Even with the biting cold rain, standing alongside Drackar’s crew, watching the progress and helping where I could, made me feel a bit better. Unfortunately, the work was dragging—far too slow for my liking.

“Why is it taking so long?” I asked.

Borokhout sighed. “The ground’s too unstable. I’m wasting a lot of time and energy just trying to hold it together, pushing it until it solidifies. If only we could reinforce the walls better! Captain, could Werhar help? Maybe burn the walls to harden them?”

Drackar glanced at Borokhout, the Earthmage, and shrugged. “We could try, but Werhar will run out of mana just covering this surface. You’d need a dragon’s breath to do it right. Problem is, the tunnels are too narrow for Lady Lores’ dragon.”

He’d said it in jest, but once the words were out, he paused, raised a brow, and gave me a curious look. Was he assuming I was a dragon? I sighed. It wasn’t a huge leap—if Sid, a dragon, calls me ‘ma’, it only made sense to assume I might be one too.

The thought stirred something uneasy in me: today he’d called me Lores. That felt... off. Sid’s voice had been distant lately, and now, using my name instead of ‘ma’—was he starting to feel estranged from me?

“Do you think you could cast a spell to burn the surface of this tunnel? It’s mostly clay and stone,” Drackar eventually asked, and this time, he was looking straight at me.

I took a deep breath. I could try a firebolt or fireball, but that would just blow the wall apart. A weak fire spell would only warm it a little. I didn’t know a spell like firebreath. Did my dragon form have that ability? Maybe, but I hadn’t tried it. And transforming into a dragon wasn’t an option—the shaft was far too narrow.

Did firebreath carry over to my human form? I wondered. Should I try spitting at the wall? That idea seemed ridiculous, but how exactly did dragon firebreath work? Was it some kind of burning saliva? Did dragons have glands that secreted incendiary liquids?

The others had already moved on, discussing more practical ideas like increasing the number of support beams. Parts of the shaft were dangerously close to caving in. The water mage could repel the water, but that would only help a section of the tunnel, and he couldn't both hold back the water and drain it from the bottom at the same time.

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my dragon breath. If I could channel it, maybe I could finally be really useful. Just as I felt like I might be getting somewhere, I heard alarmed yells.

Snapping my eyes open, I saw large swathes of the earth wall in front of me had turned into glossy sheets of glass—or was it porcelain?—and the wooden support beams had been reduced to charred logs.

“Oops!”

The water mage directed the stream towards the charred beams, and a burst of steam erupted from the wall, clouding the air.

“That’ll do!” Drackar said, as if this was exactly what he’d expected. “But coordinate with Egger to protect the beams. Maybe burn the walls before they put in the support next time. I’ll head up and bring an air mage into this sauna—we need fresh air channeled down here.”

Egger, the water mage, nodded.

As for me, the dragon breath wasn’t coming out of my mouth, even though I stood there with it open like an idiot. Instead, it seemed to form around my horns, shooting out in dark jets of burning smoke, straight in front of me or toward wherever my eyes were focused. The temperature quickly soared to unbearable levels, but the walls had solidified—now hardened ceramic or molten rock, cooled and strong. It wasn’t fire in the traditional sense, but the results were far beyond what any normal flame could achieve.

I wiped the sweat from my brow while two ice mages from Drackar's forces worked hard to cool the still-molten rock. We’d been working together like a well-oiled tunnel-boring machine for some time now. My fire-spewing seemed almost limitless. Glancing around, I noticed that most of the orcs were running around in nothing but shorts.

I hesitated, then decided to peel off my leather dress—it was just too hot. My undergarments looked enough like a bathing suit that it seemed fine. Egger, the water mage, handed me a giant cup of water, which I gladly accepted. As I took a long drink, I overheard Borokhout, the Earth mage, talking.

“We’ve reached their level. One of the tunnels leads in that direction,” he said, pointing. “That’s where most of the miners should be.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Just as I turned towards him, the orc woman standing beside him looked at me. “Lady Lores, aren’t you hungry? Would you like to join us?”

She was chewing on what looked like a giant fried bird leg and gestured towards an improvised table nearby, where six or seven orcs were seated, eating heartily.

Only then did I realize how hungry I was.

“Give those poor folks a break—they're out of mana and have downed as many mana potions as they can,” Borokhout chuckled, nodding towards the ice mages.

One of them had already retched after trying to choke down another potion. The poor souls sat beside us, trying to recover.

Without a second thought, I went and sat down beside them.

While eating, I heard the familiar sound of scratching against the wall, followed by a heavy thud as Drackar landed beside us. His unnerving ability to scale and descend almost any vertical surface was on full display, even though Borokhout had built a spiral staircase along the shaft walls.

The orcs were quicker on foot, sprinting up and down those stairs rather than using the heavy elevator platform suspended in the center of the shaft.

Heavy platforms full with earth were carried by foot up on those stairs while the elevator brought down the empty platforms to refill. Stacking platforms turned out to be much more efficient than lugging wheelbarrows, and in the past few hours, we'd made surprisingly swift progress.

“It’s night,” Drackar said, glancing at us. “Those who are tired need to step out for a break and get a few hours of sleep.” Then he added bluntly, “It won’t help anyone if you push yourselves to the point of collapse. That’ll just slow everything down.”

He then turned to Borokhout, the Earthmage. “Did you tell her?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Borokhout replied wearily as he sat down at the table. “A break will do me some good too,” he added, sounding drained.

Tell me what? I wondered, though I didn’t have to wait long.

“Well, go on and tell her,” Drackar urged, making himself comfortable between a couple of orcs and grabbing a portion of food.

As I turned toward Borokhout, curiosity piqued, he began to speak.

“Not only were the beams too sparse…”

“But the engineer said they followed the royal standards!” I interrupted.

He chuckled. “Did he now?” he mused, then sighed. “The royal standard also requires the work of an Earthmage to solidify the walls. Did he mention that? No? Because it wasn’t done! And on top of that, I found these tiny crystals—do you see?”

He pulled a handful of dust from his pocket. I raised an eyebrow.

“What’s with that dust?” I asked, puzzled.

“Well, this peculiar sand is the residue from an explosive,” he explained. “There are special kinds of crystals used in mining as explosives. The explosion can be triggered by a specific mana wave, and I also found traces of crystals used to amplify those mana waves. This matches what the couple of survivors said—that there were explosions.”

“But this is a mining operation. Isn't it normal to use explosives? That must be why you found them,” I said with a shrug.

He shook his head, his jaw tightening.

“No. Not according to the miners. They say no explosives were used. You think they wouldn’t know? Ask them yourself.”

“And you’re certain just because of these tiny pieces? How could you even find them? Is this dust really that special?” I asked, skeptical.

He nodded, chuckling.

“Yes, you need to be an Earthmage to sense and separate them, but these are undeniable proof. The explosive residue and the mana wave amplification traces—this wasn’t an accident.”

I took a deep breath.

“You’re telling me this was deliberate?” I asked, my voice low.

He shrugged.

“That’s the conclusion I’ve come to. It’s probably not aimed directly at you, but more likely at us,” he said, gesturing to the other orcs and himself.

I exhaled slowly, trying to process. Could he be right? I wondered, the thought settling uneasily in my mind.