The Flame of Destiny

Underdeep, Greater Caucasus Mountain range

Bound and blindfolded, Samira, her parents and her little brother were harshly pushed into a blinded cart. Apart from the clothes they wore, they couldn’t take anything with them.

The long journey over rough and winding trails was a succession of horrors. They got neither food nor drink, and the ropes around their wrists cut deeper into their skin at every bump in the road. Yet Samira’s thoughts went out to the hundred slaves that accompanied them. These poor wretches had to endure even worse, walking barefoot over the sharp rocks and whipped any time they slowed.

When the shackles came off, there was nowhere to run. When the blindfold came off, there was nothing to see. Samira barely made out the hands she held before her eyes and almost bumped into a rock wall. “Where’s the sun,” she cried.

“Forget it,” said father, “we’re at least a mile inside the mountain.”

“There are lights up there,” her mother said hopefully, “they look like stars.”

Samira loved the night sky and remembered the stars. But the luminous dots in the ceiling were like hundreds of staring eyes of hidden monsters and didn’t look like stars at all. They were pale and cold. “They don’t even twinkle,” said Samira.

With great difficulty, her family stumbled towards their designated hut among the dilapidated slums of the Underdeep. It was even smaller than their home in Ligeia. It was chilly and musty and had nothing pleasant. Father and mother stared sadly at the wall while she tried vainly to soothe Jaro.

They barely survived the first weeks and only thought of food. They had to scrape their existence from the rocks eating mushrooms, worms, woodlice, and - if they were very lucky - a rat. They were the slaves of everyone who saw them. One day her father had to work cutting rocks until he crashed from exhaustion. Her mother Ophelia never left the little alcove she tried to call home. No one ever called them ‘guest’ as the Archon had promised, and the local children jeered and laughed at her when she told them. Wherever she went, people hissed and screamed. The women spat and threw stones. The men insulted her in a language she couldn’t even comprehend.

On one day some older children chased her out of the slums into the dark and humid caves beyond. They were filled with giant slimy worms that slithered through rotting vines and human bones. She barely made it back home, and when she did, she cried a long time.

“You’re lucky the Gulla didn’t get to you,” said father, “nasty little creatures. One of the slave children was taken yesterday. We really have to stick together.”

That’s when they told her. There was a faint hope after all. Her world could change quickly, they promised, and the dark days would be over soon. She just had to go through the initiation rites. Then she wouldn’t be an outcast but a member of the powerful ‘Dark Cult’ and walk freely among the noble people of the Underdeep. They could move and live in the vast central cavern where streams of molten rock provided heat and food was plenty. They could walk in the beautiful Dark City with its stunning architecture and they would be served by slaves.

Samira wanted nothing to do with it. In childish stubbornness, she shouted at her father, “I don’t want to become one of them! Never!”

When he refused to listen, she softly begged her mother to give her more time. “Samira,” sighed Ophelia, “there’s no other way. We’ll all have to go through it. It’s our only chance to survive.”

The mysterious rites scared her even more than the darkness of the Underdeep. She feared that it would seal her fate and that she would have to stay in this awful place forever. In this world of pale evil priests and cruel black warriors. All she wanted was to return to the surface to feel the sun on her skin and smell the sweet spring blossoms.

Uninitiated, she wasn’t allowed to go to school with the other children. Even among the outcasts hiding in the Underdeep, I’m a nobody, she thought bitterly as she hid among the slimy rocks near the classroom. It’s just like in Ligeia, she realized when she tried to pick up one of the lessons that she wasn’t allowed to attend. But then again it is a thousand times worse.

She heard the low rasping voice of the priest in the Underdeep’s strange language that resembled Old Persian according to her father. She understood little of the words but eventually, she managed to decipher the parts that were repeated time and again. “Ahriman is the only god, he is the greatest on Earth, and below, he will rule with fire and pain for all eternity.”

The priest’s voice sounded eerie and menacing through the small crack in the wall. The phrase was repeated by the children. Their high voices were like a breath of fresh air penetrating the dampness of the cave. But soon the voices fell into an even and emotionless cadence and all freshness had gone.

“We are Ahriman’s servants. We are the chosen ones to bring order and justice to the world. Infidels will be destroyed or enslaved by the power of Ahriman,” the voices repeated a dozen times.

The next part sent shivers down her spine. “The day will come when Ahriman rules. He will avenge the sins of the surface people and unleash the Great Fire that will free mortal creatures from their eternal suffering and turn the world back into its pure an beautiful state of dust and darkness.”

How can they talk about justice, freedom, and beauty? It was a perversion of these words. She shivered and pictured the favorite scenes of her old life: the view of the city from the black rock, the lessons with Diokles, a modest dinner at home, the festival of light and fire where she danced until she dropped. “I must not forget,” she kept telling herself. Every night she told and retold these stories to her little brother, yet every time, the scenes became hazier and darker, like the eternal twilight of the Underdeep.

“Who’re you?” barked a raw and angry voice that rudely shook her out of her daydream, “infidels are not allowed here!”

The black-armored guard didn’t wait for a reply. She shrieked when his whip lashed across her back. Tumbling sideways she ducked under his outstretched arms.

“Stop, little rat, you’re in so much trouble!” he snarled. “Come back.”

But Samira ran on and didn’t look back. She dove into a small corridor. Too small for the guard, she hoped.

She emerged on the other side and heard the angry voice again. It was behind her, no, in front of her. Were there more guards? Sound travels strangely through caves, she thought and there was no way of knowing for sure.

She darted left and then ran through a long small corridor.

She hid in a small alcove but was chased away by an angry ape-like creature. It was humanoid, smaller than her but it had long claws and snarled viciously. She backed off and kept running.

She found herself in a larger cavern. It was only a small alcove of the central cave where the Dark Cultists lived, but already, it was brighter and warmer here. The high ceiling was dotted with hundreds of lights, almost like stars. An illusion, she knew, but it reminded her of home and she paused for an instant.

Older children passed by and easily recognized her as an outcast by her gray dress. “Slave!” they shouted, “you’re not allowed to come here!”

They pelted her with stones. A pebble hit her face and blood ran from her cheek. Biting back the pain, she ran away, diving into another small corridor. She kept running further and further.

She entered an area where she had never been before but kept going. Judging by her speed, she ran downhill. The air became hotter and there was a tinge of sulfur. The lights were few and in the ever darker corridors, there was no way to know where she was going.

She didn't care, she no longer ran to escape from the kids or the guards, she just wanted to get away. Away from the pale priests, away from the Underdeep, away from everything - even from her own family who didn’t understand her.

When she was too tired to take another step, she collapsed against a low wall, rasping and coughing. She put her head in her hands. No longer able to hold back her tears, despair took hold of her. Will I ever see the surface again? Will I ever feel the sun and the rain on my skin? Or smell the sweet spring flowers and the fresh pine trees? She cried until she had no more tears to shed.