Atell woke up with a start. And judging by his natural state of unease, he knew right away he’d overslept.

Springing up from his straw mattress, Atell rifled through his meager belongings in the dark alcove as he struggled to remember when he’d climbed into bed last night. Hazy memories and feelings were all his half-awake mind could muster. Fortunately, he didn’t require much brainpower in order to find his spare set of linen clothes. But just before he could dash off into the tunnels he was blocked by Tenshi.

“Slow down, little one. Where are you off to in such a hurry?” the old man asked with a faint smile.

“I-I…I’m late for, um…” Atell scratched his head, finally focusing some of his attention on the present. Although his thoughts were still muddled by drowsiness, a bolt of inspiration struck and he remembered that there wouldn’t be any work for Trolls — at least for the time being.

Tenshi laughed as the light of understanding passed through the disheveled boy’s eyes.

“Why don’t you get some breakfast. In a while, I’ll be hosting a gathering alongside the Elders to let the other tribesmen know about the current situation. Seeing as you’re already aware, feel free to do as you wish today. Just steer clear of the mines and be back sometime this afternoon. The earlier the better.”

“Yes, Grandfather.” Relieved, Atell exhaled a deep breath. He knew he still had a lot on his mind that he still needed to sort through.

After seeing the Patriarch off, Atell retrieved some dried meat and diced mushrooms from their storage and directly left for the surface.

***

A thin layer of grey clouds covered the sky as Atell trudged up the familiar trail that wound its way up the rear of Mount Stormpeak. He was intimately familiar with the area and thus had no trouble finding the path despite the snow. None of the stray rocks or sharp branches — or even the cold — could pierce through his tough skin. His body was impervious to the mountain’s obstructions.

Initially, Atell had ideas of making his way into the village to purchase some fresh treats, but he would only be inviting trouble if Raiden or his pack of followers were out and about. And it always seemed that they were... He supposed it was already enough that he was able to avoid his work for the day and find some time alone.

As his thoughts continued to wander, Atell climbed at a rapid pace. Soon, the treeline began to thin out, and after an hour or so he arrived at his destination.

The boy stood at the edge of a narrow ridge about two-thirds of the way up the jagged bluff. He found himself completely engrossed in the scenery as his frayed tunic billowed in the wind.

Stormpeak had the highest altitude in the surroundings and served as the heart of the Trion Mountains. Its perceived grandeur was the main reason why the Aurelians chose to grant the mountain its name and establish their clan in the area. However, Atell knew that Stormpeak was a mere pretender, a small hill at the southern edge of the Hinterlands. Far to the north lay the truly behemoth peaks where the Eternal Coven claimed dominion.

Atell cast his gaze in that direction, his eyes wandering over the rocky outcrops protruding amidst the sea of frost-covered pines. Desire stirred deep in his heart as recalled the stories of the Coven’s powerful witches. Women who flew through the sky on the backs of ancient Mana Beasts, calling forth the elements and strange magics to devastate their foes. For a brief moment, Atell regretted being born as a male. If he had been a girl and was selected to join the Coven’s ranks — how great would that be. He would no longer have to bow to the Aurelian’s rule and could travel as he pleased.

Unfortunately, that was only the whimsical fantasy of a child. His reality was vastly different, but Atell still enjoyed the occasions when he could find some peace and quiet and indulge himself in such ideas. There was little to no privacy in the caves, so he could only find respite in isolated areas such as this.

‘At least I’ve managed to absorb the Heartstone…’ Atell mused. He figured that particular feat was something only he could claim within the Trion Mountains. At least for now...

If his Grandfather’s knowledge about the resource was accurate, then he would have a massive advantage over his peers when the time came to carve out his Mana Pool, and beyond. At that point, he may even be stronger than Raiden. There was still a glimmer of hope he could cling to. If only he could get his hands on some more Heartstone… maybe his dreams of freedom and revenge wouldn’t stay as such.

Atell turned around and took a few steps over to a tree trunk that was partially submerged in the snow. After quickly digging around its roots, he reached into a hollow crevice to retrieve the cloth pouch hidden inside. The fabric felt surprisingly warm and soft to the touch as Atell unknotted the drawstring. There wasn’t much inside, only a collection of colorful minerals and a small wooden pipe decorated with holes. Nothing of any real value, but they were his most precious belongings.

