The Hinterlands was a naturally tempestuous and untamed land. Towering, craggy peaks and dense patches of evergreens stretched as far as the eye could see. In the midst of this harsh landscape, numerous tribes and wild beasts roamed, constantly shedding blood in their desperate bid for survival. But on this day… all remained calm and quiet. A downy blanket of white had descended during the night to quell the storm of violence. Families gathered around their hearths and the animals curled up in their dens for a brief reprieve. 

However, to those who naturally made their home deep beneath the earth, life continued on as it always did. In particular, a group of hulking men, both young and old, toiled away in the mines of Mount Stormpeak with an astonishing intensity.

‘Up… down… Up… down…’ Atell repeated this simple mantra internally as his pickaxe rose and fell in harmony. Keeping his mind focused on a steady rhythm was all he could do to distract himself from the searing pain in his shoulders that accompanied every swing. 

Suddenly, a long and sharp whistle pierced through the discordant clash of metal against stone. Many of the nearby men replied to the interruption with confused grumbles, but regardless of their thoughts — all work ceased. 

“Alright, you lot. That’s it for today!” The familiar deep voice of the Overseer echoed through the tunnel.

Atell’s body deflated as his pickaxe sunk into the dirt and fragments of stone; a jumbled mixture of satisfaction and confusion washed over him. He knew it wasn’t yet time for their work to conclude. They’d only just returned from a brief midday break, after all. But the Overseer’s word was the law and Atell certainly wouldn’t complain about an early dismissal. With a shrug, he hefted the pick onto his shoulder and stalked up the dark passage.

Amber lanterns swayed gently overhead as Atell followed behind the broad silhouettes of his fellow tribesman. Warped shadows shifted all around them, and in the dim light — tension crept its way back into Atell’s chest. All manner of outrageous notions started racing through his head. One idea, in particular, filled him with dread. 

‘Another cave in…?’ 

All extraneous thoughts departed as this short phrase immediately filled every corner of Atell’s mind. The pressure continued to build as his breathing grew shallow. Soon, his vision blurred and it felt like the narrow tunnel was slowly collapsing inward, threatening to squeeze the remaining oxygen out of his lungs. 

“Atell… You okay?”

A large, frayed glove grasped Atell’s shoulder from behind. He knew right away who the hand belonged to. There was a profound strength hidden in the grip. Atell paused his footsteps, turning to face the hefty man behind him. The layers of grime and sweat were unable to mask his uncle’s gentle countenance. Still, it took a few seconds for Atell to gather his nerve and speak. 

“Uncle Irth… y-you, don’t think it was another cave-in, right?” Atell’s voice quaked.

Irth’s gentle smile tightened for a brief moment. “Of course not. We would have felt a deep rumbling in the earth if something like that happened.”

Relief escaped from Atell’s lungs as he released a pent-up breath. 

“C’mon, we’d best hurry along,” Irth urged with a melancholic smile.

Atell nodded and lifted his leaden feet to trudge forward once more. It didn’t take long for the two of them to catch up with the others and enter into the lengthy inspection queue. All was silent in the wide staging area aside from the occasional shuffling of feet and affirmative grunt from one of the guards at even intervals. 

Blinding sunlight framed the mine’s exit as Atell steadily approached. His heartbeat quickened as the enticing rays crept closer and closer. 

After coming of age and entering into the mines this past year, Atell rarely found an opportunity to greet the sun. To others in his tribe this loss may seem inconsequential — a blessing even, but it was Atell’s biggest regret. Every sunrise he missed seemed to shave away at his soul. In the past, he loved to hike up the back of Mount Stormpeak after his father left for work early in the morning. He would sit on his secret ridge, waving farewell to the twin sisters Nerys and Syren before paying his respects to Helios as he rose through the sky to begin his shift guarding the Divine Realm. 

“Next!” The shaggy spear-wielding guard shouted, breaking Atell from his reverie. The boy sprang into motion...

Irth shook his head as he watched his little nephew toss his pickaxe into the cart and dash eagerly into the harsh daylight. That child had always been an oddity. Much smaller than the tribesmen his age, more inquisitive and adventurous as well. But what really alienated Atell from his peers were his astonishing eyes. Two bright, golden globes that radiated an almost tyrannical vitality.  Growing up, those eyes cowed the other children. None of them ever had the courage or desire to invite Atell to play in the caves. 

‘Not that Atell ever spent much time underground to begin with…’ Shaking his head once again, Irth sighed and stepped outside to find the boy before he ran off. 

“Atell!” Irth called out, shielding his eyes. He saw the strange young fellow out in the distance, posing amidst the smooth blanket of snow that stretches northwards towards the quiet village. A bright smile was plastered on Atell’s face as his arms reached towards the sky, grasping at the sun.

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“Uncle, I feel like spending some time outside today. You can head back without me,” Atell yelled over his shoulder without breaking his stance.

“Alright…” Irth shivered. It wasn’t the cold weather that bothered him. Rather, he felt supremely uncomfortable standing so exposed out in the field. “Just hurry back before supper!” 

After passing along that reminder, Irth ambled back toward the cover of the trees lining the mountainside and joined the procession of tribesmen heading towards the caves. 

***

‘It’s been too long…’ Atell sighed.

