I once, like many others, grew around these glyphs and symbols. Imagining in my mind the multitude of possibilities that were possible if one was able to read it. These hopes did not bloom in groundless illusions.

A house proclaimed to have been able to understand the glyphs of a particular artifact, and thereafter, they single-handedly became the only producer of enchanted armor in our clan.

Not only did they outstrip the quality of production we were accustomed to, they exceeded our expectations and every now and then, produced equipment that only existed in our little minds.

That’s why they were the first to go with the Lord.

“This looks like an orc.”

“Sure does, Ofar.” It seemed like I had been lingering around the glyphs a little too much, for Ofar decided to satisfy his curiosity and see what I was up to.

After a few turns and corners, the leaders of the expedition decided to stop the whole group and ordered everyone to start setting up simple tents and rest for the final stretch toward the surface.

That’s when I decided to distract myself with the symbols all around these places. Once my curiosity for the inexplicable hieroglyph vanished, I decided to look back to the group. Noticing that the highly regarded and aloof watchers were behaving quite weirdly and some others seemed like they were dancing in excitement. I commented, “What are they up to?”

Ofar followed my gaze, and a little grin formed on his face. “Seems like the path is loud and clear.” Ofar broke into a cheerful laughter, “You see that, little boy? We were not doomed. The goddess favors our delight, She ensures our survival.” Ofar continued with his religious peril, too excited for the good news to care about the weird looks He received.

But neither I care for it, a chance of survival in this hopeless place? Hell yeah, I would even dance naked if it was needed.

Hope is a blessing, but too much optimism leads to death. That’s a lesson Father imparted to me, and there were too many moments in this mission of ours, that demonstrated to me that statement to its fullness.

All too common for a light to be seen at the end of the tunnel, only for it to be an illusion created by a monster. That’s how we lost some of our members. When blinded by a beautiful illusion, you won’t see the claws closing into your neck.

“Don’t get too excited, Ofar. We don’t know of the obstacles that we must pass through.” I warned him, but I knew that my warnings went through one ear, and passed through the other.

Ignoring Ofar’s continued rambles, I decided to pay attention to the Watcher’s movements and weird expressions.

Watchers were, as put in their own words, ‘glancers of the true path’. People too ingrained in their imaginations, Watchers were restless and arduously devoted to their commitment to faith and religion. Proclaiming themselves as the eyes of the only true and benevolent goddess, who is seated at the highest throne in the heavens.

But they would not be Watchers if they only had religion in their toolset. They possessed an artifact in the shape of a glass ball that was filled up with symbols of the Ancient’s language, artifacts that allowed the user to see more than what could be seen by the naked eye.

As to how that helps the expeditions, that was a guarded knowledge the likes of us could not be shared with.

Soon enough, the news spread out like fire. I could see for myself, the eyes of the people around lighting up like fire.

It was a sight to behold. People started to sing praises to the Goddess, dancing and moving around in joy. It was like no other.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Before they would instead remain quite silent, dealing with their battles inside them. Now, they did not care any less.

The guards let the happiness enroll for a few minutes but quickly calmed down the group. And to the few stubborn ones, using threats such as separation to calm them.

The Watchers finished whatever task they were working on, and their leader, a man called ‘Synaloa’ went up front and stood amongst the people.

Using a simple small rock to appear taller and stand out against the crowd, He declared with a powerful voice:

“Our time has come, the goddess has decided for our journey to end inside the warm walls of the clan. Your efforts are to be rewarded once we are up on the surface and surrounded by the familiar iron of our forever-standing walls.”

Synaloa remained telling stories of encouragement, giving motivational talks to the people who were still crouching in fear. People whose hearts did not hold any more light, only hopeless darkness.

Everyone was already at their limits, pushing through with only fear and what little willpower they could muster. But these fervor religious servants of the goddess could bring hope and light in the darkest places.

The remaining Watchers managed to convince the crowd to act, to give their all in a last-ditch effort. Supplies were quickly gathered, weapons drawn, and maps started to be detailed. After a while, a path was quickly determined.

A few volunteers, together with guards next to them, choose to commit and scout the path ahead, to confirm the predictions made by the Watchers. Others were not as brave but instead made their usefulness known by making tents and providing their help in other areas.