Aside from when he came up to the ridge to greet the sun, Atell most fondly recalled all the times his father had taken him to this location to gaze at the stars. He would sit on his father’s lap, tracing the constellations with his eyes while the man played soft melodies on his flute. The Troll-Bloods certainly weren’t renowned for their nimble fingers, quite the opposite in fact, but that was what made his father’s skill with the instrument so special. And the enthusiastic man made sure to constantly remind Atell of this. Frequently regaling him with tales of how he wooed Atell’s mother — the exalted Priestess — with his musical talent.

Atell’s own ability with the instrument was subpar at best. He deemed it unlikely that he would be able to use it to attract a mate in the future. Still, he tried to play it on occasion when motivation struck, as it did now.

A soft whistle carried through the air as Atell blew gently into the mouthpiece. His rendition was rough and uneven, but he was the only one around to listen. As the tune came to an end, Atell continued to linger on the ridge in the ensuing silence. It wasn’t until a garbled growl emerged from his stomach that he finally packed up and left.

***

Upon his return to the caves, Atell found his Uncle waiting for him outside of his dwelling.

“Atell! You’re back,” Irth exclaimed, the wrinkles of concern on his forehead loosening.

“Uncle, you’ve been waiting for me?”

“Mm, I was just about to head out to look for you. Luckily, I decided to wait here a bit longer.”

“What do you need me for?” Atell inquired, a bit curious. “I thought everyone would be busy with the meeting for a while.”

“Aye… Well, the Aurelians came by earlier. They announced that they’ll be holding a banquet tonight to celebrate the discovery of the Heartstone source. Patriarch and a few others went off to discuss the details while the rest of us were gathered to set everything up in the Temple Plaza. If you have nothing else, we should set off right away.”

“Do… Do we still have to go if everyone else is already taking care of it?” Atell squirmed a bit under his Uncle’s gaze.

“Atell…” Irth warned. “The Patriarch said specifically that he would like to see you there… And you know how some of the Aurelians like to pay you special attention. Your absence will only give them more reason to criticize. It’s best to face it head-on.”

Atell sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of this. “Alright, I just need to grab some proper clothes and then I’ll be ready.”

“Very well,” Irth replied, satisfied with the boy’s answer.

After changing into his only set of clothes not filled with rips and holes, Atell set off with Irth. Thankfully, the Aurelians had decided to hold the banquet outside the temple, rather than all the way out in the village. It was only a short walk from the caves over to the broad staircase leading up the southwestern face of Mount Stormpeak.

From a distance, Atell could see numerous small groups approaching the steps to begin their ascent. There were male Stag-Bloods, with their prominent antlers, leading their families... Aurelians charging over atop their Direwolves... And even a congress of Ravens that begrudgingly descended to the ground to complete the remainder of the journey on foot. It was a rare occasion to see all the tribes of the Trion Mountains gathering in one place; such an event would normally lend itself to a festive atmosphere, but today that was hardly the case.

Hushed whispers flitted back and forth underneath the strained silence that covered the procession of Demons. Only the Aurelians seemed ignorant of everyone’s unease, calling out joyfully to each other as they gathered.

As Atell and Irth joined the parade heading towards the temple, they likewise shared a hushed exchange.

“Uncle Irth… why does everyone seem so nervous?”

Irth’s gaze flickered around briefly before he replied, “The leaders of the three tribes met earlier with Aurelians before the banquet was announced. Patriarch’s goal was to urge everyone to keep matters of the Heartstone quiet. Yet… here we all are.”

“Why so? I know the Heartstone is valuable but…?” Atell’s voice trailed off as he struggled to piece together the issue.

“The Coven, Atell. Their influence doesn’t normally reach this far south, but the Patriarch is worried they may extend a hand if word leaks out. The Aurelians have only claimed territory in the Hinterlands within the last century and may be ignorant of the danger” Irth explained.

