love

I'm standing in the cavernous maw of the old mine, where the walls pulse with a ghostly luminescence from embedded crystals. The air is thick with dust and the metallic tang of ore, and every footstep echoes off the stone like the beat of an ancient war drum. Around me, soldiers clad in patchworked armor—gleaming metal interlaced with runic engravings—move with measured urgency.

In a narrow corridor chiseled by time, a squad gathers near a console where engineers and mages huddle over intricate gauges and levers. They're calibrating experimental weapons—a curious blend of alchemical energy and advanced metallurgy, promising to shatter both rock and foe. I watch as one soldier, his face set in a determined grimace, tightens the final bolt on what looks like a plasma-infused pickaxe, its edge sparking with untamed energy.

A low murmur of final instructions drifts from the command post. Our commander, a stern figure cloaked in a dark, embroidered mantle, paces before us. His eyes sweep over the assembled troops, each soldier's expression a mix of trepidation and resolve. "Today, we test not only our might but our very faith in what we can become," he intones, his voice resonating through the cavern like the call of a battle horn.

All around, small groups make their final checks: straps are fastened, weapons are reloaded, and whispered words of courage and remembrance pass between comrades. The experiment we're about to undertake isn't merely a trial of new armaments—it's a leap into the unknown depths of our own limits. The mine itself seems to hold its breath, its ancient stones witness to the stirring of hope and defiance in the heart of humanity.

I can feel the tension crackle in the air, mingling with the ever-present hum of the machinery deep within the rock. With every beat of my heart, I realize we're not just preparing for a fight—we're on the cusp of rewriting our fate in these hallowed, echoing tunnels. 

i think it will be great if i became free but i look to her and remember who make it start she need me i need her too but dreams occupy a paradoxical space within the human condition, serving as both the embodiment of transcendent aspiration and the harbinger of despair. They are not merely personal constructs but intricate manifestations of humanity's existential yearning—a relentless pursuit that oscillates between creative ingenuity and annihilation. Among these dreams, those unattainable by their very nature wield the most profound influence: the desire to conquer mortality, to reshape the inexorable flow of time, to master the immutable contours of fate. Such ambitions elude even the most resolute, leaving an indelible ache in their wake, a testament to the fragile limits of human striving.

"You speak of dreams as if they are a curse," she said, her voice a quiet thread that pierced the enveloping darkness. Her gaze met mine, a flicker of vulnerability amidst the encroaching shadows. "Why do you dismiss them so easily? Aren't they the one thing no one can strip from us?"

Her question lingered, but my thoughts were consumed by my own dream—a singular vision forged in the crucible of vengeance. Unlike the lofty abstractions of love or peace, my dream is an inferno of hatred, kindled by profound suffering and sustained by an ever-deepening chasm of despair. It is a construct not of hope, but of pain—a specter that reshapes reality into a battleground of unyielding confrontation. How could anyone, even her, comprehend such a dream? It is not a beacon, but a void—a relentless absence of reprieve.

"Dreams can imprison as much as they liberate," I said, the weight of my torment pressing upon each word. "Mine is not a vision of hope or salvation. It is vengeance—a consuming fire that leaves only ash in its path."

Her hand reached toward me, trembling yet resolute, brushing against mine as though seeking to anchor me. "You are more than that," she said softly. "You're not just pain and anger. You saved me. That wasn't vengeance. That was something else."

I turned away, the fragility of her words stirring something in me I refused to name. What is a dream, truly? Is it a fleeting echo of the soul's aspirations, or a distorted reflection of its deepest fears? Perhaps it exists as both, a dialectic veiled in the illusions of purpose. My dream resists such introspection; it is singular and immutable, a declaration of my resolve. My suffering is mine alone, a festering wound that sustains even as it scars. Yet she—does she see it? Does she grasp the essence of my torment, or does she cling to an illusion of understanding?

Her eyes glistened, reflecting emotions I could not parse. "I see you," she whispered. "And I'm still here. Isn't that enough?"

I am drawn back to the first day we met, a moment seared into my memory with unrelenting clarity. Silence defined that meeting, an unspoken tension binding us in its grip. I recall the fear in her eyes, a mirror of the dread that churned within me. Why had she feared me? Was it the specter of what I had become, or the reality of the blood I had shed to protect her? I had saved her, but at what cost? The lives I extinguished in her name lingered as specters, haunting every quiet moment.

