Fire.

All-consuming.

Indiscriminate.

No…

It burns man and monster alike.

You remember the fire.

A distant half-memory, yet as real as today.

Not again…

You remember your skin crackling.

Your fingers, shrivelled and charred.

Grasping at the spear driven through your heart.

Not…

Blood.

Your blood.

Your mother’s blood.

“Marina.”

No…

Your father’s blood.

Your sisters’ blood.

“Marina…”

No…!

“Marina!”

I jolt upright, one wing awkwardly flopping over the side of the bed, the other hitting the wall hard. Mia is sitting on the far end of my bed, looking across at me.

“Nightmares again?” She asks, gently.

“The fire and the… Chief…?”

I blink a couple times, my eyes still bleary from sleep.

The Chief looks… different. Her hair is down.

And she’s wearing probably what is the most delicate outfit in all of Haven; a black, silk and lace gown coming halfway down her thighs, every hem woven with intricate floral patterns from red lace. Compared to her usual outfit, this does nothing to hide… no, it accentuates her curvy, heavenly…

“Marina.” She says, snapping me back to attention. If I’m still dreaming, this is nicer than the last one.

“Y… Yes, sorry…”

The Chief sighs quietly, resting her hand on the bed.

“This happens nearly every night, you know. Sometimes you wake, sometimes you don’t. Your wings thrash against the walls.”

“It’s the left wing that does that…”

“Still. It puts up quite a racket.”

“Sorry, just, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about them…”

“Dreams of your past life? And how it ended?”

“... Yes.”

“They often happen, especially to those that have recently arrived.” She stands up, brushing her long, black hair from her eyes. “Come, let’s talk.”

“Are we not talking here?”

“I left Tiff up in my room, come on.”

I get up, following the Chief from my room, up the stairs to the first floor, then up the stairs to the part of her house I haven’t been in before. The second floor.

The first room of the second floor opens up as a private study. The chimney opens up to a smaller fireplace than that on the first floor; big enough to warm the small room, but not to illuminate it. The illumination is handled by a cast-iron lamp containing a glowing white orb - a daylight lamp, just like the one in Tiff’s house. The lamp hangs above a large, heavy wooden desk, covered with loose papers and books just like all the other tables in this building.

“How many daylight lamps are in Haven?”

“Three. The third one is in my room. All made by yours truly.” The Chief answers, smiling proudly.

The Chief walks through the room to the door on the other side, opening it and stepping into her bedroom. I follow along, to find… Tiff, wearing a red linen nightgown and seemingly passed out on the Chief’s queen-sized bed, awkwardly splayed out across it.

The Chief just sighs, walking around the bed and sitting on the far side, patting in front of her for me to join her, which I oblige.

So.

The Chief’s bedroom. The room of the most important and powerful person in Haven.

For starters, she has an actual soft, queen sized bed with an actual mattress, with bedposts and a canopy, from which dark red curtains hang. The chimney also opens up to a small fireplace in her bedroom as it does in the study, and between it and the door is a dresser, kept surprisingly neat and organised considering the state of all the tables in her home. On top of it sits an actual glass mirror, the only one I’ve seen in Haven. Yet not only does her room have a mirror, above it hangs a mechanical clock up on the wall, keeping the time to the hour, minute, and second. That explains how the Chief can keep track of time, then. It also says it’s just before midnight.

“That’s one of four clocks in Haven. They’ve been running since they were first brought down here.” The Chief answers the question on my mind.

“Where’s the other three?”

“There’s one in the dorm house, one in the office above the Tavern, and one in the kitchen visible from the Tavern.” She says. Huh, I didn’t notice one in the kitchen.

A large circular window takes up most of the wall that’s opposite from her bed, giving her a view down to the pools by the waterfall. The only other furniture in her room is a small bookshelf, and a simple bedside table, with a well-made, dark brown suitcase on top of it, closed and locked with golden clasps.

“Now, then…” The Chief starts, glancing across at Tiff, who’s still apparently asleep. “Are you going to join this conversation or not.”

Tiff remains unresponsive for a moment, before pouting, sitting back up.

“You’re no fun…” She huffs.

“How long was I asleep…?”

“You came back to your room and fell asleep at about nine o’clock. You’ve been thrashing about in your sleep on and off for the past hour…” The Chief says, looking at me. “Is it the same nightmare over and over again?”

“It’s… sometimes, it’s memories of my old life, but usually it’s just… I open my eyes, and there I am again. Laying in that ditch, bleeding out. Staring up at the empty sky, with the smell of fire and death in the air as I slowly slip away.”