“Could it be they haven’t heard stories of the Witches? Will there be an attack!?” Due to his surprise, Atell forgot to control the volume of his voice. A few of the nearby Ravens shot the pair disapproving glances as they hurried by. Irth glared back at them before he grabbed Atell’s arm and dragged him to the edge of the staircase.

“Quiet, Atell,” he warned. “Its true that the Aurelians aren't entirely unaware of the Coven’s power. Either they’re overestimating themselves, or... they’re already resigned to the fact that the Coven will seize the mines.”

“What will we do then?”

“What can we do?” Irth shrugged. “Best we leave it to the Patriarch to decide.”

“I guess…” Atell’s shoulders slouched as he sighed. He hated that the Trolls were so powerless in this situation. He was only somewhat placated by the fact that the Ravens and Stags shared the same fate. Suddenly, a soft smack landed on the back of his head.

“Ow!” Atell exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot.

Irth smiled down at the boy and tussled his hair. “What’s the use of worrying so much about something outside of your control? You’ll wind up with more wrinkles than your grandfather at this rate.”

Atell was unamused by the man’s joke. “I can’t help it…” he muttered under his breath.

A familiar warm hand clasped Atell’s shoulder as Irth knelt down to meet his lowered gaze. “Face what’s in front of you, child. Do what you can with what you have. Even the wise Oracles can’t always accurately predict the future. Us Trolls are tougher than others give us credit for. We’ll all make it through this together.”

Atell inhaled a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“Good,” Irth chuckled. “Now let’s go. I’m sure the Patriarch has been anxiously waiting for you.”

With a pat on the back, Irth urged the boy up the remaining distance. It didn’t take long for them to reach the wide plateau where everyone was gathered.

Typically, only the Gilded Priestesses or the Aurelian youths undergoing their Initiate rites were allowed access to this area. This was understandable considering the Auric Wolf’s Temple contained the clan’s Ancestral Totem and the archives detailing the Clan’s innermost secrets. But it just made Atell all the more curious as to why they chose to hold the gathering here today, rather than in the village square.

He gazed around curiously as they reached the top of the stairs. It was his first time visiting the Temple Plaza. Regrettably, what he saw left him somewhat disappointed. The ground flattened out conspicuously, indicating the plateau’s man-made nature, and in the plaza’s center was a broad, circular platform composed of dull grey stone — behind which loomed the temple. Simple wooden columns supported the entablature which depicted various scenes of a massive wolf hunting feeble prey in the wild.

It all looked very rustic and... subdued. Atell had been expecting something more ostentatious. According to what he knew, the Aurelians were a proud and wealthy Clan. But everything he saw today seemed to tell another story. Possibly another reason they disallowed outsiders from viewing the temple, he mused.

Suddenly, a shout caught his attention.

“Atell! There you are,” Tenshi exclaimed as he strolled through the bustling crowd of Troll-Bloods who were setting up the long tables and seats on the platform.

“Greetings, Patriarch.” Irth bowed. Atell hurriedly followed his example.

“Thank you for looking after him, Irth. I’ll have to trouble you again to help out with the preparations.”

“Of course, Patriarch.” Irth immediately stepped away to assist a group of youths who were struggling to lift a table.

Tenshi swept up Atell into his stride, moving them to a more isolated area.

“Did you speak to Irth about what took place last night?” the old man inquired.

“About the He…” Atell’s words were cut off as Tenshi hurriedly placed his hand over the boy’s mouth. Quickly understanding the point, Atell shook his head.

“Good. And under no circumstances shall you speak of that to anyone else, understand?”

“Yes, Grandfather,” Atell replied with a little less resolve than Tenshi desired.

“Atell... Never. No matter what.”

Atell nodded as his mouth drew a hard line. His grandfather rarely ever spoke with such severity.

Just as Atell had acquiesced, the banquet’s guests of honor arrived on the scene. The proud Matriarch stood at the forefront of the group. Her glacial eyes swept over the plaza, emitting a tangible pressure to all who entered her sight. Directly behind her were the five Gilded Priestesses. These women, adorned in their ornate gold-trimmed ceremonial robes, chatted quietly amongst themselves. It was almost as if they deemed the tribes gathered in the plaza unworthy of their attention. Finally, Atell spotted Raiden amongst the elite members of the clan bringing up the rear. He quickly looked away from the boy, unwilling to make unnecessary eye contact.

