Pak

　　Where am I&?

　　As I draw my first waking breath, the air struggles against a barrier covering my mouth and nose. Panic floods my chest. There`s something on my face. I shoot upright, fingers fumbling around the straps that keep it clasped behind my head. I try to peel it off, but it`s too tight, digging into my cheeks. I draw in quick, sharp breaths, but it feels like I`m not breathing at all. I scrape the mask`s edges, desperate to free my face, but it`s too tight, too tight, I can`t breathe, I can`t breathe-

　　"You`ll want to keep that on, for now."

　　I freeze.

　　"It`s not going to hurt you."

　　The voice is coming from just ahead of me. I look up, into the darkness. A faint, dusty glow reveals a shut door with a slat cut out about two-thirds of the way down. I`m sitting on a spongy mat in a chilly room carved from the rock. A prison cell.

　　"Take a deep breath. In and out."

　　I do as the voice says. In. It takes a bit more work, but it satisfies my lungs. Out. The particles in front of me flurry, like drizzling sleet under a streetlamp.

　　"There you go. It`s not so bad. A bit uncomfortable, sure, but better than breathing spoli with virgin lungs. Took quite a bit of digging to find that old thing. We haven`t had a visitor in some time."

　　This is different from the voices I normally hear in the dark. It has depth, resonance, and a slight echo. But more importantly, I realize, my ears are hearing the fuzzy Elvish dialect of the Du閚, a language I`ve never understood&

　　"You`re probably wondering how you can understand me. I`m sorry, I should explain."

　　But my mind comprehends the meaning.

　　"Did you eat an enchanted egg or something?" I say through heavy breaths. The voice falters. Something rustles on the other side of the door. I smirk. "I used that spell to talk to a dog, once."

　　"Impressive," he says, sounding legitimately impressed. "How did you get a hold of a nefizzet egg?"

　　"I don`t know what that is." I stifle a cough. "I used a magpie`s egg."

　　"I don`t know what that is," he says with a small hum. "Fascinating. I`ve never talked to a person with this spell, actually, but Miago said you don`t speak our language, so we had to figure something out."

　　As much as I know I should stay alert - as much as I want to pay attention - I feel myself fading. The voice becomes distant. My head feels fuzzy. I sway&

　　"Easy, now. Just focus on breathing. You`re not ready to talk, yet."

　　He`s right. I have to do as he says.

　　"You can just listen, for now. We`ll talk plenty later, once you`ve adjusted to the outpost air. There`s no way to know how long that`ll take, but if I`m right about you&"

　　His voice trails off. A sick film seeps through my forehead.

　　"The spoli have been with us for a long time, now, but I still remember that feeling, not being able to breathe, not knowing why. Nobody knows where they came from. Most people think we shook them loose when our mages carved out the outpost walls, back when we had real mages. We still have magic, but it`s weak, now. We`re just so tired. But... maybe you`ll understand why some of us still believe that they`re Angels."

　　His breath falters, as if the word is too much to bear.

　　"It was just after the Surfacers pushed us this deep that the spoli showed up. We fought so hard, but we lost so much ground. Worst massacre in our history. It got to the point that we were just fighting to keep our dead so we could burn them ourselves. They kept snatching them away. But you`ve seen how dark it is out there. Imagine groping around like that for weeks, after watching so many people die, and then suddenly - poof - light, everywhere. There aren`t many of us left who remember, but& well. I`m very old. Hair down to my ankles, almost. Not much time left."The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

　　"What&" I pant, fighting to stay conscious. "Do you& want&?"

　　The old stranger shushes me gently.

　　"You really shouldn`t talk. I can`t go in there to keep you from hitting the ground. The officers don`t trust me with the keys. I`m retired, so no more privileges for me. They only let me do this today because I`m an elder. And I wanted to speak with you very badly."

　　Don`t trust it.

　　"Anyway, to answer your question, all any of us wants is to make it out of this place. Can you blame us?"

　　I shake my head. A chill bites my fingers and toes.

　　"The Surfacers have been fighting us for thousands of years. I`m sure you already know that. But it`s really not a fair fight. They beat us into the ground, then leave us alone for a while. They won`t kill all of us - just enough to keep our numbers low. But they always come back, every couple hundred years or so. They wait for us to breed, then come back to cull the herd. It`s about to happen again. I`ve been around long enough to notice the pattern. Might be a year or two yet, but&"

　　My head is heavy. I nod& sleepy&

　　"Do you know why they do it? Do you know what they do with our dead? Please, if you know&"

　　His eyes flare with desperate pink light. I teeter and lay down on the mat, muscles quaking with every movement. A solemn silence passes.

　　"Sorry," he says. "I just told you not to talk, and here I go, asking questions. It`s not time for that, yet." He sighs. "Everyone is dying to know what possessed you to come to the Obsidian. There`s all sorts of rumors going around already. But I`ll tell you right now, most people won`t trust you. They`re the same type who think the spoli just burst out of the walls one day. They think we`re infected."

　　The old stranger gives a humorless laugh.

　　"They`re just scared. Fear rules our lives, down here. Fear of the Surfacers, fear of the beasts, fear of starvation& We have so little hope."

　　My lips are warm and moist from the heat of my own breath. I focus on that sensation. It`s soothing, in a strange way, offsetting the musty smell of this thing&

　　"I don`t know what they teach you Surfacers about us, but I can`t imagine it`s anything good. That`s why I`m here. I want you to know how we suffer, before the soldiers scare you into believing whatever they told you up there."

　　My eyelids are too heavy to hold open&

　　"Looks like you need a nap. That`s fine. We`ve got plenty of nefizzet eggs. It won`t be me next time, though. That was disgusting. I`d like to never do it again."

　　I give a weak chuckle.

　　"One last thing. Nobody here wants to hurt you. Believe it or not, we will take the peaceful route if we can. We`re so tired of fighting. But if we have to, we won`t hesitate to kill you. We can`t afford to lose anyone else. So don`t try to pull anything, alright?"

　　I nod&

　　"Good. Get some sleep. Hopefully, by the time you wake up, the spoli will have worked their magic. Most people think they`d acclimate to anyone if you gave it enough time, but& I`m old and stubborn, I suppose. Set in my beliefs. I know the spoli favor us. That`s why they listen when we ask of them. I`ve never seen them do that with a Surfacer. And when the enemy comes, the spoli run, and it gets real dark down here. The only ones that stay behind stay inside our heads. The rest fly up the funnel or disappear through the cracks."

　　I get one last glimpse of the eyes beyond the slat. They shine like they`ve been holding back tears for centuries.

　　"I really thought I`d get to see the surface in my lifetime. I`ve seen it, but& I never got to live up there. Never got to breathe that clean air for long enough to clear the dirt from my lungs. I hoped my kids would make it, but I lost my son centuries ago. I never got his body back. And my daughter, she died to the beasts on her last supply run. I blame myself. I was always too hard on them."

　　His pain prods my heart, but I feel numb to it, like this is all just a dream.

　　"Living this long isn`t all it`s cracked up to be," the old stranger says. "But soon, I`ll be another body to burn. I won`t have to survive anymore. Maybe I`ll get to see my family again&"

　　I sniff, sucking the mask to my nose. A tear leaks from my eye.

　　"If you can help my grandkids get out of here&" He lets out a long, shaky breath. "Ascore rain His blessings upon you, son. We need all the help we can get&"

　　The old stranger`s voice echoes and fades. Just before my mind drifts away, another bright, bright light illuminates this place&