"You carry too much alone," she said, her voice breaking the heavy silence between us. "Every choice you made wasn't yours alone to bear. You saved me because you couldn't let him win. That was not a sin."

Her words pierced through the walls I had erected, yet I could not acknowledge them fully. The irony of our journey was not lost on me: once, I had sought to halt her path, yet now she urged me to persist. The immutable had softened, like jagged stone weathered into something resembling tenderness.

"Even bedrock can feel," I murmured, my voice a fragile echo. "Not after carrying your soul for so long."

"You saved me," she had said once, her voice trembling under the weight of her confession. "And you killed them too." Those words had lingered, haunting in their simplicity, an immutable truth that demanded acknowledgment. Yet hesitation has no place in our reality. We are bound to this fight, propelled by necessity and the inexorable weight of what must be done. The world allows no room for regret.

My existence, my very purpose, has become singular: to shield her from the darkness that surrounds us. Yet to see her now, fragile and vulnerable, rends me in ways I cannot articulate. The dichotomy of her strength and her fragility defines her, and it is a reminder of why I endure.

"Sleep now," I whispered, my tone uncharacteristically tender. "Let the dreams take you, if only for a while."

Even as I spoke, I knew my words were but a fragile comfort. Her dreams, like mine, would be tainted by the shadows we could not escape. Yet, for now, she would sleep, and I would stand vigil. The encroaching darkness would not consume us—not while I breathed, not while I endured.

The tunnels of Black Hollow Mine were silent, the only sound the faint scrape of Jim's boots on the rocky floor. He ventured deeper than ever before, drawn by an inexplicable pull. His lamp cast flickering shadows, barely illuminating the tight walls as he pressed on.

At the heart of a forgotten chamber, Jim froze. Before him stood a colossal crystalline structure, its surface glowing faintly with an inner radiance. He approached, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch its cold surface. Inside, he could see her.

Encased in the crystal was a figure—a woman of otherworldly beauty. Her form seemed human but also something more, an intricate interplay of flesh and crystal. She radiated a serene grace, her face calm, as if caught in eternal sleep. Jim's heart pounded in his chest, an ache of awe and fear warring within him.

He turned to leave, his mind spinning with questions, but his path was blocked by the sound of heavy boots. Lorn appeared at the chamber entrance, flanked by five of his men. Their lanterns bobbed in the darkness, casting harsh light over the scene.

"You've been sneaking around, boy," Lorn growled, his voice echoing off the walls. "And now I see why."

Jim took a step back, his hands raised. "I didn't do anything! I just found it—I swear!"

Lorn's eyes narrowed. "Found it? This maining belongs to the king, and any crystal inside it does too." He motioned for two of his men. "Get it out of there."

The two men moved toward the crystal, their hands brushing the smooth surface as they studied it for any cracks or weaknesses. Meanwhile, Lorn turned his full attention to Jim.

"You think you can steal from the king and get away with it?" Lorn snarled. He shoved Jim backward, his strength sending the boy sprawling onto the rocky ground.

Jim scrambled to his feet, but Lorn was on him. His fist connected with Jim's jaw, the blow sending pain radiating through his skull. "Thieves like you don't deserve mercy," Lorn spat.

Two more guards grabbed Jim, pinning his arms while Lorn struck him again. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to breathe.

The fifth man, stationed at the chamber's entrance, glanced back nervously at the scene. His grip tightened on his weapon as if sensing something was wrong.

Jim's plea for mercy was cut short by a sudden, deafening crack. The crystalline structure split open, and a blinding red light burst from within, filling the chamber.

The sound was unbearable, an eerie, resonant hum that shook the walls. Jim barely registered the chaos around him as the guards stumbled back, shielding their eyes.

The two men closest to the crystal turned, their faces twisted in confusion. But before they could react, the red light flared violently, and they fell to the ground without a sound, their bodies motionless.

Jim's mind struggled to keep up with what was happening. One moment, Lorn was yelling orders, his voice sharp and commanding. The next, the room was filled with a sickening crack and the sound of bodies hitting stone.

It all happened so fast.

The last thing Jim saw before the light dimmed was Lorn's wide-eyed face, his mouth open in a silent scream. The guards beside him dropped in quick succession, their lives snuffed out in an instant. The one by the entrance turned and ran, his footsteps fading into the tunnel.

