The sun dipped into the horizon, orange colors washing across the sky as the wind brushed against them. Traveling north east of Thios Path, on a poorly made road, they came to the foot of the great mountain, Vareth Peak. Joran faintly remembered that the mountain was named in Azhen, the nearly forgotten language of the gods. ‘Va’ meant ‘great', ‘Eth' translated to either ‘fang' or ‘tooth’, he believed, but wasn’t quite sure.

  An enormous opening lay ahead, nearing fifty feet wide, a monumental wound carved into the foot of the mountain. The entrance to the underground city, The Shade, was accessible only through the mouth of the land.

  Two guards stood wearing old, rusted armor in front of the deep tunnel. The pauldrons on their shoulders’ painted in a fresh, vibrant yellow, along with the faulds on their waist. The remaining armor was painted a dark charcoal, colors that didn’t belong to any noble families Joran knew of. Henry led the group as they approached the stationed guards, hand on his hilt, ever cautious.

  “Good evening,” welcomed the guard on the left. “What is your reason for entering the city?”

  “We come as escorts for our good friend behind me,” Henry stated, nodding in the direction of the hooded Yohric. “A priest, Cursed by the Dead One, looking for a new home in a more welcoming city from which we hail.”

  “Understood,” The guard shook his head as he looked over the visitors, pausing on Joran as he cocked his head curiously. “Might you be our lordship, Joran Tarasian of the Court of All?”

  With a quick, anxious glance at Henry, Joran brought his sight back to the guard. “Yes, I am who you say, but how do you know of me?”

  “By the gods, I never expected to meet you outside The Shade!” The guard said excitedly. “Three years before I moved here, I lived in the Capital, where I’d watch you speak at public forums about new laws and problems of the sort. It was good to see at least one member of Court who was kind to its people.”

  The guard opposite him shot a surprised look at the one speaking. “Mind your tongue, you idiot!” He said in an angered whisper.

  “Oh, my lord!” realizing his unintended insult to the rest of the Court. “I just meant you have a strong sense of justice, and I appreciate your efforts for the land.” He stuttered nervously.

  “No harm done,” Joran said kindly, hoping to calm the guard’s nerves. “I understand what you meant, and it’s an honor to serve you as a member. No need for the formalities, lad, but I am curious whose colors you’re wearing? Which noble family lays claim to this city?”

  “Since nobles lose their titles once deemed as rejects of the gods, and no nobles move here willingly, our city is claimed by no families.”

  “Then who supplies the income for guards, the building, and sustaining of the infrastructure?” Henry questioned.

  “The guards, including us two, were guards in our previous cities, but we share afflictions, so we have come here to live among the others. The guards who patrol this city are paid by the Court of All’s coin, as is the maintenance of all things above the private businesses opened by the residents.” The guard to the right answered quickly, preventing the other from further embarrassment.

  I see, thank you for enlightening me. Now, if it's alright with you two, we’d best be heading onwards. We have a long journey back home once morning comes.”

  “Of course, sir, enjoy your time in The Shade.”

  Henry, still taking lead, kicked his horse forward into the maw of Vareth Peak, the others in tow. Joran and Henry lit their torches and began the descent, and in a short time, the light behind slowly shrank into the darkness, absorbed and corrupted by the cave as if it were an unwelcome visitor.

  Joran gripped the reins tightly as they trekked down the long road of stone that stretched beneath the country like a scar. The torchlight cast elongated shadows of themselves against the damp walls, and echoes of hooves bounced, filling the room between them. Joran felt more and more tense as they trotted on.

  “Look, father,” Elise whispered breathily as if she were a mouse trespassing on someone’s property. Foreign torchlight was born from the shadows ahead.

  “Most likely, citizens taking leave of the city, nothing to be worried about,” Joran replied, reassuring her, but he wasn’t convinced by his own words.

  Illuminated enough by their torch, he could see they wore smiles across their faces as they laughed quietly in their conversation, passing by them in no rush.

  “Perhaps the city isn’t as dark and gloomy as this path,” Henry said jokingly, surprised by the cheerfulness of the others.

