The all familiar smell gets me to open my eyes. The first thing I get to see is a cold bare rock as usual. Kilometers of it in every direction, must be. Black, all-encompassing as I've always known it. An all too real of a reminder of the painful history, mistakes made by my ancestors millenia ago.

 Looking around my room, the only source of light is a vibrant purple glow of moss coming from the light poles outside. Simple creations, just thin rock pillars risen from the ground using earth magic, on top of which a round glass cage, full of moss to the point of it pushing on the translucent walls of its containment. Lightly enchanted to intensify its glow, as well as to keep the glass from breaking under pressure. Explosions still happen from time to time, the shattering sound being quite a scare.

The moss turns living matter into light mana, emanating its colored glow outwards.

To keep it all running they get fed with a mixture of blood and meat scraps every day, because of which, their surroundings get quite smelly.

There's two of those almost right outside my dwelling. Never got used to the stench, never will. At least it wakes me up at the right time whenever they come to feed it. Punctual as always.

I wish such details didn't float in my mind right after waking up, but I must know these things. Quite likely my future will involve lots of it. Making and maintaining these utilities is one of the most important jobs out here. Otherwise we would all evolve blind long time ago. It's a profitable and comfortable profession. Only if you have a good control of mana that is, otherwise one wrong step during the enchantment process and it can all explode right in your face.

My muscles feel sore from sleeping on the hard ground. I decide it's time to roll out from under my warm carapace, the only good thing about my resting spot. Sleeping on the pile of pelts of one critter or another is as uncomfortable as it sounds, but at least the carapace keeps me warm during the sleep. It's just a remnant of a Cave Beetle from a decade ago, but it's surprisingly efficient at trapping warmth underneath. Definitely better than the thin hides of the fauna found around here, those are only good for the basic clothing. We are way too far away from the big caverns, to have access to plants and cozy furs to make high-quality, soft fabrics. Not that it would be an option either way, any closer to one and we would all be food of some fat monstrosity.

Basic stretches, and it's time to get ready to leave. Long ago the Elders dug out a network of connections for water to pass through. Can't say the geezers are still as useful nowadays.

Thanks to it, every living cavern has access to fresh water. No idea what source it's all connected to, as they say - not my problem, just be happy it's here, even if I'm curious to know.

After washing myself and a quick beetle stew breakfast it's time to head towards the main square.

There's little to no excitement in me for today's graduation. Fifty years of studying, and for what, nothing to show for it. Our little society lacks the properly educated Mages to teach us anything useful. The Elders themselves won't do it, no use for it they say. We're all gonna end up on a hunting or gathering duty anyway. They even stopped sending delvers out deeper into the passages ages ago, deeming it too dangerous with the more valuable caverns being so far away. Time of exploring and glory upon coming back with the riches of the cave is long gone.

Before leaving I play with the light seeping inside, to calm my nerves before joining the others. Using a loose magic crystal as a prism I watch the dark magenta shadows dance on my walls. Shadow magic comes easy to me, teachers speculate it might be my main speciality. Hard to say for sure given we lack proper measuring devices unfortunately. Manipulating the shapes with mana I try to create a silhouette of my friend and a flying rock hitting him in the head. What a sweet revenge. Can't wait to recreate it later today in the flesh.

Outside except for a festive mood, everything is as normal. Cavities in the stone walls spanning forever in every direction. Marking the entrances of peoples homes. This high up on the wall most of them are bare, open to the world. Only the clashing of the moss lights outside, with the dark inside keeps anyone from peeking.

Standing out in my surroundings are the few dwellings of mages who for whatever reason still live in the elevated part of the city, away from the passages leading where the mana density is higher, and access to core hunting is easier. These homes, while still simple caverns, sport doors of stone and raw minerals. Rich with lavish details of historic events, or representations of beasts and monstrosities. Runes, symbols, and many other personalized decorations as well as security enchantments. Even small sculptures set as if to welcome guests, not the animated ones, those are difficult to produce so they are a sight only closer to the mage district down below. On the lower levels, the more pompous of the mages adorn their houses with depictions of their family achievements. At least the claims of which they so desperately defend. Their forefathers slaying beasts, casting massive spells, bare-handedly wrestling serpents and Gods.

I wager a lot of these are constructs of their creators imagination, as much as they say otherwise. After all, nothing much has been happening for the past centuries or so. No one would dare confront any of them about it though, unless they fancy living the next few decades as a living statue.

Going down, towards the center of the city the most prominent aspect is the fountain in the middle of the plaza at the lowest point of our Cavern. The craftsmanship of the artwork is of the finest grade, utmost care and engineering can be easily felt even by a dull eye. Multiple water jets blasting out all around the main piece alternating in sync. The statue itself is depicting a 10 meters tall Dark Elvish woman, with a expensive wooden staff in her left hand. Wood is almost impossible to come by these parts, so scarce that the staff is the only wooden object in the whole Cavern. The color of the stone of the statue is the perfect imitation of the shade of our people's grayish skin. Her simple dress made out of marble so thin that if not for the lack of wind down here I'm certain it would be moving in rhythm with even the slightest breeze. In her eyes a determined gaze unlike any other I've ever seen in my short life, yet a hint of pain visible upon further inspection. Beautiful face of gentle features, peaceful, elegant, royal, yet powerful. Only a minuscule pout of her soft lips betraying the inner feelings of the woman. So lifelike as if frozen in time instead of sculpted. If I didn't know any better, I'd expect her to start moving towards me any time. Next to her, two smaller statues, of scared dark elvish children 20 years old at best, being led by hand. Away from danger, away from the persecution. The sight always fills me with anger at how our fate had unraveled. Yet, at the same time it's a testament to our people's resolve to survive, to the never ending wish for revenge. The fever for justice. No matter the cost, no matter the consequence.

