Chapter 1

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. I don’t know if everyone knows this, but I do. I’ve heard the Old Stories. The stories that are forbidden now. Stories my great grandfather would tell me of when we lived above ground. Stories of adventures in the sun. I believe they’re more than just stories, and that we didn’t always live in the dark. That can only mean one thing, there weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

I was trying my best to not fall asleep but keeping my eyelids open was harder than the stone that enclosed the classroom. I knew I had stayed up too late, but my great grandfather had given me something for my 13th birthday that was worth losing sleep over. He made me promise not to tell my mother, and if my father was alive, he would have forbidden me to tell him as well. It was a small stone tablet that contained an Old Story and I spent most of the night reading it over and over. Although it was short, it contained things I had never heard of before, and even with my wild imagination, I had a hard time picturing them. I closed my eyes and thought about these things that were described as "trees” but wondered how something so big didn’t just fall over. I must have dozed off because I almost fell out of my chair when I heard my teacher yell.

"Thurgood Bonefoot! Are you paying attention?" I knew I was in trouble because that name was only used when I committed the most heinous of acts. Most people who know me just call me Bones.

"Yes, ma’am, sorry! I just stayed up a little late last night."

"Well, you can stay late after school to make up for the time you have spent sleeping in my classroom."

At that moment, I heard a chuckle from my best friend Stix, and I knew I would have to wait until later to tell him of Great Grandpa Iri's gift.

The teacher continued with her lesson about the dangers of going to the surface, the five types of dragons that roam in the Valley, and the importance of remaining in the Hollow. It’s not like dragons didn’t interest me, but I had heard it all before. It had been drilled into my head for as long as I could remember. Not to mention, since no one was allowed to go to the Valley, besides foragers, it’s not like I would ever need to deal with one anyway.

After I served my time, I met up with Stix.

"You will never believe what Grandpa Iri gave me last night."

"Hopefully it was a comb," he said, commenting on my long, brown, and disheveled hair.

"Very funny, I said." "Why don’t you "comb," say that to my face." Both of us stared at each other for a moment before smiling, knowing I was never the funny one between us.

"Well, out with it, man. What did he give you? "

"He gave me a sapphire tablet," I said, trying to gauge his reaction to this news.

"No, he didn’t. He probably gave what looks like a sapphire tablet, but it's certainly not a real one. Everyone knows those don’t exist anymore, and to be honest, I doubt they ever did. "

"Where else would the Old Stories, come from then?" I replied.

"I don’t know. People probably just made it all up. You seem to have no trouble coming up with crazy stories," he paused, "not that I don't enjoy listening to your stories," clearly trying not to offend my sensibilities.

I considered this answer for a moment and thought maybe he was right. Then again, Anvil Sticktoes’ opinions were harder to shift than his namesake.

I decided he could believe what he wanted; I was going to trust Grandpa Iri.

As the sweat started to pool on top of his brow, Ashura Mudguard wondered why Asod the Black had specifically asked him to excavate in such an obscure place. He was not one to say no to a powerful man like Asod, not that he had a choice. He hoped to be in Asod’s favor, which might be beneficial for his family. Ashura was not sure if that was even possible. Asod was a cold and calculating man of very few words. Ashura tried not to think about it too much, because not having to think was why he found solace in mining. Besides, at least with mining, there was the occasional gust of cold air that would come out like a snow giant's breath from the depths below.

Ashura named his pickax Gemfinder and still remembers the day quite vividly when his valuable find allowed his family more than the permitted one meal a day for a whole month. He was relatively short in stature compared to others he knew, but because of his low sense of gravity, Ashura was able to swing his pickax in a powerful way. Still, he wondered, why in this spot? If there were any minerals like coal, gold, iron, or stones of value, a Lantern would have detected them. He would glance over at the one he had after every couple of swings, but it remained dim. It was hard for him to imagine a day when miners wouldn’t use Lanterns. He didn’t understand the magic, but the concept was simple enough. The brighter the light the more valuable the ore.

After swinging Gemfinder for what felt like the 1000th time that evening, the Lantern beside him started to whistle and glow black, as if it was pulling in the light around it, and Ashura had been around Laterns long enough to know, they weren’t supposed to make a sound.

"Huh, well that’s strange," Ashura said as he turned to Asod who was watching very intently. "Have you ever seen anything like that, Lord Asod?"

Asod took a couple of steps forward to within arm’s reach of the dwarf and motioned for Ashura to swing the pickax again. Ashura obliged until the Lantern began to rattle and shake. The Lantern’s whistle magnified into a howl just before bursting and releasing all the light it had sucked in. In the moments that followed, Ashura’s body crumbled to the floor, blood dripping from his freshly opened throat. Asod wiped the blade on the outside of Ashura’s shirt before tucking it back into his leather sheath.

I got home relatively late after hanging out with Stix and his family. I crawled down the ladder into the crevice that was my home, Lanterns suspended by copper poles deeply embedded into the rock lit the way. I wished I had gotten home sooner. I had hoped to talk to Grandpa Iri before he went to bed. I wanted confirmation from him that the sapphire tablet he had given me was indeed real. For whatever reason, I had a very uneasy feeling in my stomach as I walked past his room that evening. My gut was telling me that I should wake him, but ultimately, I decided it would be okay to talk in the morning. As I crawled into bed, I pulled the tablet out from its hiding place and began to read it until I fell asleep.

Little did I know, I would never get that chance to ask Great Grandpa Iri. He had passed away in his sleep. Over the next few years, I would write a list of questions I would have liked to ask him, but I still believe he died dreaming of life above ground, and I believe that is a dream worth fighting for.