  “We will surely find out soon,” Yohric spoke, still hesitant to give way to false hope.

  They could see multiple lanterns ahead, hung from the wide columns carved from rock. A tall, thick silver gate was opened from the middle, welcoming the party into the mysterious city. The guards stationed on either side paid them no mind as they passed.

  Through the gates, the carved tunnel became incredibly wide and much brighter. Lanterns hung from the sides of buildings in plenty, and some even out of reach above the smoothed street they stood.

  Stone houses stretched far past his vision to the left and right. The unscathed oak-wooden doors and windows void of candlelight implied these homes were still vacant.

  Joran looked up, raising his head as far back as he could, barely able to make out the ceiling far above. He could see, however, the tops of high buildings that reminded him of the official buildings in Thio’s Reach. They could hear murmured talk, the clanging of metal, and occasional yells from down the main street.

  He found himself visualizing all of the echoes this city had heard from before its time, and the echoes that were soon to be born in its future.

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  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised, at the very least,” Henry spoke as everyone continued to examine. “I didn’t expect the houses and streets to be made so modern and with care.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Serene said in confused awe as her head swiveled from building to building.

  Joran, too, was astonished by the architecture and craftsmanship they poured into The Shade. He recalled a meeting in the Court of All conference room in which they discussed how much coin to deposit into the construction and carving for the underground city. He didn’t remember an exact figure, but remembered it was a far larger amount than he expected. Joran theorized that they wanted the underground city to be an enjoyable place so the rejected wouldn’t fight against the attempt of exile. Forcing them out to the wilderness would have been an option, but that would have guaranteed a spark of rebellion and civil war for the cities that stood with the afflicted.

  “I wonder if the rest of the city is as empty as this,” Elise blurted out. “No one even lives in this section from what I can tell.”

  Joran led his horse next to the priest and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s continue and explore. This new home is showing more promise than expected.”

  Yohric looked at him with sad eyes, but spoke cheerfully. “Yes, the four have at least blessed this city for the eyes of whoever beholds it. Let us see ahead and observe the locals.”

  Joran felt an ache in his heart for his friend, but was happy he wouldn’t be living in a place that resembled a poor man's hell. He knew Yohric was delighted with his new home, but the sting of leaving everything behind would persist nonetheless. No matter what lay deeper in the forest of stone, Joran could make peace with this.

  Continuing, they began seeing house windows glowing, people wandering the street, some sitting outside of taverns drinking ale. The liveliness and crowd grew in size as they neared the center of the city.

  After one left and a turn right, they stumbled into a grand market, populated by a sea of people of all backgrounds. Taverns and inns wrapped around the circle of wooden merchant stands, selling everything from fruits and vegetables found in the region outside to clothes of poor and fine materials. Tools, butchers, medicinal herbs, and even palm reading stands numbered the bazaar.

  Pillars towered every fifty feet or so, burdened by the weight of the world above. Homes and storefronts were varied in designs, some carved and others painted, adding personality and life to the stones. Numerous paths could be seen leading to courtyards, lined with benches and littered with low-light plants and flowers that required no aid from the sun. Each courtyard opened into deep wells, drawing water from underground rivers, while terraces and wooden bridges above the streams linked neighborhoods in a network of pathways. No sun, no moon, and out of sight from the gods, the city breathed life.

  Jumping off his steed and tethering it to a nearby pole, Joran spoke to the group. “It’s so busy our horses won't have room to breathe, let alone walk. I’ll watch the horses if you’d help Yohric find his new house and familiarize himself with the city.” He asked Henry as he stretched his legs.

  “I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing more of this city myself,” Henry said casually, trying not to seem excited, but Joran could read him. A thought occurred to him that now, Henry might not be so hesitant to bring his family here. A safer environment for his wife and son in a beautiful new place. Selfishly, he thought, another friend to leave me in a city of serpents.

  Yohric pulled back his hood, at last feeling safe enough to do so without fear of repercussion, and gave a thankful nod to Joran. “I pray that we may meet again soon. I must repay my debt to you next time, my dear friend.”

