John 'Capo' Chapman
Shallow Kota, John mulled over the name of the mine while contemplating what the day would bring next.
The sky was a dreary shade of gray again and particles of soot danced in the air like tiny black pebbles. Fog clung to the mine like shiny old pitch to a rock. It was a silvery liquid, viscous and shape-changing. The fog, made from iron and loneliness, that rested on the mine, making it look like a mirror was being held over it and the fog was the reflection of the sky and the clouds. And in the center of the mirror, the mine started, disappeared, and started again; the mirror bent to tie itself up in a knot and fog was there to cradle the mine. The edges of the entrance were dark, it looked like the sun was trying to burn through the darkness and failing. The spot where the light touched the entrance was a golden glow, like the fire of a blacksmith’s forge on the brightest day, but the entrance never got any brighter and the glow never got any larger.
The main room of the mine was empty, as it always was. The walls were cut glass like a diamond every once in a while, and at those places where letters had been carved into the rock. Sadness, loss, pain, horror and awe - all of these things had been etched into those rocks by desperate hands eons ago and they still showed clear in those precious places. Pretty impressive, John thought, to claim his pain and set it on stone for ages to come.
The mine shaft this particular day looked like an empty eye socket it was black so deep, so deep, like a well dug into oblivion. John sighed as he entered the main room of the mine. The room was crammed with old slaves, dragged slaves, and new slaves. The slave masters were so desperate to keep the mining operation going that they had been forced to exhaust their current workforce and find new slaves from any source imaginable.
"Let's go," John said and at the same time, like some kind of summons, an awful scream went up from down the mine shaft.
"I’ll take the front today," Lu said and they started digging.
The work in the mine was slow and tedious. Lu, John and the other slaves worked diligently, digging deeper and deeper into the unforgiving rock. The tools they had were primitive but effective; shovels, picks, axes and chisels. With these basic instruments they chipped away at the rock face until it broke apart in their hands. This labor was done by firelight, for the only light that illuminated their work came from the torches carried by some of those slaves who were unfortunate enough to be chosen for guard duty.
For hours on end, Lu, John and the others toiled away in near total darkness, their progress painfully slow. It was a grueling task and one that few workers could endure for more than a day or two without succumbing to exhaustion or illness. Despite this fact though, there was a certain camaraderie amongst them as they worked together in a common cause: that of freeing themselves from oppression and exploitation while searching for raw materials within the depths of earth's bowels.
As time passed and the slaves worked further down into the mine shaft, they began to notice changes in their environment; hot steam would billow out of cracks in the rocks as if some giant creature beneath them breathed life into its surroundings. The heat became stifling and oppressive as they got closer to what seemed like an underground volcano beneath them. The smell of sulfur hung heavy in the air and mixed with other odors that revealed there was something else hidden deep inside this mountain of darkness – something unexplainable yet strangely inviting.
Eventually, after several hours spent hacking away at solid rock with primitive implements, Lu felt her pickaxe hit something strange – something metallic – buried deep within the cavernous walls of this frighteningly dark place. She shouted out in excitement and hope that perhaps she had hit paydirt!
John hurried over to join her at her celebration, but upon closer inspection it became clear that what she had found wasn't worth much.
It was not a good day to be a slave.
John supervised them as usual, making notes in his book when something interesting happened - when someone got injured, or when a piece of ore was found that was bigger than normal. He kept count of the slaves and moved from group to group, spurring them on with just his presence and sharp words. He kept count of all the slaves in his book and kept a watchful eye over their work. He never tired of reminding them that they were all working towards the same goal - to find vital resources deep underground so that their masters would be satisfied. And so, they carried on, dreaming of a better future while staying focused on the task at hand.
At least it's almost noon-time, he thought more than once that morning. As the thick fog rolled into the Redhorn Valley, John heard a rumbling coming from the depths of the mines. The hairs on his neck stood on end as he grasped the cold, hilt of his short stick. He parted from the others and proceeded deeper towards the source of the rumbling. What he saw next filled him with dread and he wondered.
John stood in awe as the light illuminated the mysterious figure. He recognized at once the statue of a higher being, long forgotten and untouched for eons. Its surface was cold and rough. Yet there was a strange warmth emanating from it that seemed to call out for John’s attention.
He approached cautiously and looked around before he noticed something quite remarkable - a long ray of light shooting up from the tip of the statue and piercing through the ceiling. A bolt of energy that seemed alive, almost like a beacon of hope in this dark place.
John couldn't help but feel drawn to its power, despite his fear. He felt compelled to touch it, to feel its warmth upon his skin and embrace whatever secrets it held. He stretched out his arm and gingerly placed his hand upon its surface.
The smooth granite was icy to the touch, the moisture in the air had condensed on the surface. It was cold to the touch but not uncomfortable.
The pillar had no texture to it, it was smooth like oiled glass, yet hard as stone. It was a mystery to John, the figure at the top of the pillar; the stone carving was so lifelike, so realistic.
John approached the figure cautiously, fearful of what he might find. As he came closer, he saw that it was a statue of a woman, her face tranquil and her hair and robes fluttering in the breeze. Her posture and the shape of her body conveyed strength and elegance.
John couldn’t look away, enraptured by the sculpture. Her eyes shone with a mysterious power, as if they were luring him nearer. The runes along the sides were blurry, like a mirror in a fog, yet John could sense their strength and antiquity.
John was awestruck by the statue, feeling its ancient power. He had never seen anything like it, and he had a deep feeling of admiration. He cautiously stepped closer to the statue, wanting to show respect. He reached out and lightly touched the cold stone. Instantly he felt a deep bond with it.
John peered into the crystal and saw his own face reflected in the stone. Suddenly he could feel the entire room around him. The room stretched out to infinite space and he could feel the universe around him. The way it tingled with vast expanses, the way it hummed with electricity. The statue was more than just a sculpture, it was a window into the very fabric of reality.
The stone statue was utterly alien to John, and yet there was something about it that connected him to it in an inexplicable way. The more he gazed upon the statue, the more it seemed to gaze back at him. The thing seemed familiar, like a forgotten dream. It also felt profoundly different, almost as if John were gazing upon a stranger from another world. The twisted carvings brought back echoes from the depths of his mind and then he remembered... He felt deeply connected to the universe, as if he could sense the vastness of space and time. He stared into the stone face of the statue and was beset by a profound sense of humility. In its eyes, he sensed an ancient power and wisdom, like a light that had been extinguished in ages past. He felt a cold wind brush against his face, as if all time and space itself were whispering to him. The air grew cold and still, as if life had just been quieted of all sound. John's own breathing echoed in his ears, but the sound was strangely distorted.
The wind carried a ghostly, eerie whisper of its own. There was a feeling of something strong, ancient and powerful that had been dormant for what felt like an eternity. It had taken a rest until now. On the doorstep of this new reality, the light still shone and time had not yet expired. There stood The Way and beside it leaned The Door.
John bowed low and felt the weight of the gods, as if an invisible shield had been placed over him, a protection from unseen forces. The grandeur of the ancient statue filled him with an awe he had never before known - for he could feel it’s ancient power and gaze upon the histories of so many ages. He felt a deep connection to the gods and his purpose, as if his destiny was to protect and serve them in some sacred way. He was humbled yet fulfilled by the power of this place.