Silence hangs in the air for a brief time, before I speak again.

“It’s not how I would have liked to have gone…”

“Few people get to choose the circumstances of their death. I died in a carriage ambush. Robbers who thought our gilded carriage an easy target. I took most of them down with me before I died.” The Chief says, crossing her arms.

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.” She answers.

“Were you alone or with your family?”

“I was travelling with my sister.” She sighs. “She was six years my senior. I don’t know what happened to her, but when I called out, she didn’t answer. It would have been fortunate for my parents if she lived and I died.”

“Mia…” Tiff says quietly, resting her hand on the Chief’s lap.

“They always made it clear to me that I would never be as good as my sister and I should just get married to anyone as quickly as possible so they could get rid of me. It would be utterly hilarious if they lost both their children in the same incident.” The Chief chuckles dryly.

“Grew up in your sister’s shadow, I take it?”

“Hah. Literally. She was the youngest person ever to attain sagehood in the Convent of Twilight at the age of ten. I attained sagehood in the Order of the Golden Light also when I was ten, but I wasn’t the youngest since some child from hundreds of years ago became a sage at age eight. Nevermind that the Order was corrupt then and they made an eight year old a sage for a joke. No. I was just Mia, the second, spare daughter of a prestigious family, always second fiddle to Emilia, the pride of the Lichtrufers…” The Chief takes the cup on her bedside table, sipping from it.

“I was an only child, so I don’t have any sibling stories to share. You said you had three siblings, Marina? What were they like?” Tiff asks.

“Well, there was Bianca, my eldest sister. My big sister. She looked after me and doted on me. She was strong, smart, reliable, pretty… I always looked up to her. Carina, my second eldest sister. She had bright red hair… a bit like Tiff’s hair, and every boy in town pined for her. She was a bit prideful and could come off as abrasive, but she was very kind-hearted and caring, she just… wasn’t always good at showing it. And then, Vincenzo, our little baby brother. He was four years younger than me, and he had a smile that could get him out of anything. Everyone loved him, my dad most of all. Us kids always helped our parents as much as we could.”

“Was it a happy family?” Tiff asks, smiling.

“Well, mostly… if there was a problem child, it was definitely me, aha…”

“You? You’ve been one of the most well-behaved residents of Haven, Marina.” The Chief says, sounding a little surprised that I was the problem child.

“I was… a difficult child. Distant, untrusting and irritable sometimes, over-emotional and clingy other times. Sometimes it felt like my family were all strangers and that I didn’t belong there, like it wasn’t my real home. I’d hide away in my room all day, and be up all night crying from nightmares… I caused a lot of anguish. My parents would fight some nights, as they didn’t know what to do with me. It was only when I started to grow up and mature that I began to grow out of it, and that they no longer felt like strangers and felt more like my family. I wished, on my fifteenth birthday, that my family would be happy, and that I could show them the love they showed me through all the trouble I caused for them. And then…”

“Then you wound up here.” The Chief finishes the sentence for me.

“They probably did, too.”

“Well, I had checked through the books keeping track of everyone who lived in Haven. You’re the first Retali we’ve had, Marina.” She says.

“When did you check?”

“Recently. Now-” She starts,

“She checked the day we interviewed you!” Tiff cuts her off, grinning.

“Tiff!!” The Chief exclaims, crossing her arms in indignation as Tiff rolls over giggling.

“Ahaha… well… If I’m here, that means my father didn’t bury me properly…” Tiff chuckles, wiping a tear from her eye as she sits back up.

“What, uh… how’d you end up here?”

“Oh, my uh… I was deflowered outside of marriage, and my father beat me a bit too hard, and well… here I was, haha…” The colour slowly drains from her face as she talks, her words drifting off into the night as silence hangs for a time.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“You can see why we try not to talk about these things, Marina.” The Chief says, holding Tiff’s hand.

“Ah… I didn’t have to bring mine up. It just kinda came out as you both shared yours…” Tiff shrugs lightly.

“You said once that there were other places where us Damned turn up… Are they close to here? Are they anything like the Abyss?”

“Well if the contents of the book “The Damned's Guide To Their New Lease On Life” are truthful, there are seven places, called Sumps, that the Damned arrive at, and the Red Abyss is considered the worst of them.” The Chief answers.

“Just my luck to get the worst one…”

“Apparently, the Damned from different Sumps have different changes to their bodies. They call them “Afflictions''. Our afflictions are our white pupils, pointed ears, and red eyes or red hair. Some, from other sumps, have skin as black as coal and eyes that burn like embers, while others have catlike features, or even turn completely into a talking cat!” Tiff says.

