It has been years I spent in the darkness, but I am not sure how many it

have been. Time is relative down here only the shifts for work bring

some stability into our life deep under the tower. Who I was before I came

here I do not know, the apprentices of the Magus clean us of their so

called “unwanted memories”. They even took my NAME! But that has

been so long ago, did I have family? Are they still alive? So many questions

but to find the answer is unlikely.

I claimed the name “Mare” for my own – short for Nightmare. I estimate

myself around 12 years old but I can't be sure. I heard the Magus claimed

me from another Magister that apparently lost a duel to him. We have to

address him and his apprentices as “master” and are not even allowed

to look into their eyes.

The cuts on my back itch like crazy that damn cream makes me want to

scrape my skin off. But it prevents our death to the rot. I once saw a new

one that scraped it off, his back turned black and he died a few days later.

But time is running short, I only have limited time to rest after each operation

and trust me you do not survive here for long if you do not take every bit of

rest you can.

The catacombs are riddled with small blue mushrooms that faintly

glow in the dark. Their light is minimal but it is enough to get by. Just don't eat

them, very bad idea * shudder * they taste like old shoe mixed with a stale

fart and make you bleed from every hole you have for the next few days. I know,

I tried. They had to bring me to a healer up in the tower if not for my caste they

would have likely just let me die.

We are called “Rancar” the most privileged yet the most doomed of the slave

caste. We are used to store valuable material that can only be used if it is fresh.

One of the older Rancar (an achievement in itself) told me that the small packages

drain our vitality/life force/mana call it whatever you want to preserve or even

restore their content. Depending on the color they may only give you a slight

headache or they may drain decades of your life in a day.

There are good sides though as Rancar we cannot get physically punished, no

one even the apprentices are allowed to cause us any kind of harm and we get

triple rations. I guess our payload keeps us alive and kills us at the same time

kind of ironic if you ask me.

Cautiously I make my way through a side tunnel close to my lair, I avoid the bigger

tunnels and the deeper hallways. Ever since the mushroom incident light hurts in my eyes

and the darkness offers safety from most things that are down here.

A nervous breath escapes me as I close the massive door to the small chamber that

I call my own. With a deep * thud * the wooden beam I use to barricade the door

from the inside slides into its place. The catacombs are old, far older than the tower,

generations of Mages and their kin have riddled the deeps with the horrors and

leftovers of centuries of work. Head my advice perk your ears and get rid of your shoes

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you will live longer down here.

Just last week some kind of golem awakened and tore seven guards to shreds before

it was stopped. A healthy dose carefulness will keep you alive down here. The things

that lurk down in the deeps you cannot fight them.

The long scar on my lower belly tells the tale of my own run in with a Duskspider while

exploring one of the deeper levels.

Sitting on the wooden bed I try to calm my thoughts, Anniese a fellow Rancar showed

this to me, if you sit in a special position and empty your thoughts you can meditate

and recharge some of your mana. It works better than sleeping and offers a weird view

on the world. Apparently the mages use this for training.

Carefully I close my eyes and take deep and steady breath – in and out – in and out -

Slowly my vision shifts and the weight falls off my shoulders, Anniese called this

“the ether” a plane of pure energy and thought.

Then with a weird jolt my vision detaches from my body, this is so wonderful you

are weightless and all the beautiful colors that do not burn my eyes. If I did not have

the ether I may have killed myself years ago. Taking a look around everything looks

fine, even the old wards one of the mages anchored in the walls are fine. They are

the main reason I took residence in here, they deter most magical foes that may

wander up here.

My small table may need a new leg soon though, the constant dampness down here

practically eats away at any kind of wood. Then I see myself sitting on the bed,

the first time I saw this, I thought I had died and ran head first into a ward out of panic.

Perched on the wooden board I call bed, sits a small girl in a brown robe, the red hood

sign of a Rancar loosely drapped around her small frame. Shoulder-long brown hair

falls a bit messily out of its folds. Her pale skin seemingly glows under the light of

the blue mushrooms that even grow in this chamber despite all my efforts. You can

rip them out but they pop out again a day later or two.

The most noticeable is the thick leather band over her eyes. My protection against light,

most servants find it creepy and avoid me, even the other Rancar. Only Anniese did not

mind, but she died at least 2 years ago. Now I am alone but I feel safer this way, one

of the slaves tried to rape me after pretending to be my friend. But I got away from him

and avoid an encounter at all costs.

Well time to get to work. Gently I begin to form and guide the swirling colors into my

body, it feels like dancing and the pleasant tickle where the energy enters my body

feels so good. It was so hard to get used to, imagine someone petting your head and

brushing your hair and you have to keep concentrating or the energy breaks away.

Time is so fleeting in this form I nearly missed the bell that signals the next day.

Well time to wash up and get ready or the old Mister Frisk will find a way to punish

without even touching me.