Obsidian Light

Beneath Mount Etna

The cavern’s floor was rugged and jet black. Rosalie needed to pay close attention to every step she took or she’d risk tripping on hardened clumps of lava. The ominous glow from the cinnabar combined with the firelight from Orazio’s torch kept the cavern illuminated enough to slowly maneuver through.

Weaving between the priceless stalagmites, Rosalie ran the tips of her fingers across the various collections of embedded gems and stones, admiring the impossible collection of undisturbed wealth.

A sharp pop and the shifting of stone on stone broke her fixation. Looking up and in the direction of the disturbance, she watched as Orazio disappeared behind one the largest stalagmite in the entire cavern.

Unlike the rest, this stalagmite was three times as tall, and the same in circumference. It was also the only pillar unadorned with treasure, yet it was still pure in its nature. As she approached it, the glow from the cinnabar revealed to her a smooth, sheen, onyx surface which glistened in the right light.

“Obsidian,” Clement said, “Pure all the way to its core. It’s the only one like it down here.”

Rosalie continued to gawk at the beauty of something so dark and colorless.

“It’s hot,” She said, as she quickly removed her palm from the surface.

“It’s a conductor," Clement responded, “It absorbs all of the energy it comes in contact with. Think of it like a battery."

“A battery?” Rosalie asked, “For what? What is it supposed to be charging?”

“Not charging. Keeping balance,” Clement said.

His cryptic response made her forehead ache with questions. Luckily, Orazio eased the tension brewing inside of her skull.

“Come and see.”

Rosalie stepped around the obsidian stalagmite with suspicion, then halted her advance once she noticed the arched opening carved into the pillar’s backside. It once again descended down and Orazio’s flickering firelight showcased the ancient black steps naturally carved into the rock.

It looked like the final path to hell and every single fiber inside of Rosalie’s body fought the urge to descend. Unfortunately, her yearning desire and need to understand the meaning to her crusade trumped her nerves and sense of logic.

She mounted the top tiered rung, then followed the fire deeper.