When the light faded, Jim's senses returned in fragments. The coppery scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the acrid tang of fear. He blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim chamber.

She stood there, fully free from the shattered crystal. Her body was a perfect blend of human and gemstone, her glowing form exuding an unearthly presence. And she was naked.

Jim's cheeks burned as he stared, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. But her gaze was fixed not on him but on the fallen men around her.

The room was silent save for a single sound.

Drip.

A droplet of blood fell from her hand, striking the stone floor with a quiet finality.

Jim trembled as her eyes turned to him, unreadable and yet strangely calm. She moved forward, slow and deliberate. He flinched, thinking his end had come.

But instead of striking, she stood over him, gazing down at him with an intensity that made his breath hitch. Her presence was overwhelming, her proximity both terrifying and strangely magnetic.

Her eyes, glowing faintly, turned back to Jim.

Then, to his utter astonishment, she leaned down.

He braced himself, certain her next move would be to end his life.

But instead, her lips met his.

The kiss was soft yet powerful, filled with something he couldn't describe. It was as though she was imprinting something upon him—a connection, a mark, a silent understanding.

When she pulled back, her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. Then, without a word, she turned and walked back to the shattered remains of the crystal. Sitting among the shards, she folded her legs, resting her hands on her knees. Her eyes never left his.

Still trembling, Jim hesitated before stepping forward. Jim's trembling hand reached out to one of the fallen guards. He tugged at the man's coat, his fingers fumbling to remove it. Holding it out to her, he whispered hoarsely,

"Here... take this."

Wrapping it around herself, she secured it loosely, its size far too large for her slender frame.

her silent presence both unnerving and oddly comforting.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the tunnel as the lone surviving guard returned, accompanied by a group of armed miners and the foreman.

The foreman stopped at the chamber's entrance, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. Bodies lay crumpled in pools of blood, the strange woman sitting serenely amidst the glowing remnants of the crystal.

"What happened here?" he demanded, his voice shaking.

The guard pointed a trembling finger at Jim. "It was her," he stammered, his face pale. "She came out of the crystal and killed them all."

Jim sat on the ground, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just happened. His gaze returned to her, still seated amidst the crystal shards, her glowing eyes fixed on him.

Twenty men surrounded us, their swords drawn as they attacked together. But she killed them one by one. She broke one man's hand, then cut down another. She was fast—lightning fast. She took a sword from one of them and used it to kill another.

I was too busy fighting to notice the man behind me. He grabbed me, but she threw a sword into his head, killing him instantly.

Oh no! The royal guards had entered the cave. The men we were fighting panicked. How were we supposed to fight them too? But to my surprise, their leader spoke.

"I am Captain John Richardson. Surrender or face death."

"Oooh, you nobles," sneered the bandit leader. "I'll kill you and send you back to your king in pieces!"

With that, the two leaders clashed, and their men turned their focus away from us. The royal guards had better training and superior gear. They killed seven bandits and captured five. Three tried to flee toward us, but she killed them effortlessly. Their leader took his own life, and the last man dropped his weapon in surrender.

Now that the battle was over, the royal guards turned to us. Were they going to fight us next?

"Relax," one of the guards said. "You're safe now. These bandits have controlled this mine for too long. It belongs to us now."

I grabbed her hand and whispered, "It's safe now. Calm down." She looked at me and slowly stepped behind me as we approached the captain.

"Good job, kid," Captain Richardson said. "Now explain—who are you? And what is she?"

I told him everything that had happened, including what I knew about her.

"Interesting," he mused. "I'll call my lord. He may have some answers."

We followed him to the main building in the center of the mine. There, we met his lord—a man clad in full-body armor, his golden hair shining under the torchlight. His white and blue armor bore the insignia of nobility. He looked older than me, an unmistakable noble.

"Brave boy," he said. "My captain has told me what happened and how you fought the bandits."

"Sir, I didn't kill them—it was her."

"Yes, I know. A living gem," he said knowingly.

"A living gem? What is that, sir?"

"Oh, you don't know? They are warriors who fight alongside mankind. But she looks different from the ones I've seen before. Her hair and eyes... she's stronger, too."

I remained silent as he studied her. Then he spoke again.