The groups of Stags and Ravens gathered around the plaza abruptly ceased their chattering and stood at attention. Only the Trolls frantically continued their work under the Aurelian Matriarch’s stern gaze.

Atell noticed Tenshi giving him a deep look before the old man left his side. He frowned as he watched his grandfather bow to the Matriarch, doing his utmost to placate the woman.

If there was one person Atell hated almost as much as Raiden — it was the Matriarch. She was his maternal grandmother, yet she had never once spoken a word to him. The woman had even gone so far as to exile her own daughter from the clan.

Tenshi had warned him once that the Matriarch limited her interactions with him for his own good, but it seemed so unnecessary. All of it was stupid. Especially, the rigid hierarchy and social systems of the clans and tribes. Everyone was bound to some meaningless sense of honor and duty based on their status. Atell never understood why people couldn’t just live as they pleased. Maybe that idea was a result of his father’s influence, but he too believed it made a lot of sense.

Feeling himself getting worked up, Atell released a series of deep breaths to calm his nerves. It was an action instilled into him by Tenshi, and a necessity every time he came across Raiden or the Matriarch.

After somewhat calming himself down, Atell realized that the preparations for the banquet were all but complete. The tables were set as the Raven’s laid out the food and the Stags began to distribute the wine and drinks.

Atell continued to subdue his anger as he jostled through the crowded plaza, making his way over to the corner table where the other members of his tribe were gathering. His presence went largely unnoticed by others due to his small stature, but this trait he normally viewed favorably, spelled his misfortune on this day. About halfway over to his destination, Atell collided with a distracted woman. She had marched over, reaching out towards a platter of wine when the impact nearly knocked her onto her rear. Atell’s heart sunk to depths of his stomach as he was confronted by the all too familiar ceremonial robes.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, Honored Priestess. I wasn’t watching my step.” Atell uttered an apology with utmost haste.

Initially, the Priestess seemed surprised that she had ended up worse off in the collision than anything else, but the shock in the woman’s eyes was quickly replaced by a look of understanding that rapidly transformed into wrath. Atell found her sequence of facial expressions to be extremely odd, he knew he’d never seen this woman before and her reactions were too dramatic for such a minor incident.

“You! How dare you!” The narrow-faced woman’s shrill voice pierced through the clamor of the crowd, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

Atell lowered his head, unsure how to respond. He’d already offered an apology… what more could he say?

Another outraged voice followed the woman’s shriek, “Little slug, you did this on purpose!”

‘Raiden!’ Atell lamented in his mind. ‘It just had to be…’

“I swear! It was an accident!” Atell clarified, now noticing the dark maroon stain on the woman’s otherwise unblemished robe.

“Someone get this filthy mixed-blood out of here this instant! Bernard, give this boy a beating and toss him into a holding cell for the night.” The Gilded Priestess demanded. Raiden snickered by her side.

“Enough, Aster!” A stern voice resounded through the plaza before the guard at Aster’s side could make his move. “You would cause a grand commotion for something so inconsequential?”

The Matriarch’s cold eyes drilled into the woman whose face drained of blood.

“M-Matriarch… this boy intended me harm!” Aster blustered.

Grumbles rolled through the crowd following her claim. Not a single person present believed a small child still in the Foundation Stage had intentions of attacking a Priestess during a banquet, let alone the ability to harm one. Even Raiden’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“I won’t hear another word of this. We are gathered here to celebrate an auspicious occasion, not to cater to your petty squabbles. Don’t make me regret my prior decision…” The Matriarch warned.

“Y-Yes, Matriarch!”

“Raiden, escort your Mother into the temple. There are plenty of spare robes in the storage.”

“Right away, Matriarch!” Raiden bowed and hurried off with his mother. Both of them seemed eager to vacate the area.

The old Matriarch snorted and returned to her position in the seat of honor. The atmosphere was tense, to say the least, as Atell hid in between Irth and his grandfather at their corner table.

Luckily, the wine was poured generously, and it wasn’t long before laughter and sounds of merriment filled the air. At least it appeared that all the guests were enjoying themselves on the surface, many just indulged themselves in order to forget their worries.

