Chapter 28 – Deeper Layers

The entrance to Umbryss Academy was plain—at least, by surface standards. No ornate carvings, no crawling ivy, no colorful banners. What greeted you was a set of seamlessly interlocking iron gates and stone doors sculpted directly into the cavern wall. They stood smooth and featureless, carved from dark basalt, a perfect display of Deepshy precision. Not built to impress, but to impose. The air around them thrummed with stored energy, a low vibration that rattled Menna’s teeth as they approached.

She hesitated and turned towards Kaeloris and Vazko.

“So… no sign? No looming statues of long-dead Deepshy scholars looking smug?” she teased.

“Why waste the material? Everyone who matters already knows what’s inside,” Kaeloris scoffed.

He stepped forward and the gates slid open to the sides. Vazko followed and beckoned to Menna to match their steps. Kaeloris continued advancing, and just before he would have walked right into a basalt slab, it rose to the ceiling. Menna hurried behind the two Deepshy, looking nervously up at the stone, lest it come smashing down on her. One last slab sank into the floor, revealing a vast antechamber lit by arclith sconces embedded in the walls.

Seated at a central desk was Registrar Maryst—a Deepshy woman with an expression of perpetual exasperation, barely concealed beneath the carefully neutral mask of a seasoned administrator. Her velvet robes were threaded with thin veins of glowing arclith script. As they stepped inside, she made a show of scrolling through a glowing slate of records before setting it down and finally looking up when Kaeloris cleared his throat.

“You must be Menna,” she said briskly. “Master Lethar’s latest novelty.”

Kaeloris responded for Menna before she could snap back. “Yes, Madame Registrar. I’ve brought her from the surface as instructed.”

Maryst tapped her fingers against the slate, then flicked a hand. The script shifted to a different page.

“Your credentials are… unconventional,” she said through lips thinned into a disapproving line. “But then again, so was Master Lethar’s request.”

Brows arched, the registrar looked Menna up and down, but the Middleshy held her ground under the scrutiny.

“I assume he wouldn’t have asked me to come here if it wasn’t worth the effort,” she retorted.

Kaeloris stifled a chuckle, but Maryst didn’t so much as blink.

“Perhaps,” the registrar remarked flatly. “However, you will still need to demonstrate a functional grasp of the fundamentals before you are allowed access to any of the research team’s ongoing projects. Since your education was… not within our academic system, a formal matriculation is unnecessary.”

Menna nodded slowly. “And what would that demonstration entail?”

Maryst handed her a fresh tablet of thin slate, its surface already etched with a list of assigned coursework.

“You are not here to be a student, but an observer contingent on Master Lethar’s largesse. You are expected to attend lectures on the extraction, manipulation, and theoretical applications of arclith-based energies,” Maryst said. “You will be given access to the general research archives and provided with an academic liaison, should you need additional guidance.”

“Will I be graded?” Menna asked dryly.

“No,” Maryst said. “You will simply be evaluated. If you do not meet the standards, you will not be permitted continued access to the academy.”

Menna tightened her grip on the slate, pulse quickening.

“Understood,” she said.

Vazko, standing silently behind them, gave the barest nod of approval.

Maryst finally turned to Kaeloris. “You may escort her to her accommodations. I assume you will also be overseeing her progress, Kaeloris?”

Kaeloris concluded the exchange with a formal bow. “It would be my pleasure, Madame Registrar.”

Maryst did not look gratified.

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Menna’s assigned quarters were cut directly from the tunnel walls that made up the academy’s hallways. The Deepshy appeared keen to combine furniture with architecture, as the room’s bedframe, desk, and shelves all jutted out from the stone like natural formations. A single vein of arclith ran through the ceiling, glowing softly and providing both illumination and warmth, although not quite as much as she was used to back home up in Rootshadow. She ran her fingers along the edge of the desk, feeling the cool, smooth dustless surface.