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Not the first time I fall thoughtful upon this sight.

Shaking myself out of my dazzlement I notice I'm surrounded with a river of people, flowing around the main square.

You never see these many Elves at once. There must be hundreds here, crowded densely. I immediately become worried about pickpockets, even though my only valuable possession on me is a small mana crystal. Some of my compatriots can be quite sneaky when they need to be. The reason for the uproar of the crowd is easy. Each semester at the Academy takes 10 years, so the graduation is a once in a decade occasion. Pushing people to prepare feasts and celebrations. As is common knowledge, Elven women don't birth children often, compared to other races. Then considering that not everyone gets born with a magical affinity worth developing, the Cavern often goes decades without having a class to graduate at all, for the lack of students. Understandably the event gets the streets and businesses busy like never. Graduation means influx of new apprentices, for all fields. Every entrepreneurial Darkling wants that cheap mage labor under the guise of helping the apprentice gain work experience.

Massive fair with food stalls, magic store discounts, weapon offers, trying to entice the less talented magic alumni to come check out their venture and consider working for them. Everyone stands on their mommy given pointy ears to outdo the other, having a mage in your business can be flourishing for it like nothing else.

I can barely understand anything amongst the screams of vendors and murmurs of the crowd. Anyway, all a useless charade if you ask me, a pitiful attempt at masquerading the gloomy reality of the next few centuries, or a millenia if unlucky. Stuck under the ground hunting small cave critters or playing with the moss, which is it my dear future? Barely anyone gets lucky enough to be picked up as an apprentice to an already established mage. It takes a massive amount of talent, motivation, hard work, and dedication. All of which gets left somewhere behind after 50 years of staring at stone and beetles. If at least they didn't leave their dung everywhere.. Fortunately the moss is bright, so we don't have to live both with beetle dung, and in complete darkness.

"Degnil! Over here!". The shout of my soon-to-have-rock-on-his-head friend Breva snaps me out of my momentary existential crisis. Quickly I remind myself to switch my mood and stay positive. Getting depressed and overwhelmed over simple graduation nervousness is unlike me. I spot him sitting on the bench on the other side of the fountain. Next to him two other colleagues from the academy, and our teacher Vetta.

"Are you nervous for the ceremony? I can't wait to see you paraded on the stage with all the other nerds graduating with honors!" with a hint of sarcasm mocked Breva, still bitter he was just few marks short of getting the same merit.

"Bre-, Greetings teacher Vetta. Breva, it really isn't that big of a deal. I'm no prodigy, there's hundreds of us, and the mages are going to pay attention to the spell showcase. Not the formalities." Catching myself seconds before the disaster, I greet my teacher and answer my friend. The Elvish social etiquette is incredibly uncompromising. I wouldn't want to get scolded in the middle of a busy street over a minor faux pas of not addressing my elder first. Teacher Vetta is strict over these.

"Student Degnil, welcome. You're almost late, that's improper for a soon to be alumni. Have you even given any thought to your next steps? While impressive looking, your light tricks aren't going to land you a scholarship with any mage worthy of naming. I hope you planned accordingly. Or are you still trying to break rocks with your head?"

Embarrassed, my emotions get the better of me

"Miss Vetta! That time it was not my fault at all, it's all because Breva.."

"Enough, Student Degnil. Don't tire me with explanations. Or would you be willing to have another 2 hours long lecture about moss handling safety?"

Every time we come with the distinct dry, purple bruises to the academy, our teacher Vetta lectures us of the dangers of wild moss. The longest and harshest after one of us a few days ago got a bloody wound on his whole back. Getting sucked out of almost his whole mana in the process. All from falling onto a wild patch of moss while playing dodge rock in a passage leading to the hunting grounds. Don't judge us, there isn't much entertainment going on in here. Throwing rocks at each other is some of the best fun we have. Well, as long as you can dodge the rocks.

Anyway, in her own words:

"Fools, it's like you never listen. While the Carne Moss is not particularly dangerous to us Elves, with how suppressed in size we keep the patches here, that does NOT make it safe. Stray away too far from the city and you might find yourself in real trouble. It grows massive when left uncontrolled. Without a real limit as far as there's enough ambient mana and nourishment. It might seem harmless seeing it at the camp every day, but it still is a mana absorbing, blood sucking, flesh corroding abomination. No one has spare resources for healing avoidable wounds, especially not mana starvation. It doesn't surprise me that such a small stretch of moss tried to suck you dry like it would a wandering insect. Getting so many rocks to the head must have left you with a brain resembling one. I can't with you primitives. Looking at you Degnil, talented yet so light-minded. Leave the moss to the harvesters."

She's always caring for us like that, in her own way. More than anyone else that's for sure. Education is the strongest survival technique according to her. She never misses an opportunity to torture us with a lecture. Not too sure if I agree. I'd rather know how to proficiently hunt and skin Cave Beetles without blowing them up, or even gather the moss safely. Much more practical than stocking on tons of useless theoretical knowledge. Can't kill a beetle with a book. Mind you I already tried out of boredom; Their shells are too hard. We aren't getting taught any of it though. Elders say it's too dangerous for us younglings yet to go out deeper into the passages. They don't want us learning the practice just to sneak out and try to get some pocket money alone. Scared that something big might travel up here. Changes to the mana flow in the cave and whatnot. Stupid elders, the centuries in the cave rotted their already simple minded brains, along with their mana sense. There's no way any monster travels here, far away from the caverns filled with lush greenery. Full of animals, monsters and water sources. The only things we have here are the beetles, insects, and moss. Nothing smart or stupid is going to chase after the damn beetle dung this deep down the barren passages.

But never mind, I get too worked up. I don't fancy another round of maintenance duty if I get caught complaining. Again.