The minutes stretched on, marked only by the faint rustling of weary bodies shifting on the cold, hard ground.
The fires of the torches flickered against the cavern walls, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and despair.
And yet.
She clung to him.
The girl, his sister had curled up against his arm, her frail fingers gripping onto his tattered sleeve as though letting go would send her into the abyss itself.
Her breaths were soft, shallow. She had fallen into a fragile peace, her body exhausted beyond its limits.
Alex didn't move.
He sat there, letting her rest against him, her warmth pressing into his side.
And all he felt was guilt.
A deep, heavy weight coiling in his chest, suffocating, relentless.
If only….
If only he had been stronger.
If only he had seen through Elizabeth's deception.
If only he had not been blinded by love.
If only he had stopped his brother before it was too late.
Then maybe.
She wouldn't be here.
She and her brother, the real one would still be together, laughing, fighting, living their lives as siblings should.
These people wouldn't be branded like cattle, forced into shackles and servitude.
All of this.
It was his fault.
Alex clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
No more.
He made a silent promise, a vow that burned deep into his very soul.
He would put an end to this.
No matter what it took.
A sharp whistle shattered the brief moment of peace.
"On your feet, scum!"
The harsh voice of a soldier echoed through the cavern, followed by the crack of a whip.
A groan rippled through the slaves as they slowly pushed themselves up, their bodies trembling with fatigue.
Alex felt his sister stir.
Her eyes fluttered open, still heavy with exhaustion, and she looked up at him with a sleepy daze.
But the moment she realized what was happening, she jerked upright, rubbing her eyes as she scrambled to stand.
She hesitated.
Her hands twitched, reluctant to let go of him.
Alex turned to her, his expression softening for just a moment.
"Go," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
She stepped away, her hand slipping from his arm, and hurried back to her line.
Alex watched her go, his gaze lingering.
She was his sister now.
And he would protect her.
The march dragged on.
The sound of clinking chains echoed off the cavern walls, a never-ending reminder of their captivity. Alex's muscles burned with exhaustion, but he forced himself forward, his mind sharper than ever.
He needed to understand where they were going.
And then.
They reached it.
The moment the slaves stepped onto the plateau, a collective hush fell over them.
Their gazes lifted, and awe filled their weary eyes.
Before them stood a colossal mountain range, jagged peaks stretching into the stormy sky. But it wasn't the size that stole their breath away.
It was the crystals.
Glowing like fragments of a dying sun, the red crystals jutted out from the blackened rock, embedded into the mountainsides like veins of fire running through the earth.
They pulsed alive, breathing, almost whispering.
Some shimmered softly under the moonlight. Others glowed brighter, their fiery hue casting an eerie red tint over everything.
The slaves stood frozen, mesmerized.
As if staring at a being descended from the heavens.
As if something divine stood before them.
But Alex knew better.
He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.
Beautiful? Yes.
But he would rather be in hell than to be in this place.
Because he knew the truth.
Hundreds of years ago, the sky split apart.
A storm unlike any other descended upon the world, and from the heavens came a single, cataclysmic bolt of lightning.
It struck without mercy.
Mountains crumbled. Oceans boiled. Cities were obliterated in an instant.
Millions died in the wake of its destruction. Entire civilizations lost in a single night.
And when the storm finally cleared—
Something was left behind.
The first red crystal was discovered at the site of the devastation.
Its glow was haunting, as if it pulsed with the blood of the countless souls that had perished in the great lightning strike.
At first, the world marveled at it. They harvested the crystals, forged them into weapons, and discovered their power.
Weapons imbued with abilities beyond human comprehension.
Blades that could shatter steel.
Spears that could pierce the heavens.
Armor that could turn back time.
The golden age of war had begun.
Nations craved the power of the crimson gems. They tore into the earth, carving deeper and deeper into the mountains, extracting every last piece.
Until they learned the price.
The corruption.
At first, the signs were subtle.
Miners and warriors exposed to the crystals for too long began to change.
Their minds unraveled.
They forgot their own names. Their loved ones. Their very selves.
Madness took hold—a darkness seeping into their souls, swallowing every last trace of humanity.
And then.
They heard the whispers.
A voice from the abyss itself.
And once the abyss whispered to them, there was no return.
They became something else.
Twisted, hollow shells of their former selves. Not human. Not beast. Just void.
And now, Alex stood at the heart of it all.
His gaze traced the towering mountains of crystal, the eerie red glow illuminating the broken faces of the slaves around him.
How many of them knew the truth?
How many understood that the very thing they were forced to mine.
Would be their undoing?