In my childhood, Master Agadon acted as an eager storyteller and teacher whom I loved. Thanks to his enthusiasm, I learned about different types of sclenite. About black, gray and clear. For centuries, glaziers were careful not to mine more than they needed. And so many of the mines located around the cities were still full.

The black sclenite had the greatest representation and use. Around every town there were at least three black sclenite mines. It was the most common and the most exported. It even became a major component of the machines that people in the lowlands flew or rode on. Mother had never seen such a machine and could not describe it to me. Everything in the vicinity of the retea was losing power. Hovercraft were falling hopelessly to the ground, devices created by lowlanders were even exploding. Some parts of their bodies, replaced by artificial objects, led to their own death. The master told us that the area around the retea was not accessible to the people of the lowlands, and if they got access, they had to be completely healthy. I had no idea why the lowlanders had isolated us like that, and Master didn't explain.

"If you're lucky, Ilan, and I believe you will be, you'll understand one day." That was his entire response. One sentence and then he went back to teaching about sclenite.

Next was the gray sclenite. It was of higher quality and the energy in it was cleaner. In the shield area there were only twelve mines where it was mined. In the lowlands, it was used in industry and as the main source of energy in the cities there.

"But for that you need listeners whose gift is a little different," said the master. “Each of the three types of sclenite contains an incredible amount of energy. But only some glaziers can control it. It takes a lot of feeling and also experience. Especially when it comes to the energy that supplies the entire city. If you misdirect the energy in a small piece of black sclenite, it just won't work the way it's supposed to…”

"How?" Bazil blurted out, fidgeting uneasily in his mantle. He had it wrapped differently than usual. I could imagine how eager he was to take it off and how excited he was to get home. "I still don't get it. My mother told me that the first sclenite that was found was heated, but I have never seen one like that. All the stones that the lapidaries grind are cold."

The lapidaries used their polizors to give the sclenite shapes that we did not understand. Only the people of the lowlands knew exactly what happened to the mineral and what it was used for after it left the sclenite cities.

The Master sighed and then walked over to Bazil's desk.

“Nothing is working as it should, Bazil. The stone only starts heating when it leaves the retea area,” he tried to explain. “Any other energy created by the lowlanders would be immediately absorbed by the retea. It's different with sclenite. The energy remains in the stone, but can only be used in the lowlands. We only process sclenite here. If it weren't for the lapidaries and their sensitive hearing, sclenite would have remained just a stone pleasant to the touch. And even if there was an energy that the retea couldn't control, no one would allow such a thing for fear of breaking the shield.”

I was already taking a breath to point out to the master about one piece of glass that works as it should, that is used often, and that has yet to break the shield. Viata. I remembered very well how the pasarela used it. How the warmth filled our koliba and how the pain left Fedor's body. But I decided to remain silent. Although the master was one of us, viata was not to be spoken of.

“Not even the guard's black sclenite swords work?” Bazil asked in disappointment as he realized that he would never see the true power of the mineral with his own eyes.

The master watched his disciple for a moment before shaking his head. “Unfortunately, Bazil. Sclenite swords are lighter than iron swords, more maneuverable and, thanks to glaziers, sharpened so that they can cut through even a thick branch with ease. Sometimes the air around them even sparkles. They are some of the sharpest and most dangerous weapons in the Duval Mountains. But you could only see their true power in the lowlands. They are the most dangerous precisely because of the energy they contain.”

There was silence in the master's study for a moment. I watched the lowered heads of the other apprentices and rubbed my hands. Although they were free, I could feel the handcuffs on them. The lowlanders weren't just stealing our lives, they were destroying the reason we were born in the first place. We will never feel the sclenite warm our hands. It only occasionally sings its song to the gifted.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“And then, my boys,” the master went on to distract us, “then there is the clear sclenite. The most perfect stone you can find in the world. Although it has been studied for generations, even glaziers do not really know it. The energy from the clear sclenite is actually the only one that at least partially works here. However, there are two mines left in the world where clear sclenite is mined, and therefore its usage is conserved, and only used occasionally to make swords or knives. Mining is difficult and it takes a long time for the sclenite to leave the mine. One is near Amaria and the other near Roghos, which is the last sclenite city south of the Duval Mountains. And why is it conserved? The clear sclenite is used to create the turnuls, between which a kind of a force field is subsequently created. It prevents the gray clouds from reaching us over the mountains. This is the most important and responsible job in the world. Most great discoveries happen by accident. And it was the same with the network. A lapidary by the name of Adrian Porodamos made a mistake many years ago while preparing a piece of sclenite. He sharpened one more marginea, which is the edge of the glass, and felt something strange. The sclenite spoke in a different voice. Even with an echo. So he ground another piece of it in the same way and followed an echo that his ear had never caught before. He moved and adjusted the sclenites in various ways, until his work bore fruits. A fereastra appeared. An invisible window that perfectly divides the space. But Mr. Porodamos burned himself to death because he did not fully understand his discovery. Fereastra protects us, but it is also dangerous. Nothing can pass through it. The water evaporates, the wind changes direction. A bird that tries to fly through will burn. You guys can't even imagine the conditions up there at the shield. Porodama's discovery was studied by other scientists until they perfected his work. Fereastra and turnuls are dangerous, but they've also given us a lot. The fields near the sclenite cities have never been so rich. Our air is the cleanest…”