Atell, in particular, struggled to placate his unease. Largely due to the pair of venomous eyes that observed his every move throughout the evening. He knew that Raiden would be upset over what had transpired earlier, but he didn’t think the boy would be so single-minded in antagonizing him.

Unable to bear the constant pressure, Atell snuck a glance at the perpetrator. Much to his surprise — it was the Priestess, rather than Raiden, who still bore him ill will. A chill crept down his spine as he swiftly turned away. Atell’s instincts told him that the woman’s hatred ran much deeper than her son’s. What he’d done to offend the two so greatly was still beyond his comprehension.

Atell’s blood boiled with anger. Why was he the one who constantly had to bow and beg their forgiveness when he’d done nothing wrong in the first place! He whipped his head back around to glare at the Priestess. Their eyes locked, neither willing to yield until a man seated next to Aster distracted her with a conversation.

From his seat he could clearly hear the man showering Aster with words of praise, further inciting Atell’s ire.

“Lady Aster, this truly cannot be a coincidence. Just as Raiden has been deemed as the Promised Son, a source of Heartstone has been uncovered as well. Your pedigree has blessed the Clan. Our future will be limitless under your lead.”

Raiden’s smug smile was a perfect replica of his mother’s as others at the table joined in.

“Marc’s words are correct. Raiden has successfully inherited the Auric Wolf’s scripture. In a few years, none will be his match.”

“Indeed! With him leading the younger generation, our return to the Dynasty is assured,” A gaudy woman added. Mumbles of agreement rippled through the table.

The thick wooden spoon in Atell’s hand snapped as his indignation peaked. He understood that those flatterers were merely feeding Aster’s ego, but he found their words hard to dismiss.

“Ignore them, Atell” Tenshi urged, passing him a new spoon.

“Patriarch is right. Those Aurelians only have thoughts of the future and will be ill-prepared to handle the present dangers,” Irth added.

Atell squirmed in his seat as a risky idea took root in his mind. Despite what his uncle and grandfather said, he was simply unwilling to put his resentment to rest. It had remained bottled up for too long and he would be unable to seal his fury again unless he took action.

“Grandfather?” Atell spoke up.

“Yes…?”

“I… I don’t feel much like eating anymore. Is it okay if I return to the caves?”

Tenshi sighed. Atell was clearly upset, but Tenshi wanted the boy to temper his patience and bearing by attending events such as these. It was understandable that Atell felt slighted and indignant, but if he let such insults overcome his rationality every time… he had a long road of enemies in front of him. However, it appeared the boy was already past the point of return this evening and forcing him to remain at this point wouldn’t solve anything.

“If that is what you wish, I will have your Uncle escort you home. Irth, I’ll have to trouble you.”

“Not a problem, Patriarch. I’ve never liked these events much myself.” Irth smiled.

Atell glanced at the empty wine glass in Irth’s hands. Having an escort would hinder his new plans a bit, but he knew Tenshi wouldn’t allow him to leave otherwise.

“Thank you, Uncle.”

Irth responded with a laugh. “It’s no issue. You’ve provided me with a great excuse. Come, let’s be rid of this foolish atmosphere.”

The two stood and bowed to Tenshi. Atell once more felt a lingering gaze on his back as they departed, but this time he didn’t turn to look.

***

“Goodnight. Thanks again, Uncle!” Atell waved to Irth as the man’s silhouette disappeared around a corner.

His eyes flickered with a cold light. Now, it was time for action. Instead of turning to enter his own dwelling, Atell dashed off towards the mess hall.

A scant few torches illuminated the large, empty cavern as he arrived. Only the tribe’s sole cook still strolled between the stone tables, cleaning up whatever mess had been left earlier in the day.

“Atell! What brings you here? Didn’t get your fill at the banquet?” The man called out to him upon noticing his presence.

“It’s not that,” Atell assured. “The Patriarch just asked me to return a little early in order to prepare some bone relief medicine for him.”

“Aye, it’s that time of year. Seems everyone’s aches and pains started acting up after the last snowstorm…” The cook sighed. “Well, are you just looking for Brittle Caps, or do you need some assistance with the mixing as well?”

