I kept to the wall as the passage dropped.
The slope was gradual at first, shallow enough that my claws didn't slip, but it did force my shoulders lower and my wings pinned tight to my sides. The air got colder with every few steps, biting into the flesh hidden under my scales and prying the warmth of the furnace I usually enjoyed even in the desolate Northern Wastes. Dust clung to the inside of my nostrils and my every breath felt like a respirator was on my face.
The tunnel turned twice. The first was sharp and angled as if purposefully chiseled, while the second was wider and uneven as if something large had scraped it while passing by thousands of times.
I paused to investigate the marking before continuing onward.
Eventually, the corridor emptied into another chamber, smaller than the one with pits, but laid out with same flatness. The floor bore shallow grooves running in straight lines, like lanes walked too many times, and I found spots where metal had once been bolted down, now ripped out and missing.
I followed the grooves to where they ended at a low opening in the far wall.
Something had been dragged through here.
The entrance was too narrow for my full body to squeeze through without scaping the ceiling the whole way. I lowered myself and shoved forward across the floor, like a worm, but it got me into what appeared to be a service tunnel.
After fifty feet, the air got even colder, frost visibly climbing across my scales.
The stench of rusted copper was so heavy it wrapped around me like an extra layer of gravity. A new room was at the end, the rough natural stone giving way to stonework of layered slabs fitted together in tight seams.
The room was laid out like a workshop that had been looted. Long benches lined one side, their tops gouged and chipped, while hooks jutted out from the walls at regular intervals. Skeletons in rusted chains leaned against the wall, still bound after their flesh had long rotted away.
In the center sat a block of black metal, waist high to a man, shaped into an alter with dried liquid which smelled like ancient blood and patterns carved that radiated power.
I circle it slowly, careful not to touch it. Careful not to disturb it.
Reaching the benches, I found a shelf in the corner, half-collapsed, and tucked under it were thin plates. They were not paper or stone, but looked hammered metal, darkened with age, and covered with writing in Black Script, the written form of Black Speech.
I pulled one free with the tip of my claw which made a scarping sound that grated on my ears. The thing was heavier than it looked.
Drawn on it with script in the margins, was an image of serpentine figure with changes marked along the spine and chest. Below it was rows with smaller drawings that looked like organs and body parts.
My stomach tightened.
I have never seen the language before, except in the movies, but I instinctively understood their meaning. It was documentation of an experiment.
I set the plate down and started going through the rest. Some had wings. Not a dragon's wings, but close, with lines drawn along the membranes and notes about mass and membranes. One had too many limbs. One had a humongous jaw. One by one, plate by plate, I watched in horror and fascination as the creation of my race unfolded.
Eventually, I finished the last one with a clear depiction of a dragon and placed it on the net stack I had created. To be honest, I did not understand most of it. There was talk of energies I was unfamiliar with and biological structures I barely remember from another life.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, my attention moved back to the alter in the middle.
I moved closer and lowered my head cautiously until it hovered right above the surface. The channels funneled into a spiral in the middle with a round depression the size of my thumb. A stone sat securely inside, black and smooth, with more patterns carved into tighter scripts. I could not understand it.
I pressed the tip of my claw against and applied some force. Nothing.
I tried again and again at different angles and pressures.
I felt it shift and a click echoed through the room.
My whole body went still, listening while holding my breath. Silence.
The air didn't change, distant steps didn't ring out, traps didn't activate. The only thing that happened was a faint vibration that crawled up through the alter and into my claw.
I pulled my claw away, but the feeling stayed in my bones a second before fading.
Slowly, I pressed again, turning it until the spiral grooves were aligned. It resisted at first but gave way before settling. A deep vibration reverberated through the alter.
The scales on my neck tightened and my skin tingled.
Heat gathered behind my teeth without my call.
I exhaled once just to test, and a thin stream of flame came out sharper than it should have with almost no effort.
I backed away, completely spooked, and flexed my claws to shake the feeling out. It didn't leave.
The hum remained in my chest like a second heartbeat.
I wasn't going to sit there and tempt fate anymore. I turned and began retracing my path.
The service tunnel was still as tight as ever and the chamber behind me remained silent as if waving goodbye.
When I reached the wider chamber, I did not stop to stretch. I kept moving forward, a sense of danger creeping up my spine, while listening for any sounds.
I continued, the corridor rising gradually, and the air thinning back out , less heaviness and cold. My breathing steadied and the frost on my scales melted, but the hum stayed. Not growing or pulsing, but waiting to be unleashed.
The turn towards the pits came back into view and I slowed as the exit I came in was visible. I kept to the wall, aiming directly for it while keeping my movement brisk.
My claw touched the edge of the passage when I felt it.
A new heat rolling through the air behind me.
I froze.
It was different from my own or my vents or the sun overhead. The sound came next, a slow and deliberate thud of footsteps like a giant holding a great weight. The rattle of chain rang out as the creaking of rock rumbled through the cavern.
I turned my head.
Light moved in a corridor near me, a faint orange glow that pulsed like living ember. It grew brighter with every step and the smell reached my nose before the figure stepped into the cavern.
Smoke. Sulfur.
Something old and hateful that ringed with familiarity in my chest.
The glow rounded the corner. A shape filled the passage, taller than any man, broader than any giant, outlined in fire that clung to its blackened and cracked skin. Horns curved from its head like a bull's and its eyes burned like coal with a fury I could not even comprehend.
A Balrog.
It stepped forward and the stone under it steamed.
I didn't move. Didn't breathe.
The hum in my chest sharpened as if sensing my fear.
The balrog tilted its head and locked gazes with me from across the pits. Staring without movement, eerie and unnatural.
I shifted my weight backward, slow and controlled, already calculating how long it would take to reach the entrance and escape into the open sky. The ceiling and walls were a restriction that would limit my advantages.
Then it smiled, fire flaring around it.
And I understood, too late, that leaving was going to hurt.