting the vast chasm, the silhouettes of moving miners, and the shadows birthed by the lamps. It was so far away.

He felt cold. A horribly freezing cold.

Coward.

Again today…The saness possessed him. A coward who sohow ended up with the best chains. Again.

It was like a curse; to live while others died.

He continued to climbing. Soon, reaching the rim of the chasm, his hands stretched out, grabbing the blazing floor. He winced at the pain, yet managed to pull himself up, panting, head laced with sweat. Even his sleeves were now a march of ruin, dirt and sour scent. He slled funny, and not like the goodness of ash…just different. Bad different.

He hated it.

Legs buckled, slamming against the floor. When was he this tired? He didn't know. Wasn't he used to this by now? How long has it been, two days? Three? Was the fear what was keeping his energy fervent?

Looking down, rrin saw his hands shake…Stop shaking! He felt like shouting out his words. Perhaps only then would his body hear them. What was the point of trembling now? After all that, what good was fear to anyone?

Still, what was he being afraid of? Didn't he want to die? Didn't he want to rid himself of the things he had done? Wasn't eternal peace in the Almighty what he wanted?

I want all that…But I don't want to die to get it. tears stread down. A voice beckoning at the back of his mind. He knew that voice, it was the one that reminded him of his cowardliness. Look at him, even after all he had done, all that he had lost, all that he had taken, he still wanted sothing…What did he even deserve when he was so worthless?

I deserve nothing. I can't protect anything. If anything, I just take and take… he looked down at the chains snaking down from the waist. He had taken that too, and that had cost a man his life. And even after so long, he was still getting it. The chain felt like a curse, one that kept returning to him, culling the lives of others.

He kneeled there in silence. His silence. As the world around him cared little to quiet down for him. He remained for a couple more minutes, then looked up. A line was steadily forming.

Standing up, cleaning his eyes of the daily tears, he walked towards the slave line. They had arranged in a single file, slowly shuffling towards sothing. He wasn't sure exactly. This was new. However, each ti soone reached the front, they ca out lips wet. Satisfied. At least at the level that counted.

Water! He needed so. As Improbable as it may seem, but even after days in the mines, this was the first ti he saw water. Most tis, he just licked the sweat that bled out from his skin.

Quickly, he joined the line. And as he did, the scent of musk ca pouring into his nose. It physically itched to breathe, and that was odd, considering he was accustod to such scents. The ash mountains were quite crowded as well. But here, it was different.

Maybe it was the bleakness, the sheer overwhelming number or sothing else. Whatever it was, it made his stomach churn…He suddenly frowned, looking around, noticing sothing.

Outside the murmurs, the distant and close bangs of iron against stone. There was nothing else ...No servs!

They removed the servs? How? The servs were the eyes of the Almighty, how could they leave it out? He winced. These people and their use of the Almighty's power.

Are you any better? He closed his thoughts and simply trudged on. Just then he realized sothing: the servs were like humans in a way, they too often got bored of the sa things. So likely, it wasn't so casted power that took them, it was simply the mundaneness of the mines' emotions. Probably having nothing but bleakness all day got stifling at so point.

By the side, seated on high stones, many of the scrapers had gathered in groups, grousing about their life…the forlornness of it all. So dim yellow servs dotted around them. They were happy? What was there to be happy in here? He wondered.

Though it seed a small order was gradually forming. So maybe happiness in the unity?

Either way, such groups had been forming for days now. Luckily, rrin had kept his distance from the convergence.

This was the only way he could…Protect them.

Soon, his turn ca. Before him was a big barrel placed atop a three-legged wooden chair. It had many froststones embedded around it, keeping the still water inside cold.

He took up a wet cup beside the table—dipping it inside the slightly disturbed water. It felt only warm. Thankfully. He had once drunk one that was searing, except that was the ash mountains and not the mines. Bringing the cup close to his lips, he heaved the rotten scented water. It slt like eggs. Rotten eggs.

Just what I deserve.