“Just the Brittle Caps,” Atell replied with a smile. “I’ve seen him mix the medicine before, so I should be able to handle it.”

“Alright. Well, don’t be afraid to call on me if you need anything else. I’ll have the caps for you in a moment.”

The cook disappeared into the cellar hidden behind the counter where food was normally distributed. True to his word, he returned in short order with a cluster of pale white mushrooms resting in a bowl.

“Remember to really grind it up as much as possible or it gets tough for those old men to swallow.”

“I will! Thanks, Bun!”

Atell wasted no time snatching the bowl and racing back to his room. Once inside, he grabbed the awl his Grandfather had left sitting out and used the blunt end of it to grind up the Brittle Caps. It didn’t take much effort or strength to turn the white mushrooms into a fine powder.

Next, Atell retrieved the small flask of wine he’d hidden in his waistband. It was something he’d stolen from a table of Stags on his way out of the plaza. After uncorking the flask, he poured its contents into the bowl of powder. He stirred the wine patiently, trying his best to dissolve as much of the fine granules as possible.

Finally, he wrung a few drops of sap from some Onia roots into the mixture. The Onia sap had a bitter taste, but he hoped the wine would be strong enough to mask the flavor.

With his preparations complete, Atell was ready to set his plan into motion. He poured the medicine-infused wine back into the flask and grabbed a small burlap sack that he then slung over his shoulder.

Atell exited his dwelling, creeping carefully into the tunnels leading towards the surface. His assumption that the banquet would extend late into the night, as was often the case with such events, and it appeared that he was right. He didn’t pass by a single soul on his way out.

The most difficult part of his initial plan — stealing the wine — had already been completed. Now, his success was just a matter of luck.

The Bone Relief mixture was a popular medicine that the old Trolls had developed to help alleviate their joint pain. Moreover, it had the added effect of making one drowsy, so it was often only taken before going to bed.

Atell was unsure if wine would dilute the effect or enhance it, but in a worst-case scenario, the guards he intended to offer the wine would either outright refuse or simply be unaffected.

Still, Atell couldn’t completely suppress his nerves as he approached the mines. He crouched down in some shrubs to observe the situation when was a short distance away.

Clouds still covered the sky, so the moons were unable to shed their light upon the world. In the inky darkness, it was difficult to determine the exact number of guards, but it looked like there were only two, maybe three men standing in the fringes of the torchlight framing the mine’s entrance.

Steeling himself, Atell approached with caution, making sure to produce enough noise to alert the guards to his presence.

“Who goes there!” A gruff voice barked out.

Atell held his hands above his head as he stepped into the wavering light.

“Kid, what’re you doing out here at this hour?” The same man questioned harshly. However, it was evident that some of the tension in his voice had dissipated.

“I was sent here by Bernard to pass along a gift,” Atell announced. He wasn’t sure how well these men knew Bernard, but it was the only name of an Aurelian guard present at the feast that he knew off the top of his head.

“Bernard…?” The second man questioned, looking quizzically at the guard who had spoken previously.

“I haven’t spoken to Bernard since he joined the Gilded Regiment,” The man shrugged. “Well, what’s this gift anyway. Hand it over.”

Atell retrieved the flask from his waistband, passing it to the man who was the apparent leader of the two.

After giving the flask a sniff, the man chuckled. “Who would have thought that bastard Bernard was still looking out for his old comrades.” He passed it to the other guard who also sniffed at the bottle before taking a long swig.

“Whoo, those Stags really do know how to make some good wine. This batch has got quite a kick to it.” The man coughed a few times after he swallowed the liquid.

“Who said you could drink?” The leader snatched the flask from the other man’s hands and took a long drag himself. “Thanks, kid.” he laughed after loosing a deep belch.

“Looks like we owe Bernard a favor in the future.” The second guard stepped over to Atell and pressed a bronze coin into his palm. “Why don’t you head on back home, it's too cold out here to be wandering around.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Atell bowed graciously and crept back into the shadows as the two men fought over the remaining wine.

Back in his hiding spot, Atell waited patiently for any signs of the medicine taking affect. It didn’t take long for the two men to drain the flask in turns and return to their original positions. The following minutes passed by slowly.

