When light but graced our land as guest,

A chasm vast did cleave the west,

It sought to build its nest.

'Neath earth and stone, both deep and broad,

From shadow's reach, we sought to laud.

Into the depths, its secrets bide,

Only whispers and cries reside.

A scabbard for the radiance, so bright,

A sheath for light.

Mollom, Level 12, Floor 14

The rough fibers of the harness bit into his shoulders as he leaned back into the void of light. Below, the yawning chasm of Sheath stretched forever. "Steady now, lad," grunted Old Berrin from above, his gnarled hands on the winch. "wouldn't want you to kiss the depths before your time." A chuckle from Rez as he glanced up. "I'll save myself for sweeter things, thanks."

Rez hung among the ruins of a former noble house. Any wood long stripped away, probably burned too. Now the mansion was a stone skeleton, repurposed. It had its own underground access point to the tower of light, extending neverendingly behind him into the depths of the earth.

Rez had walked up from his own families underground quarters to receive messages and parcels that had to be delivered into the lower halls and the fastest way down was through the gap.

The majority of what used to be Sheath lay abandoned above. In a rift that had made it easier to contain and funnel some of that life-giving light that streamed out of the tower. The rift—hollowed out, expanded, towers dug out of the sides, with fields along its length.

Now Sheath dug once more. Tunnels snaked away from the basement in all directions towards the new halls that have been dug over the last 20 years. Caves, in reality. Open space was given up for caverns that crowded the tower ever downward. Escaping the endless dark towards the dimming tower.

Rez’s gaze swept up to where Sheath opened up, he could see the council's horst. Its walls had been largely spared, stretching upward 240 meters from Sheath's valley floor into the everlasting black sky.

Aristocrats in their opulent abodes, politicians and members of the council in echoing halls, or so Rez imagined. And then there were the casters—those revered few still left. Their homes were supposed to be works of art crafted by master stonecutters and unique magic, adorned with intricate carvings and luminous metals that caught and reflected every sliver of light from the tower.

But what's a view if all you see is ruin.

Rez tested another rope's strength. He didn't dare look down; he'd learned that lesson early on. Instead, he let his mind wander to what lay beyond the shimmering wall of light behind him. Enemies, adventure, power,…

A shout snapped him back to reality. "Rez! Mind yourself!" Old Berrin’s voice boomed in the cavern. "Keep your wits about you, wouldn't be the first one swallowed." The last words trailing of into a mumbling that Rez couldn't understand.

Rez grunted in agreement while dusting off his hands on his trousers. Though he looked back at the wall of light behind him again. "You do see them, you know." Rez almost lost his grip as a voice piped up. Turning around frantically, he looked into the grinning face of Meral, the only caster he knew. Meral laughed at his reaction "The Lost. It's like after-images. The moment you cross they are all there. But you have to get in first, and who is going to take a scrawny boy like you!"

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"Meral, leave him be, i don't need him thinking about the Climb anymore than he already is. Go over there and wait until I got your harness ready, unless you got a flying page recently? Rez, time to drop." Berrin spoke to the two, leaving no room for arguments.

"Gap's luck tomorrow!" Rez shouted over to Meral in the last moment before Berrin dropped him.

Perfectly cut, the gap and the tower never varied. The tower sliced through solid stone with a perfect five meter band of air around it. Nothing could change that, not for long at least. No matter if human, plant, equipment, or structure, whatever was placed within that radius would start to weaken after about 12 hours, and dissolve after a day.

On his way down, Rez passed the many workers who clung to the rock face and narrow ledges, their picks and hammers a rhythmic heartbeat echoing through the pit. He passed families huddled in the light, cooking, sleeping, and looking after what they could grow within what they now called home. Some had hung cloth for privacy, but larger halls needed the light to flood back. Privacy was a luxury these days.

Luminescent growths along the edges, and flickers of reflective metal ore in the rock broke the monotone stone facade. Two underground streams had long been diverted to serve the community. They served the green and alive farming halls, with their slanted terraces tilted toward the towers light.

"Got a message for Marn," Rez shouted when he got close to his destination—scanning for his target among the illuminated figures. "Good luck finding him! He's at the gaps end!" returned, accompanied by muted laughter around them. His boots touched down on a broad ledge, as a woman with coal-streaked cheeks stepped forward to pull him in and help him unhook. "That way." she pointed with a chisel toward a narrower shaft cutting into the rock. "Thanks," Rez nodded and made his way along the ledge.

As the tower light gave out after the first turns of the tunnel, he found Marn with a torch inspecting a vein of ore. "Marn? Got something for you." The delver looked up, his face creased with lines like an old map. "What?" he said, not looking away from the wall. "A message. From your wife." Marn took the scrap of paper, eyes scanning the message and started walking back to the pit.

A murmur from nearby workers drew his attention toward the side—a procession of golems marching in unison along the tunnels. Rez stopped in his tracks, it had been years since he last saw them.

The golems, towering figures of stone and metal interwoven with pulsing veins of light, moved with precision. Impossible stone skin and limbs stretched, broke and reshaped with each movement, leaving small trails of white dust hanging along their route. The workers gave them a wide berth, superstition and reverence keeping them at bay.

Rez couldn't tear his eyes away. "Amazing," he whispered to no one in particular. "Last ones." came a gruff voice from behind him. Old Berrin had caught up. "Once, they could have dug us right out the other side of Allei." Rez watched as one golem bent down to shove a boulder that would've taken ten men to move. Runes lit up around the golem and it looked like a stream of light was sucked from the tower into the Golem. A moment later, the boulder tumbled into the gap, carrying an eerie expectancy as the anticipated sound of impact never came.

"Where are they going?" Rez inquired.

"To dig deeper of course. They must have just finished a new hall. Few as they are, it's the only thing that keeps us moving forward… downward. Break open a new cavern and sure as dark, there are tower creatures hiding there. The tower light pushes them back, but we need them gone, not hiding. Light willing, they get enough hearts in the next climb to keep the golems running. It's one thing keeping them out of the rift with the fortifications above, it's something very different when you dig and suddenly stand before one. " The old delver placed a hand on Rez's shoulder. "Best be moving, lad. There's much to do before the dark claims us, and Midwatch is half over."

A cry suddenly cut through all other noise—a shout followed by a terrible silence as everyone turned to see a figure lose their footing high above, sliding towards a ledge over the gap. Gasps and cries mingled with falling stone.

Something shifted in the air—a pulse of power—as a figure stepped forward. Arms raised high, draped in robes that shimmered like darkness and starlight stood a Caster. "Fast!" Marn breathed as runes flared to life around the casters hands. The incantation wove through panicked shouts—a crescendo of command that sought purchase in reality's fabric. Rez stared as an ethereal net spun from pure white light and unfolded beneath the falling worker. The worker crashed into it and was deftly ensnared before being pulled back to rest on a lower ledge, shaken but alive.

Around them, cries have turned to cheers. Workers, now resuming their tasks, shook their heads, clapped in relief, and clutched their talismans.

Rez couldn't help but continue to stare at the caster —it's one thing to see them perform through the towers barrier, but right here, he had felt the power in its wake. Marn muttered beside him, still clutching his wife's message, "That's why we're here."

"For casters?" Rez questioned softly.

"Miracles," Marn corrected him with eyes still fixed on where life had been snatched back from fate's grasp. "For a chance."