“Damned from Mount Forge and the Ruins of Vaythrarr, respectively. Mount Forge is the largest volcano in the Underlands, and the Ruins of Vaythrarr are the ruins of the capital of a once great empire, now inhabited by the ghosts of its people.” The Chief chimes in.

“There’s one up really far north called Snowbleak. Damned from Snowbleak have snow-white hair, and big, soft, fluffy, super cuddly tails!” Tiff says, excitedly.

“You’d give anything to touch one of those big, soft, fluffy, super cuddly tails, wouldn’t you…” The Chief says, sighing, but smiling.

“Who wouldn’t?” Tiff grins.

“So, the Red Abyss, Mount Forge, the Ruins of Vaythrarr, Snowbleak… What are the other three places?”

“The Golden Dunes. A giant desert to the south where the grains of sand are gold. Damned there have large, dragon-like tails. The Woodland Grave, a forest shrouded in permanent fog, where its Damned have antlers. And then, the Gateway. It doesn’t do anything to you, and you end up right next to the biggest city in the Underlands.” The Chief continues her answer.

“Sure sounds like people who are sent to the Gateway have it easy…”

“The Damned's Guide To Their New Lease On Life does mention that those who arrive via the Gateway are looked down upon by other Damned for having a comparatively easy start.” The Chief says. “Although even if I was reborn in a palace, I’d still have to grapple with the fact that I died and my body was either desecrated or left unburied.”

“How are you feeling now, Marina?” Tiff asks, smiling gently.

“Educated on the living conditions of my fellow Damned.”

“You have the strangest… Well, you look a little brighter.” The Chief sighs lightly. “The nightmares should grow less frequent over time. I can’t promise that they’ll ever completely go away, though.”

“I do have one question, Tiff…”

“Yes?” Tiff says.

“What do I have to do to get a nightgown as luxurious as the Chief’s?”

“As luxurious as…” The Chief blushes slightly, looking down at her extravagant, luxurious, silken nightgown. I have to swat my left wing as it tries to reach out and touch the Chief’s nightgown for itself.

“I wish I had the talent to make something as delicate and beautiful as that, but I’m not quite there yet. It came along with Mia.” Tiff says, grinning at the Chief’s embarrassment.

“... You were wearing that in the carriage?”

“N-No!!” The Chief blurts out, before taking a breath to calm herself. “It was in the suitcase by my bedside. I died on top of it, and it came with me.”

“But… weren’t you eleven? How do the clothes still fit?”

“They are, or they were, my sister’s. It was her suitcase. I grew into them.” She says, glancing down at her nightgown again.

“It certainly suits you.”

“It really does, doesn’t it~?” Tiff agrees. “If you’d like, Marina, I can make you something like mine, so you don’t have to sleep in your nice new clothes all the time.”

“I would appreciate that a lot, Tiff.”

“Clothing aside, I still have one question, Marina.” The Chief’s more serious tone gives me a hint on what this is likely about.

I glance out the window, up at the towering cliffs that disappear into the fog.

“Six hundred tals is a long way up. And a long way down. I’d need lots of practice and exercise to be able to make it.”

“... So Rann did tell you.” The Chief looks down at her hands in her lap.

“He told me about the crane. It was easy to figure out the rest. We’re stuck in a giant hole in the ground, and I have wings.”

“Well, then. No need to hide my ambition. I want to get everyone out of the Abyss. Not just everyone in Haven, everyone in the Abyss. The Keepsguard, the Breakers, all the minor groups just trying to survive. Everyone. It may sound crazy, but this place, the Abyss itself… It’s alive, or at the very least, it isn’t dead.” She says.

“That doesn’t sound that far fetched, given how this place feels like it was designed to be as tough and miserable as possible.”

“A book I read on the Sumps covers several leading theories on the nature of the Sumps and why we Damned arrive here. If the theory that six of the seven Sumps are indeed the remains of the six fallen Gods, then we are sitting on the grave of Arnar.”

“The God of War?”

“The very same. Are you familiar with his teachings?”

“The weak fear adversity, the strong revel in it. The flames of war forge the strongest steel, and the greatest of warriors can accomplish anything with nothing but their own strength. Conflict is the true natural order and to resist it is foolishness…”

“Even if he didn’t shape this place, he’d certainly approve of it… To think, I was born under his moon, and this is how he treats his favoured?” Tiff chuckles a little.

