With the glyphlight now casting its protective glow, the oppressive weight of the Abyss receded—if only slightly. The whispers dulled to a murmur, and the boys' vision stopped swimming with infernal illusions. Their mining efficiency improved, though they still needed to rest at regular intervals to avoid the voices becoming overwhelming again.
Tinkwick hopped down from his perch on the boulder, brushing dust from his gloves.
"Alright," he said, slipping the ore back into his mining basket. "Time to go deeper."
Suren and Rickon clutched their knees, sweat streaking their dirt-covered faces as they struggled to breathe evenly.
"Wait—deeper?" Suren asked between gasps.
"Yes, deeper," Tinkwick replied with a wide, unsettling grin. "This was just the introduction. A warm-up, if you will. You need to acclimate before we get to the real mining sites."
He turned and began walking, his lamp bobbing like a flickering heart in the gloom. Reluctantly, the two boys followed, each step a protest from their tired limbs.
As they descended, the brass lamp's protective light began to shrink in radius. The deeper they went, the darker it became—and the stronger the whispers. They slithered back into the boys' minds, clawing at the edges of their thoughts with half-formed temptations and maddening secrets.
Along the way, the scenery twisted into the surreal: patches of moss that glowed a sickly violet; veins of ore that pulsed like veins beneath skin; rocks shaped like infants, their expressions frozen in agony or bliss.
The boys kept close to Tinkwick, their eyes wide, breath tight in their chests.
Suddenly, small, twisted figures skittered out from the crevices in the walls—short humanoid creatures with large, lidless eyes and leathery gray skin. Their limbs were too long for their bodies, and their mouths split sideways into unsettling grins.
The creatures lunged.
"Imps," Tinkwick said, unfazed. He reached into his coat and flung a handful of powder that shimmered in the air before igniting in a flash of light. The imps shrieked and fled, their forms dissolving into ash.
"Lowest form of demons," he added. "Don't worry. They're pests, but manageable. So long as you stay close, you'll be fine."
Rickon whimpered and moved even closer, practically clinging to Suren.
Suren, though still shaken, forced himself to keep his eyes forward, his grip tightening on his pickaxe.
At their new mining site, the clanging of pickaxes against stone offered no relief from the whispers. If anything, they seemed to grow louder, more insistent. The black marks on their skin had grown larger, writhing slightly as if alive. The boys were forced to stay within arm's reach of the glyphlight, its waning glow their only shield.
Even Tinkwick seemed affected now—his usually flickering mark burned steadily as he pulled down his goggles and got to work. He crushed ores into powder with mechanical precision, casting lines of protection against the circling imps. His mining basket sat open beside him, leaving it for them to fill. Suren and Rickon worked frantically, the pressure to complete their task before madness overtook them pushing them to the edge.
Then, Rickon paused, his pickaxe held mid-swing. Before him lay a strange ore—perfectly round, smooth, and unnaturally symmetrical. A swirling mist of pale light danced within it like a trapped storm.
He didn't move.
Suren, curious, reached out and picked it up. The moment he touched it, a radiant pulse shot out, dispersing the whispers around them in a five-meter radius. The oppressive air lightened, and even the cold ache in their bones seemed to ease.
Tinkwick snapped his head around. His goggles flared as he locked eyes on the stone.
"HEY—HEY—lower that! Let me see it!" he shouted, practically tripping over himself as he sprinted toward them on short, frenzied legs.
Suren lowered the stone, and Tinkwick practically leapt up to get a better look. When he saw it clearly, he let out a giddy whoop.
"Yes! YES!" he yelled, punching the air.
"What is it?" Suren asked, holding the stone carefully. Rickon leaned over his shoulder, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Tinkwick looked at them like they were both idiots.
"That," he said, pointing emphatically, "is an Awakening Stone!"
He threw his arms wide, nearly knocking over the mining basket. "I'm finally getting out of this cursed hole. Castles and maids—here I come!"
With a triumphant cackle, he snatched up the mining basket.
"Let's go!" he ordered, already storming toward the mine's exit.
"The abyssal influence and demon movement down here is far more than normal," Tinkerwick muttered only audible to himself.
Suren and Rickon scrambled to follow. As they moved, Suren tried to drop the glowing stone into the basket—but Tinkwick turned around sharply, his face a mask of horror.
"NO, no, no—you absolute dunce!" he shrieked, jumping up and swatting Suren's hand.
"You never just drop an Awakening Stone! If it touches a surface not part of Shinji's Altar, it activates immediately—and awakens whoever's holding it into a completely random profession!"
Suren's hand jerked back instinctively, the stone pulsing faintly in his palm.
Rickon stared at it with wide, terrified eyes. "So… we almost became toilet cleaners or something?"