She set her bag down and tried to collect her thoughts. With the stress and excitement of the trip behind her, she now had the breathing room to wonder about her new role and place. What had she actually gotten herself into? What exactly was she supposed to do here? She wasn’t really a student nor a researcher. She was someone in-between again. But that suited her just fine. She had always found ways to fit in.

She glanced down at the course slate, scanning the subjects for her first few days at Umbryss:

- Fundamentals of Arclith Extraction and Refining

- Arcane Energy Flow Mechanics

- Basic Shard Resonance Theory

- Historical Arcane Applications

She exhaled, breathing down on her chilled fingers. It was going to be a long week.

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Kaeloris had left her to settle in right after registration, obviously eager to return to his regular duties and haunts. Menna was about to venture out on her own, but when she cracked open her door to peek into the hallway, she was surprised to see Vazko leaning against the wall facing her, arms crossed.

“Oh, I’m still under your guard?” she asked with a touch of annoyance. “I assume I’m allowed to leave the academy and see the sights? Or that isn’t possible for a Middleshy without an escort? Is there a curfew?”

“Like all Deepshy citizens, you have the right to move around the city as you please,” the Deepguard clarified. “I only wanted to make sure that you properly get your bearings before embarking on any further exploration.”

“Good to know,” she nodded with relief, some of her energy coming back despite the draining day. “You sound like you’ll make for an excellent tour guide, you know that?”

Vazko blinked at her, unruffled. “I’ll try my best. But I would wish you try not to get in the way of the “tour”, as you refer to it, that I have planned out. I have sought to ensure that our itinerary would both be the least strenuous and most safe out of all possible routes that would fit within your limited time this evening.”

Taken aback, Menna lifted her hands and flashed her palms in surrender. “Lead the way then, Commander!”

He said nothing in reply, simply walking ahead down the hallway, gesturing for her to follow.

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Growing up among tree roots, navigating shallow tunnels and burrows spreading out chaotically as the Middleshy settlements expanded, Menna had never quite imagined just how different the Deepshy were. Obsidara breathed and buzzed in ways she hadn’t expected.

She stood with Vazko at the academy’s outer bridge, where a walkway arched over one of the city’s many thermal vents, releasing plumes of hot, mineral-rich steam into the air.

“I have some time before I need to report back,” he muttered as they walked, adjusting the strap of his scabbard. “I would be remiss if you managed to get yourself lost within the first few hours of your arrival in the city.”

Menna gave a curt bow as she rolled her eyes, “I appreciate your continued vigilance, and shall maintain my high opinion of the Deepguard’s service.”

Her response gave Vazko pause, and he ended up falling back a few steps behind her as they proceeded across the walkway.

The city’s arteries hummed not with the harried bustle of the Middleshy, nor the strenuous wanderings of the Sunshy, but an altogether different pattern. The Deepshy flowed across their city in three dimensions. The entire transport network moved in a mesmerizing dance set to the steady pulse of arclith. Platforms of varying widths and lengths either lifted or rolled along people and goods, horizontally, vertically, or laterally, their comings-and-goings choreographed like partners at a ball. Menna had never seen a system so dependent on magic and motors.

She was still staring when Vazko caught up to her to whisper, “You’re holding up the traffic flow.”

She hurried along to slip back into the standard walking pace. “Fine, I’ll stop gawking. You know what they say about taking a Surface-Shy down to the Deep…”

“Hm?” the commander cocked an eyebrow.

Menna didn’t really have a punchline for that, so she just pretended to be swept along with the stream of pedestrians and parcels. The streets gleamed with polished obsidian and shimmering veins of arclith. Shopkeepers waved their hands to adjust the signage and shelves floating around their stalls.

Strolling through the plazas and genteel neighborhoods overlooking the city center, Menna realized something more unsettling to her.

She stood out. It wasn’t just the way she looked, but how she moved and what she wore. Every Deepshy she passed flaunted woven arclith fibers, their garments humming softly with an unmistakable aura. Their belts, gloves, even their jewelry—everything held a charge.