“The Abyss is an environment that drives conflict and adversity via its sparse resources and vicious wildlife. Outside of Haven, there’s no clean water, the air is thick with smoke and fog, few plants are edible, and even the least dangerous animal is more than capable of killing you. This is an arena built on struggle and pain. Besides the few that escaped when Haven was built, only a handful of people have made it out of the Abyss by their own means. Every single one of them went on to establish great deeds; legendary hunters, peerless warriors, a few even attained Daemonhood. Not that they’re any help to us now.” The Chief crosses her arms, sighing.

“People like us… became Daemons?”

“Yes, although the only one mentioned is one that became the Daemon of Destruction. That is, until they lost a fight, were destroyed, and the victor became the new Daemon of Destruction.”

“So someone beat a Daemon, and they became that Daemon? Are all Daemons, uh, inherited like that?”

“From what I’ve read, it’s best to think about Daemons in the literal sense. If you ‘destroy’ the Daemon of Destruction, you have proven yourself the greater destroyer, and you become the new Daemon of Destruction. Supposedly, there are thirteen High Daemons, who hold power and wealth above all the rest. In a way, they’re the de facto gods of this world.”

“There really is an entire world outside the Abyss…?”

“Yes. And I’ll be damned if I spend the rest of my life stuck in this hellhole without ever getting a chance of seeing the world beyond it myself.”

“But Mia, aren’t we already Damned?” Tiff asks, with a sincere tone but an absolutely shit-eating grin. The Chief just ignores her.

“Back on the topic of the Abyss… I have a theory, myself. Given you’ve been outside Haven, you know how hard it is out there compared to how it is here. We’ve made a place as comfortable as we can. Supposedly the Keepsguard are quite comfy in their castle, wherever it is. We have some semblance of stability and normality here. And whatever is left of Arnar’s will doesn’t like that.” She says, frowning. “Which is why, for the past twenty years, the new arrivals in the Abyss have all been children.”

“All three of us were lucky. We were all found by Rann’s expedition team when we were young, and brought here. I… try not to think how many children are lost out in the Abyss, right now.” Tiff says, clenching her hands.

“Basically, everyone younger than Vann came to the Abyss at age fifteen or younger. It’s what necessitated the schoolhouse, and it’s why a third of Haven’s people are children.” The Chief sighs softly.

“Wait, are none of the children the actual biological children of anyone here? None of them were born here?”

“They’re all children we found and rescued out in the Abyss. Although, I’m surprised no one mentioned that fact to you, Marina…” Tiff ponders, looking across at me.

“The fact that all the kids here have been rescued…?”

“The fact that, try as hard as you want, no Damned can procreate with another Damned. Apparently, the Damned can procreate with the native peoples of the Underlands, but it’s only us Damned down here, so that doesn’t really matter.” The Chief shrugs.

“So, theoretically, you could go at it as much as you wanted to without any… risk.”

“Yes, theoretically, you could. Most things still work the same as they did back in the world before.” The Chief shrugs, again, trying to move the topic of conversation along.

“Most things?”

“Well, have you bled since you awoke in the Underlands, Marina?” Tiff asks.

“N-no, actually… does that mean we don’t…”

“We still do, it’s just far more erratic and spaced apart. You can go months without bleeding, and then bleed twice in one week. As far as I know, the males don’t have any new complications at all with their reproductive organs… typical.” The Chief huffs.

“Men don’t bleed from their “reproductive organs”, and if we are sitting on top of Arnar, the saying goes that Arnar cares not from whence the blood flows.” Tiff adds. The Chief just huffs again.

“Do they uh… do the men, or… e-even the women, uh… ever try to… court either of you?”

“Pffff… They’re all far too afraid of the Chief to even think of asking her out~” Tiff giggles.

“I’ve spent one lifetime dealing with boorish suitors and lustful young men. I don’t intend to spend my second life dealing with the same.” The Chief huffs annoyedly.

“Well, let’s see… they’re scared of the Chief, because she’s scary and has magic. They don’t try anything with me, because I’m close to the Chief. Minegumo just gets treated like a kid, and that makes her too angry for most people to deal with. Ingrid is… Ingrid. Arshiya’s just too sweet and pure for anyone to try anything. We do have some unofficially married couples and some other girls around our age, and it's not like no one in town gets up to some hanky panky sometimes. You, Marina… are also scary, so they obviously haven’t worked up the courage to try anything.” Tiff counts off.

“Me? Scary?”

“You have wings with swords, Marina, that have already cut up one person’s face. Must we go through the private life of every adult in the village, Tiff?” The Chief is clearly growing annoyed with this topic, but the tell of her reddening cheeks, slight fidgeting, the occasional twitches of her pointed red ears… red?