"Exactly, I am sure you both want a combat profession" Tinkwick muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Now hold onto that like your soul depends on it. Because it just might."
As they arrived at the shallower levels of the mine, the professional miners around them paused their work, eyes widening at the sight of the glowing stone in Suren's hand. Tinkerwick slowed his pace, puffing out his chest and striding ahead with his hands folded behind his back like a noble on parade.
"Is that really an Awakening Stone?" murmured one miner.
"Damn lucky gnome," another grumbled.
"Where did they find it? Maybe I can head down there too," said a third, eyes fixed on the glow.
"Don't bother," the first replied. "Unless there's a fresh deposit, you'll only ever find one in a given area."
Suren and Rickon heard the whispers and felt the eyes on them—jealous, envious, reverent. Straightening their backs, they walked with newfound pride, heads high despite the shackles still locked around their necks.
At the lift, Tinkerwick activated the panel. As they ascended, the oppressive weight of the Abyss's influence steadily fell away, until the whispers were gone and the haze had lifted from their minds. They breathed deeply, each breath lighter than the last.
At the top of the shaft, Tinkerwick approached the mine supervisor, his demeanor more subdued now—serious. The supervisor, catching sight of the Awakening Stone, raised an eyebrow and gestured for them to follow.
They were led through the checkpoint at the cave's entrance, where two guards in fine leather armor stood with swords at their hips. The supervisor gave a curt nod.
"They have something for the Overseer," he said.
The guards stepped aside without a word.
As they exited into the open air, Suren squinted against the harsh sunlight. The warmth hit his skin, alien and wonderful. He blinked, momentarily stunned. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the sun—or if he ever truly had.
The mine lay on the side of a rocky hill dotted with dry shrubs. To the south, the land rose sharply, giving way to jagged mountain peaks. To the north, an endless plain stretched to the horizon, split by the glinting ribbon of a river. And far, far beyond, just barely visible through the haze, the faint silhouettes of distant mountains loomed.
Looking towards the crest of the hill a stronghold stood proud made from wood and stone.
Snap.
The supervisor cracked his whip across the air, the sound sharp and commanding.
"Don't waste my time," he barked, then turned briskly and led the way toward the stronghold.
At the side entrance, two guards pulled the heavy iron door open without a word. The group stepped inside, leaving the sunlit courtyard behind.
The supervisor led them down a dim corridor lined with stone, finally stopping before a thick wooden door. He rapped twice and waited.
"Come in," came a woman's voice from within.
Inside, the room was smoky and warm, lit by braziers. At its center lounged a hulking shirtless man, gnawing on the greasy leg of some large animal. Grease dripped down his beard and pooled on the table before him. Beside him stood a female elf with a bruised handprint on her cheek, silently massaging his shoulders.
"Good day, Overseer," the supervisor said with a respectful bow. "This professional miner has something to report."
He stepped aside, allowing Tinkerwick to move forward. The gnome pushed his goggles onto his forehead and gave a slight bow.
"Good day, sir. While working the lower levels of the Dark Mines, we discovered an Awakening Stone," he said, gesturing for Suren to step up.
Suren obeyed quickly, lifting the glowing stone for inspection. The light pulsed faintly, casting surreal shadows on the wall.
The Overseer wiped his greasy fingers on a stained cloth and leaned forward. His eyes narrowed, then lit with interest.
Burrrp.
He belched without shame, right in Suren's face.
"Yep. That's an Awakening Stone," he said, voice thick and casual. "Unfortunately, Shinji's stationed at the very bottom of the mines, so we can't get to the altar right now." He shrugged. "Oh well."
The moment the words left his mouth, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. A low hum crept into their ears—familiar, dreadful.
The whispers had returned.
The air twisted.
Shadows thickened unnaturally, pooling in corners and under furniture—then moved. Creatures stepped free from the darkness as if slipping through invisible veils. First came the imps—hunched, sharp-toothed, and wide-eyed—but more followed. Strange, malformed figures began to emerge, whispering in guttural tones that echoed inside the skull.
They weren't just in the room.
All across the hilltop, shadows writhed. From the corners of the courtyard, cracks in stone, even beneath the sparse shrubs—more creatures surfaced, drawn by the presence of the Awakening Stone.
Inside the room, the Overseer rose with sudden, terrifying force. The elf at his side was flung to the floor with a yelp as he reached for the massive dual-bladed axe resting nearby.
His muscles tensed—then in one sweeping arc, he brought the blade down.
Whssshk—Three imps near the entrance fell headless, black blood spraying the stone wall behind them.
He turned to the others, a grin spreading across his face."Looks like Shinji failed to contain the breach, this place is going to become abyssal bridge."
The whispers grew louder.