A strange feeling had surged in Atell’s gut as soon as he’d stepped outside. As if a desperate yearning that had been repressed suddenly resurfaced. He felt like a starving beast salivating over a fresh meal. The accumulated fatigue from many long days of work swelled like a wave and crashed through Atell’s mental barrier, carrying with it his pain and frustration. With an empty mind, Atell reveled in Helios’ warmth — content to simply stand alone in his embrace for eternity. 

The boy’s body appeared frozen in time as the wind swirled around him, picking up loose snow. This solitary statue paid no mind to the freezing gales. It remained firmly rooted to the ground, appearing eternal and unshakeable. Neither calamity nor fortune could disturb Atell at this moment. He had lapsed into an almost ethereal frame of mind.

The significance of this extraordinary state was completely lost on this simple child. Nevertheless, as the sunlight brushed across his exposed skin — Atell was wholly content. Warm strands of energy saturated his body. These fine threads swam happily through his limbs before converging around his heart. Following their gathering, a comfortable heat swelled in Atell’s chest like he had just finished a warm bowl of stew. This sensation slowly grew more pronounced, reaching a climax after tens of minutes. In accordance with the energy’s desire to be unleashed, Atell exhaled as if he were a mighty dragon spewing fire. 

The gathered heat exploded through his extremities. If one were to observe this moment from afar, they would see a grey-skinned youth emitting a dazzling golden light as if the radiant sun had descended onto the mortal plane. But just as quickly as this phenomenon appeared, it blinked out of existence. After completing this sequence, the tranquil haze in the boy’s mind dispersed; however, he was unwilling to let this sensation depart. Atell inhaled sharply, hoping to capture this foreign energy once more. 

Unfortunately, he felt eyes gathering on him from a distance, disturbing his concentration. A mass of dark figures was gathering near the village’s exit. The troupe grew more distinct as it rapidly approached his location. Massive beasts shook the earth as they stampeded forward. Soon, the foremost grey Direwolves and their golden-haired riders blew past Atell without sparing him a second glance. He was knocked to the ground unceremoniously by the gust of wind left in their wake. 

Despite their apparent haste, not all of the riders continued onward. A few of the smaller Direwolves struggling at the rear of the pack slowed to a halt, encircling Atell. 

“Well, well… What’s a little slug like you doing out here all by yourself?” A snide voice remarked as Atell struggled back onto his feet, brushing the snow from his ragged tunic.

Atell clenched his fists with all the strength he could muster, causing thin lines of blood to trickle through the gaps in his fingers. 

“What do you want, Raiden?” Atell asked, softly. He didn’t dare raise his gaze to meet the eyes of the young man towering atop the Direwolf that had cast him in its shade. Atell knew that if he saw Raiden’s smug grin… he was liable to lose his last vestige of self-control. 

“Did you hear, little slug?” Raiden sneered. “I broke through the Foundation Stage and became an Initiate Warlock a few weeks ago.”

Atell nearly bit through his tongue as Raiden’s words lingered between them. 

“I did…” Atell muttered. How could he not have? Raiden had become the youngest Warlock in the Aurelian Clan’s history when he broke through into the first Layer at the tender age of 9. It was all anyone talked about for days on end — even in the caves and fields. 

“What was that?” Raiden inquired as he hopped down from the back of his mount. The older followers around him followed suit. 

“I did,” Atell spoke through gritted teeth. 

“Then did you also hear that not long after I broke through, my Mother was chosen from among the Gilded Priestesses to become the next Matriarch?”

Atell’s body shook. That was news to him.

“Get to the point,” Atell growled, raising his head. 

Raiden flinched back under Atell’s intense glare. The young Warlock still vividly remembered the beating he took at Atell’s hands a year ago. But that was then... and he was an Initiate now. Faint sparks of white lightning crackled around Raiden’s fists as he straightened his back and stepped forward. 

“Want to know what my Mother and I talked about the other day?”

“What? Atell spat.

“You!” Raiden barked out. “As soon as she becomes the Matriarch, the first thing she’ll do is exile you from the Trion Mountains!” Atell trembled as Raiden continued his tirade, “...The current Matriarch was far too soft on your Mother. A mixed-blood like you should have been kicked out along with her, executed even!”

Atell desperately fought back the urge to jump on Raiden and demolish his narrow face. He only held back because the other boy’s lightning gave him an unprecedented feeling of danger… not to mention the salivating Direwolves still encircling them. 

Noticing the other boy’s murderous gaze, Raiden pressed forward. Exile? There was no way the Clan would give a damn about a little slug like Atell toiling away in the mine, and it wasn’t the Matriarch’s decision alone to make anyway. Why would the Clan waste an important laborer? But if he could provoke Atell into attacking first, he and his friends could beat the mixed-blood black and blue without worrying about damaging their prestige. Just as Raiden was opening his mouth to speak, a frustrated shout echoed across the field.

“Raiden! Hurry up! Everyone’s waiting for you outside the mine!”

Raiden’s cold grey eyes swept across Atell one final time before hopping back onto his Direwolf. 

“I’ll let you off the hook today. You crude Troll-Bloods actually accomplished something useful for once.” Raiden took off towards the others, leaving his parting words hanging frozen in the icy air. 

Atell’s eyes remained glued to Raiden and his goons until they slunk out of sight into the mine. Confusion and anger twisted his stomach into a painful knot. He still had words he wanted to say to the boy. Numerous insults jumbled together on his tongue but there was no one around to listen, so he could only swallow them down regretfully. 

Too many strange events had occurred today. For once, sinking down into the dark and quiet of the caves seemed awfully appealing to Atell. With that in mind, he hurried off towards home.