I was quite surprised actually, the same people who were belittling us just moments ago were acting totally different from what I could expect. My confusion was very evident to Ofar it seems.

“Don’t be totally surprised about it Roney. They have numerous artifacts in their bodies, and one of those can alter the mood of the people around them. Look at their hands”

Upon closer inspection, I noticed how the rings and jewelry in their hands sometimes emitted light amid their grand speeches to volunteer for the effort.

Ofar convinced me to remain closer to the front, to avoid falling behind again and being surrounded by the whispers of the darkness.

There was gonna be a final push. It was not announced officially, but I could smell it in the air. Surely, the officers in charge would make a run to the clan, and whoever was left behind would deal with it on their own, it was another reason why it was better to stick to the front. I would not like to hear my name again, not when I know that the voice is emerging inside my head.

After a short break, we resumed our journey. Now, with a final and realistic destination in mind.

Every time we had to depart from a resting place, everybody packed up their belongings as fast as they could, with heaviness and gloom in their faces, counting the days as they passed, if it ever could be deduced how much time had passed. But this time was different, they seemed more alive.

We crawled under a passage formed by a collapsed wall. The volunteer scouts returned, albeit with some of their numbers disappeared.

While the family of the missing were lamenting their misfortune, the remaining scouts were able to share information about the path ahead. Although we were ignorant of the full report, I could see the Officers moving with much more ease, like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

An Officer stood out from their bunch and relayed a part of the information gathered from the report. We were to follow the passage formed inside the wall, take a left where the parts diverged, and sneak inside the leftover remains of a massive structure named, ‘The Archive’. After finding the exit, it was a straight run to the surface.

Just by the discovery of this archive, the expedition was bound to be a success. Something quite rare these days. Not only that, but we also finished our task of scavenging for resources at the gathering place.

Although everything was shaping to be a good outcome, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was not going how it should be. The countless stories told by friends of my father re-emerged in my head. They were all full of horror and misery, not of finding treasure and comfort.

But what could I do with only superstition? The expedition kept walking at a constant pace, some people were too excited and tried to run a couple of times, thinking that the faster they could reach the surface, the better.

The guards and officers in place clearly stopped them, it was obviously a suicidal method bound to end in all of us dead. Just looking at the mysterious disappearance of some of the scouts, it was clear that the passage was not without its dangers, no matter what some Watchers were claiming.

The group reached the divergence, took a turn to the left, and continued in the direction of the Archive. While walking and measuring my steps, I noticed a slightly off-putting fact, the glyphs were changing color, from the standard gold tint to one of slight lime.

It must have been my imagination, I thought. Surely, the glyphs that the Ancients left, that stored their wisdom would never be able to be distorted. But I looked again and again, and the statement remained true.

The closer we were to the location of the Archives, the more the tint was evident. As to what the glyphs really meant, that was out of the question. But, a change in a rule that was believed to never break? It should have been impossible.

“Ofar, look at the walls, don’t you notice something weird?” I turned and asked my faithful friend.

“What you on about boy? I only see stone, rocks, and weird drawings.” Ofar responded with a blank face. Not noticing the weird changes occurring in our surroundings.

“The glyphs, the symbols, look at them. Don’t you see the color?” I emphasized that it was evident that something was amiss, but I refused to believe that it was only a result of my imagination. Surely, my mental state would not have decayed by that much, right?

“They are the same, as always boy. Drawings that are imperceptible. Things which our mortal minds could never comprehend.” Ofar responded. Again, I could see a blank stare from my old friend. It looked more and more like the tint was a product of my decaying brain. But it could not be that, right? If it really was an illusion created by exhaustion, it shouldn’t feel as real as it is right now.

I did not know what to respond with, as no matter what I said, it seemed like Ofar could not actually see what was making me so anxious as of right now.

The thought of my friend being the one who’s suffering from a decline surfed through my mind. But after a few inquiries with others around us, it was clear that the symbols remained as unchangeable as ever.

So then, where did the tint come from? I could not get that question out of my head. The more we ventured, the deeper we went, and the stronger the tint became.

Right at the edge of the entrance to the chambers where the Archives stood, the usual gold color of the glyphs was gone. Instead, a full vibrant green color replaced it.

And now, I could see what was actually causing it.