Menna frowned. “They’re all wearing arclith like it’s nothing.”

Vazko shrugged. “It is nothing. In this part of the city, anyway.”

Caught up in the whirl of lights and movement, it seemed all so spellbindingly beautiful in its magical perfection. But the further they walked, passing through the central market areas, skirting the industrial zones along the periphery, the more Menna started to notice the cracks in the glittering facade.

A well-dressed group passed them by, their coats shimmering with fine arclith-imbued embroidery. They barely spared a glance at the cluster of workers coming from the opposite direction. These Deepshy looked tired and downtrodden. They wore patched tunics, with uniform badges laced with a single arclith thread hanging from lanyards around their necks. Their faces were streaked with dust, their shoes worn through.

Then there were the beggars, lingering at the edges of the market, their hands outstretched, their clothes frayed and unlit—no arclith in sight on their person, marking them as those who couldn't afford even a single shard. There weren’t many, but what bothered Menna the most was how the other Deepshy could ignore them as if they weren’t even there.

A gaunt woman, her rags frayed and dull, approached Menna with a trembling hand. 'Kindness, for a soul lost in the depths,' she rasped.

Menna, startled by the woman's desperate plea, fumbled in her satchel for a spare shard, baffled by the stark contrast between the woman's destitution and the opulence of the earlier shops.

Menna turned to Vazko, lowering her voice.

"I thought everyone in Obisdara was supposed to live in comfort and prosperity."

Vazko’s expression remained unreadable. "Many do."

Menna frowned. "But not most."

Vazko gave the barest nod. "Welcome to the Deep."

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They reached a platform overlooking one of the mining offloading stations, where a variety of reptilian mounts were being equipped with harnesses fitted with arclith beacons.

Menna leaned forward, fascinated. “You ride those?”

“Those are mining mounts, mole lizards,” Vazko pointed out matter-of-factly. “The geckonids and monitor lizards that we Deepguard favor are a different species. But yes, mounted couriers, miners, and transporters all use them.”

She watched as one rider adjusted a glowing strip along the lizard’s spine.

“What’s that?”

“Their vision operates differently from ours,” Vazko explained. “They can sense arclith. The strips help guide and control them.”

“So… they’d also be able to see if someone was sneaking out a stash of shards?” Menna suggested.

Vazko gave her a long look. “Technically.”

Menna filed that bit of information away among the many new facts and observations piling up in her brain. She swallowed hard. She needed to catch up. Fast.

Seeing Menna grow pensive, Vazko turned on his heel. “Come on. You’ll need a few things to get yourself ready for life at the academy.”

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Vazko led her towards the bustling trade quarter next to the mining hub. They passed a stall of traders selling crafting tools, parts and materials. Their voices and spiels benefited from a bit of arclith-enhanced amplification as they pitched their wares.

"Guaranteed resonance-stable arclith! Lasts twice as long with half the charge!"

"Shard nibs perfect for custom rune engraving, inscription, and detailing!"

Overtaking Menna and Vazko, a group of lizard-mounted miners waddled down the path they had just taken, steam rising from their thick, glistening scales.

Menna watched in fascination as one of the riders, a wiry-framed woman with big loops in her earlobes and a nose ring, pulled off her protective goggles and visor. She shook out a mess of auburn hair and dismounted with a practiced grace, her keen eyes noticing that Menna had been staring at her.

“Never seen a fire-runner before, surface girl?” she asked pointedly.

Menna hesitated, unsure how to respond to the woman's directness. “No. I don’t even know what a fire-runner is,” she admitted, her curiosity piqued by the woman's soot-streaked hands and purple lizard.

The woman smirked. “Most Middleshy wouldn’t.” She wiped her hands on her mole-leather coat and extended one. “Samy. Miner, part-time salvage crafter. You?”

Menna took the handshake. “Menna. Research apprentice.”