“You blush up to your ears, Chief!”

“She does?” Tiff gasps excitedly. “She does!! She goes red from her cheeks up to her ears!”

“What- I do not!!” The Chief cries, covering her ears as her whole face goes red, even down to her neck.

“Oooh, her neck turns red, too…”

“I-it does not! Stop it!” She whines, flopping over onto her side and rolling over so we can’t see her face.

“N’aawww, Mia~! You shouldn’t hide something so cute from us!” Tiff giggles, pouncing on the Chief, pinning her down and pulling her hands away from her face. “C’mon, Marina! Come see how cute she is~!”

The Chief struggles against Tiff’s surprisingly strong grasp which I myself have fallen victim to more than once, kicking her legs helplessly beneath her, rolling her head side to side on the pillow trying to hide her bright red face from us. She is cute, and Tiff’s giggling is so infectious I started giggling too and joined in on the Chief-teasing.

That is, before the Chief decided she had enough, and golden chains yanked Tiff and I back, chaining us to the bedposts, my wings awkwardly hanging by my sides.

“Miiiiaaaaaaaa…” Tiff whines, kicking her legs helplessly just like the Chief was. “Magic’s no fair~”

“Ganging up on me isn’t fair!!” The Chief yelps back, trying to straighten out her hair. “Nor is your ridiculously strong grip…”

“Why am I being detained, too? I’m not the one that had you pinned!”

“You! Didn’t help me when I was being pinned! You joined the aggressor!” She huffs, fixing her gown and pulling up a loose strap.

“Ahem, anyway. It’s well past midnight, and we should be getting to sleep. I’ll let you two down if you apologise for assaulting me and promise not to do it again.” She says, crossing her arms and turning her nose up indignantly.

“I pwooomiseee…” Tiff whines.

“Rejected for insincerity. Marina?” The Chief turns to look at me, ignoring Tiff’s protestations.

“I-I’m sorry for, uh, not helping you when Tiff attacked you, Chief…”

She sighs lightly, dispelling the chains around me with a wave of her hand. My wings give a light flap of thanks, the truly innocent party caught up in the mess here. For once. You get in plenty of trouble yourself, wings.

“You can call me Mia here, Marina.” The Chief… well, Mia says.

“Thank you, Mia-”

“Not in public however. I am the Chief to you everywhere we are in the public eye.” She quickly adds. Alright.

“Miiaaaa… can I be let down nooowwww…” Tiff whines again.

“Fine, but that’s just because you’d be bothering me all night if I kept you there. We should get to sleep. Marina, see Tiffany out, would you?” Mia orders.

“Yes, ma’am.” I salute, standing up from the bed as Tiff hops off the bed after being released from her chains.

“We’ll have another busy day tomorrow. You two sleep well.” Mia waves us off, hopping in bed as Tiff and I leave the room, heading downstairs to the ground floor.

“Marina.” Tiff says, just before we reach the front door.

“Yes?”

“You’re everything she was hoping for, you know.”

“That… that statement’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, it helps that she likes you, too. But you’re exactly who she needs to help see through her goals.”

“I hope I can live up to her ambitions.”

“You already have, in many ways. She can never be honest with herself, but she's a kind and caring person, and she hates seeing people suffer. I’ve done all I can to support her and help her grow, just like everyone else. She has the vision to lead us out of here, and you’re exactly what was needed for everything to come together. Do you know of the promise she made when she became Chief?"

“She hasn’t informed me of such a thing, no.” Although the way Tiff is talking about it, it’s probably something a little embarrassing.

“She made a promise, to everyone in Haven, that they wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives in the Abyss. That she’d find a way out, and all of us would be free from this place. A tall order, but Mia was different. A young, intelligent woman whose dedication and determination was known to all, and a prodigious mage too. Maybe, after a hundred years, she would be the one to lead us out. One way or another.”

“Still, I have a long way to go before I’ll confidently be able to fly six hundred tals up. Not only that, but the plan hinges on the crane still being intact, let alone functional…”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Goodnight, Marina. And thanks.” Tiff smiles, closing the door behind her.

I should probably start trying to practise, or at least better understand how to fly. I can jump and awkwardly flap about in the air for a bit, but that’s not flying, that’s just falling in slow motion, let alone being anywhere near falling with style. It would be a lot more approachable if I had a teacher, but… that questionable old man’s words still ring in my ears.

A bird isn’t born knowing how to fly, it can only try.

The only way forward is to keep trying, as hard as we can.

Maybe one day we’ll see what lies beyond the black cliffs of the Abyss. The wider world, where we were all reborn.

One day.