"She's going to change your life—I can say that for sure."

"How?" I asked.

"Do you want to join the royal guard? She is your golden ticket out of this mine."

"That's great, but... I want revenge for my family."

"The bandits killed your family too?" he asked with sympathy.

"No, they were killed in the Rosalia Colony. I'm from there. My family fought to defend it, but they died."

"Then join us," he urged. "This is your best chance. And we need you as much as you need us. We can train her, too."

I hesitated. "It doesn't work like that... You need me to join if you want that."

"And if you don't join?" he asked.

"Then you'll consider me your enemy," I said bitterly.

"She's a powerful weapon, kid," the noble said. "If you don't join us, you'll fall into enemy hands, and that would be dangerous. But you have time to think about it. In three days, we will meet the king. I will introduce you to him. If you want, you can come with us."

"Can I think about your offer?"

"Of course," Captain Richardson said.

"What is there to think about?" his first-in-command scoffed. "This is your biggest chance to escape this mine."

"Leave him be, Jacob," the captain said. "But know this—your life is in danger now that you have her. She is a powerful weapon, and some won't hesitate to kill you to get to her. The king can protect you. He can also teach you how to use her properly."

I sighed. "I know, Captain. But right now, I need to get out of this cave. These dead bodies remind me too much of the day Rosalia Colony fell."

They spoke like they cared, but I knew the truth—they wanted her. If I didn't join them, they would probably try to kill me or force me to comply. Even Captain Richardson seemed kind, but who knew what he would do if things didn't go as his king wanted?

And then there was her. She had saved my life. I owed her for that. If she could help me get revenge for my family, then maybe this was my chance.

As I left the cave, I turned left toward the workers' dormitory. I walked for a while before a soldier called out, telling me to stop. I turned to see what he wanted.

"The captain has arranged a place for you in the main building to sleep," he said.

I sighed. "I guess he wants to keep an eye on me."

"Fine," I said. "Let me grab my stuff from the dorm, and then I'll go."

"Okay. Follow me, kid."

We walk into the main building, a circular-shaped structure that acts as the main center of operation. We need to go through it to reach other parts of Maing. The man tells me to wait for him—he will get me permission to return to the dorm. I wait outside the main building. The road to the exit is in front of me. Maybe I should run as far as possible before he comes back, but where? I am not familiar with the terrain outside Maing. I came here by wagon with other kids. We were 100, but now only 10 of us are alive. They were my family for the last three months. It was a hard time, but I think it is the end of it, thanks to her.

The officer comes back and says, "Follow me." But a group of soldiers follows us too.

"Why are they following us?" I ask him.

"For your safety. The captain cares about you a lot, lucky boy."

I say nothing and follow him in silence. We get to the dorm. I ask the officer to wait for me outside. I open the door to the kitchen and see the other kids. They all look at me.

"Where did you go? Jim, we were worried about you!" Ethan asks me. Before I can answer, Henry speaks.

"And who is she?"

Sophia and Emily come closer and smile.

"We are glad you are fine, but it is too late. We should sleep now.

Maybe we can talk tomorrow," Benjamin says, followed by William and Lucas.

Oliver, grabbing my hand. "Did you eat? I made delicious potato soup."

"Yes, sure. I am hungry."

He runs to get me some potato soup. "It got cold, sorry."

"It's great," I say, smiling at him. I start eating and tell them what happened.

"That's great, but why are soldiers standing outside the dorm?" Ethan asks.

"I am here to take my stuff and go back with them to the main building. I will sleep there tonight. Emily, can you get me my bag?"

"I will get it," she says.

I go to the boys' sleeping room to get my stuff.

"So, you are their prison now?"

I answered William "We are already prisoners,"

"I am just sleeping in a better place tonight," I reply.

I get my stuff when I hear Sophia shout, "Leave him alone!"

I run out fast to see soldiers capturing Henry.

"Put him down, officer!" I yell.

"Let's go," the officer says, and they release Henry.

"You are late, let's go."

Emily gives me my bag and hugs me. "Be careful."

"I will be," I assure her. We get out of the dorm. The officer walks ahead, but the soldiers stay there.

"Why aren't they coming with us?" I ask.

"No, they will stay here to keep them safe. Maybe rebels still linger here."

"Okay." I follow him to the main office