Initially, Atell was impressed with their steadiness. Their posture was stiff, appearing alert as they stood at the ready, but he soon noticed that their eyes looked hazy as they stared blankly into the night. Eventually, the leader — who had managed to claim most of the wine — started nodding off. Atell’s heart leaped into his throat. He honestly couldn’t believe that the medicine would work. His only worry now was that the man’s companion would take notice before he fell victim as well.

However, his worries were for naught as the other man’s head also began to bob erratically. In a short while, both men were slumped against the mine’s entrance, their soft snores echoing through the surroundings.

Cautiously, Atell inched past the men and into the familiar depths. His biggest issue now was that he didn’t know exactly where the Heartstone was located within the mines — excluding the areas he himself frequented with the Foreman’s crew.

Time was of the essence, so Atell quickly grabbed a pick from the mine cart and dashed down a tunnel. Truthfully, he hadn’t imagined that he would make it this far. It was a haphazardly organized plan fueled by anger. Now, with a more level head, his willpower began to falter. The only thing keeping him motivated was Aster and Raiden’s pleased grins that had been burned into his memories.

Atell berated himself for getting distracted. His eyes glowed softly as he scanned the walls. Like many of the Trolls, he’d always had some measure of night vision since birth, and that ability was paying dividends now as he scrounged through the darkness.

Sadly, no matter where he looked, he couldn’t seem to find any traces of the Heartstone. By his estimations, he’d been searching for nearly an hour. While he didn’t think that the guards would be waking up anytime soon, it was another matter altogether if Tenshi returned to the caves and found him absent. With that in mind, Atell redoubled his efforts.

Sure enough, his persistence was rewarded. Turning down a narrow passageway, Atell was confronted by a steep downward slope. He slid down the decline and was greeted by a burst of discordant, concentrated energy. Atell shivered. He was intimately familiar with that sensation. His pace quickened by a notch as he ran towards the source.

At the end of the tunnel, Atell spotted a cluster of amber chunks embedded in the rough gray wall. Each piece of Heartstone pulsed in unison, appearing like the fragmented heart of a primordial beast.

Atell observed the stones carefully, looking for an appropriate target. His goal was not only to spite the Aurelians by embezzling a portion of their prize but also to find the largest piece in order to improve himself. He knew he didn’t have the time to extract each and every crystal present. Many of them were small to begin with, not much larger than the coin he’d received from the guard earlier. They made the fist-sized chunk he’d absorbed last night appear extravagant.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. A portion of the wall that connected to the floor was carved away like someone had already taken a pick to it. Atell went over to inspect the damage, and much to his joy, discovered a massive Heartstone nearly the size of his head embedded in the ground.

It even looked like someone had already worked it loose, but had given up just before the task was completed. Atell was more than willing to finish the job.

Hefting his pickaxe, he swung down at the edges of the amber, sending dirt and stone flying. After a few minutes of work, he knelt down next to the Heartstone and gripped its edges. With a great heave, Atell exerted all his strength to pull the large chunk free.

The Heartstone came loose with much greater ease than he anticipated, causing him to tumble backward.

Atell groaned as he hefted the amber off his chest. As he sat up, a bleak wind suddenly buffeted his face. It felt much different than the pulsing energy. Rather than the oscillating presence of the Flux Essence, the brutal wind spoke clearly of death and decay, and it sunk deep into Atell’s bones. He discovered that he’d never truly felt what it was like to be cold until this moment. With chattering teeth, Atell advanced towards the hole he’d opened up in the ground.

Another gust of wind sent him reeling. Voices seemed to linger in its wake, calling out him… begging for release. Fear started to take root in Atell’s mind, but he couldn’t collect himself enough to flee or make any sense of the situation.

The voices grew louder and more pronounced, speaking in an unfamiliar tongue. Atell made an effort to crawl his way out of the tunnel to no avail — there was no strength left in his limbs.

Thick strands of darkness, deeper than any night he’d experienced, reached forth from the hole and wrapped around Atell’s limbs. His consciousness screamed for help, but no sounds emerged from his throat. Slowly, his body was consumed by the biting chill as his vision grew dark.