  “Put a word in to the gods for me and consider your debt paid,” Joran replied with a slight bow and a grin. “Now go and start your next chapter, priest.”

  “Can I go with you, Father?” Serene asked excitedly. “The people seem no different from the Capital, so I doubt it’s any more dangerous,” she pleaded.

  Henry laughed as he shared in her enthusiasm. “Of course, let's help the preacher find his way around.”

  “Can Elise join us?” Serene asked, looking at Joran.

  Everyone was so quiet and tense the last few weeks of travel, Joran forgot Elise and Serene had been childhood friends for a moment. He smiled and shook his head lightly so that no one could see, realizing the tension got to him as well.

  Elise looked up at her father, her amber eyes begged him to read her thoughts. “Go on, Elise. Just be careful and listen to Henry. I’ve heard they act like animals down here—one may be tempted to bite you.” He winked as he facetiously used her words against her.

  She tilted her head and dropped her shoulders as if to say, I was wrong for what I said. I’m sorry. She ran over and grabbed Serene’s waiting hand, and they ventured off into the sea of the rejected, losing sight of them in only a few steps.

  Joran glanced around, content with what The Shade had become—a sanctuary for the afflicted.

  “Have a safe journey back, Tabaris!” He heard a woman shout. He spun, perplexed by the familiar name, and there he stood. Tabaris Thurgon, Commerce Minister of the Court of All. It was hard to mistake the heavyset man, his long grey beard stretching to the bottom of his chest. His balding head was left with a few stray hairs, not as lucky as his chin. He walked with a group of four women in sewn rags, making haste towards the exit of the market.

  “Tabaris?” Joran asked loudly in his direction. “The four must be blessing me. I never reckoned I’d see you here!”

  Tabaris turned to meet the familiar voice, a smirk formed fast, seeing a friend from the Capital. “Joran of the Court! With all the new businesses opening here, it was much easier to visit in person, oversee the paperwork, and whatnot. But what in Staterra’s name are you doing this far north, my good sir?” He inquired warmly, changing the subject rather quickly.

  “I’m escorting my companion, the priest I told you about months ago.”

  “Ah, yes! Cursed by the Dead One, if memory serves me right. It is always a pleasure to see you outside of work matters, but I must be heading off. You know how long the journey back is and all.”

  “My lordship, are we not setting off now?” A woman with fogged-over eyes asked, facing slightly in the wrong direction. Kissed by the Blind One, she was cursed by the goddess of life, Staterra, from birth. Born into a world where light never existed—an affliction Joran was most thankful to not receive.

  Tabaris nodded his head in agreement to her, then added, “Yes, we are dear.”, realizing she couldn’t see him.

  “Before I wish you well, I must ask.” Joran began with intensity. “Since you and I will not be making it back in time for the upcoming Court meeting, our Court assistants will be sitting in on our behalf. My assistant was directed to hold against Damian’s law to execute afflicted living in the Capital.”

  “Of course,” Tabaris said somewhat impatiently, looking back at his group.

  Joran continued, paying no mind. “Do you trust that your aide will vote against Damian’s aggressive stance? With seven votes, his law will pass.”

  “I fully trust my assistant will stand with my decision. I know Damian will stoop low for his desires, but he will not be victorious this month.” Tabaris said with sincerity. “And if somehow, his amendment passes, we can repeal it next month with our two votes.”

  “Yes, but a month is too lon—”

  “I really must be going, but I wish you well on your trip back.” Tabaris interrupted abruptly as he shuffled back to the group of women waiting for him. Taking the blind girl's hand, he marched on. “Farewell, Joran!”

  He wondered where he could be going with, presumably, a group of afflicted women. A question he’d have to ask him before their next Court meeting.

  Finding a seat nearest to the horses, Joran sat and asked a bar wench for a seasonal ale. He pondered while observing the vastness of the cave. It was carved much deeper, but it was a grand cavern to begin with. Enjoying the glee of the citizens, he waited patiently for Henry and the girls to return.