Samy let out a short laugh. “Sounds more comfortable than riding lizardback along magma channels. Unless they’re really making you lot earn your keep?”

“Not yet, Just got here,” Menna replied.

Samy glanced at Vazko, her expression turning more guarded. “And you’ve got your own escort no less. Fancy!”

“You are addressing Commander Vazko, Sentinel of the Deepguard,” he said flatly.

Samy snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Well, ain’t that somethin’? Getting to know you just made my day, your Commandership.”

Menna tried deflecting the tension by walking up to the lizard, putting herself between Vazko and the fire-runner. “Samy, does your mount have a name? How long have you been bonded to it?”

Samy waved a hand toward her lizard mount, which let out a slow, snuffling hiss, flicking its tongue in the humid air.

“Snuffly here’s been with me since back when I couldn’t stick a pin through my lobes,” she patted its head as it nuzzled up to her hand. “He can smell arclith well before we even hit the veins. They see in spectrums we don’t, y’know. Can feel it when molten rock’s about to gush out, spew liquid fire across our paths. Real lifesavers down in the tunnels. Without ‘em, half of us wouldn’t make it back.”

Menna eyed the lizard with newfound appreciation.

“Do you live here in Obsidara?” she asked.

Samy chuckled. “Obsidara? Please! Too hoity-toity for my blood. My crew mines around the whole Deep. You don’t really have a choice if you want to keep bringing in the shards. And we don’t all get to live in a city with slippery streets and floating lamps.”

The fire-runner jerked her head back toward the mining tunnel she’d emerged from. “You ever hear of Blackfall? Ashenlow? Vein’s Edge?”

Menna shook her head.

“Didn’t think so.” Samy spat to the side. “Those places don’t glow like this one. They burn.”

Menna wanted to ask more, but before she could, Vazko gently rested his hand on her shoulder.

“Miss Menna, I believe we need to expedite the purchase of your supplies before the shops close.”

Samy waved her off with a wink. “Good luck with that, surface girl. Hope you stick around.”

Menna frowned. “I didn’t need luck to—”

But Samy was already leading Snuffly away.

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Shopping done, Vazko had one last stop for Menna in his optimized itinerary. He led her back to the heart of the city, where the Great Library of Umbryss loomed.

The library was carved into a stalactite that dangled down from the cavern’s ceiling. There was a crystalline bridge leading to the tip, or one could ride a floating platform if you weren’t being frugal with your arclith charges. The sharpest point of the elongated, inverted cone had been ground away into a receiving area, funneling visitors into the structure. The entrance was marked by archways of fused glass and obsidian, the doors inscribed with ancient Shy script.

The interior of the stone pillar was naturally hollow from geologic processes, this allowed steps and shelves to be chiseled in an expanding spiral going all the way up to its widest point, where it then merged into the city’s central dome. Clear crystals and radiant shards speckled the outer wall of the cone, providing both lighting inside and views to the outside from within.

The sheer vastness of gathered information stunned Menna. Rows of books, scrolls and slates curled upwards, higher than she could see. Volumes and archives moved along levitation tracks that corkscrewed around the open central cylinder, their placement dictated by indexing runes.

The air inside the library was heavy with the mingling scents of parchment, leather, and graphite. Menna almost couldn’t breathe. To her, this was more than just a library. It was the concentrated history and knowledge of the Shy, of arclith, of everything she had spent her life piecing together in fragments.

She reached a hand towards the nearest shelf, brushing her fingers over the engraved book spines.

Vazko, standing beside her, watched her reaction carefully.

“Still doubting if you want to stay?” Vazko asked quietly.

Menna shook her head, looking straight into his icy blue gaze.

“No,” she asserted. “Not anymore.”

Vazko studied her for a moment, then gave a small, approving nod.

“Good.”

She felt certain now. No matter what came next—no matter how much she had to catch up, or how much she missed home. She was meant to be here, and she would prove it to them all.