Yes, our fields were rich. My mother used to say that the size of our fruits is said to be twice the size of those in the lowlands. Like other women who did not have to go to the mines, she went to work in the fields. She stood between piles of food every day and watched her children starve every night. Much of what was grown here was taken to the lowlands. The glazier women were not allowed to take even a leaf from the fields. If they did, immediate execution would follow.

"...And that's how the clear sclenite lapidary profession was born. Only the most gifted were devoted to this profession from an early age.” Master's eyes fell on me and I preferred to lower my head. “Even the best instrument made by the people of the lowlands could never detect the tiny bubbles that form during the casting process. And the turnuls must be made without a single flaw. This art is mastered only by glaziers, whom we call listeners, who are trained only to work with clear glass.”

The listeners, wearing special gloves with sclenite dust, caressed the solidified mineral, and it responded with a song so captivating that they could not listen to anything else. The master revealed to us that the most talented remain lonely all their lives. They can hear things that the normal human ear can't pick up, but they hardly hear a person's voice. Their gift is priceless and no human machine can match it. But at a high price. They used to be the most respected and the wealthiest in the sclenite-making cities. Once.

“And do you know, boys, what other treasure the clear sclenite hides inside?” asked Master Agadon as he took small steps around us.

We all looked at each other at once, but no one knew the answer.

“Lutomine!” the master whispered. He let the wonderful word hang in the air for a moment to impress our curiosity, and then continued. “It is from the clear sclenite that the lutomine is released. That's why there is so little of it.”

Every glazier has heard of this substance. Each of us knew that there was a cure for our ills and short lives. But no one really knew how it was made. We remained silent and barely breathed for fear that the master would not reveal the secret to us.

“Most glaziers work in black sclenite mines. There is no gray mine near Amaria, but there is one of the two mines with the clear sclenite. There are way fewer glaziers working there, and once they are sent away, they never come back, while glaziers from the black sclenite mines return home every day. The people of the lowlands keep that a secret.”

I noticed Bazil, Davor and Kastor nodding. But my mother never told me about this. She always only talked about the glaziers coming home. Did that mean no one was taken from our ghetto to the clear sclenite mine? Why?

“Why aren't listeners given lutomine when they are so rare?” I interrupted the master just as he was taking a breath to continue his story. Since I was the youngest, he narrowed his eyes again and answered patiently.

“As I mentioned before, lutomine is not enough. It cannot be replaced by anything or imitated in any way. It is highly prized in the lowlands and only the very rich can afford it. And then…” Master paused for a moment, and thought how to put it to help us understand the following words. "The listener is so connected to the sclenite that he doesn't need lutomine. Actually it has no effect on him. The listener's age cannot be influenced in any way. There were those who lived more than a hundred years, and others who died at a young age…”

“And how old are you, Master?” I blurted out another question.

Agadon smiled slightly and then knelt down next to me. "I won't tell you that," he shook his head slightly. "But I remember Amaria back in the days when it still belonged to the glaziers."

If we didn't have to wear voals over our faces, the master would probably have seen our mouths drop open in astonishment. Glaziers were enslaved generations ago. How long has Agadon lived? And without lutomine?

"But not even lutomine will give a person eternal life," the master went on to reveal the secret of the greatest sclenite-making discovery. “For everyone, lutomine decides itself when it stops working. For some, it will extend life by only a few decades, and for others by a whole century. Just like sclenite itself, this pink crystal cannot be controlled by anyone. It just has its own head."

It warmed my heart to learn that even lutomine couldn't give the lowlanders what they craved and enslaved us for. They were not in control of their loot. On the contrary, lutomine controlled them.