Preview from Book 1, title TBD =)
Thank you for reading, means a lot!

Chapter 30Quersius descended down the shaft into the cave. The roar of the typhoon outside was now a relaxing, muffled tune. Light from outside trickled through the hole he entered from, but by the time he had taken several steps, he could barely see anything but darkness a meter ahead. He struck a match and used it to light a lantern now held in his hand. With the light it provided, he was able to see that the path continued almost like a staircase further down beneath the mountain. He kept walking, though he moved more carefully now after stumbling and nearly losing his footing on the inclined surface.
The lantern creaked as it swayed from his handle with each step. Quersius’s eyes dilated as he made his way further from the hole at the entrance, becoming increasingly acclimated to the limited light beneath the mountain. He couldn’t see anything more than an erratic staircase of scattered stone leading to an unknown darkness below. His hunchbacked shadow stood ten feet tall and followed behind him as he ducked beneath the cave’s low ceiling. Its interior was jagged like a dragon’s teeth, and soon the lantern was the only source of light as the mouth of the cave disappeared behind a slight turn. He continued like this, stepping carefully into its depths, and after a prolonged descent, the sound of the storm was overtaken by the sound of ringing in his ears along with the occasional drop of water deep underground.
Finally, he encountered a more level part of the cave and continued walking across the relatively flat but still uneven surface. He was now able to stand at his full height without his head bumping on the rock above. He looked up and saw that the ceiling was nearly out of sight now, barely touched by the lantern’s glow. The once tight passage near the entrance had now opened up into a sizable room. Below his feet he saw a trickle of water weaving across the bumpy cave floor. It whispered faintly beneath his boots as his footsteps echoed through the expanse. Then the water disappeared into a thin crack underfoot. Quersius scanned the ground as he walked in order to avoid misstep. He continued like that for some time. The darkness all around him made him think about the journey ahead to the 7 sigils deep in outer space. No man, elf, or mage had ever ventured to the stars, and he wondered what the heavens had in store for him beyond what his eyes could see.
Quersius stopped walking suddenly, lurching forward and almost losing his balance as he planted his feet immediately. The walls of the cave were narrower now, and just ahead of him he saw a massive hole that led to an endless dark void below. He searched for a nearby rock and threw it to judge its depth. The rock was enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and when he threw it, it took several long seconds to finally crash spectacularly into the stone abyss further down. The hole in the ground in front of Quersius was at least a meter across, maybe two. He considered the best way forward. He knew others had reached the sword chamber before and lived to tell the tale, so he assumed this was the only way. The brave Prince backed up a few yards and then got a running start. Now moving at a considerable speed in the confines of the cave, he reached the edge of the hole and planted his foot near its lip, catapulting himself across the dark expanse until he reached the other side. Upon landing with a splash in a puddle of water on the other side, he began to slow his momentum. but his head struck a once invisible stalactite before he was able to duck out of the way. Quersius was knocked unconscious, stumbling backward before he lost his balance and came to rest on the hard floor.
He awoke shivering some time later and found himself laying soaking wet in a shallow puddle. He opened his eyes and at first thought he was blind, as all he saw was pitch black nothingness. Then he remembered that he was somewhere in a cave, far away from everyone he loved. He brought himself to his knees and began grasping about in the darkness for his one lantern that had guided him this far. He finally found the damn thing and picked it up, though he heard the dreadful sound of water seeping from its unbroken glass globe Quersius reached in the pocket of his tunic and retrieved a small wooden box. It remained dry to the touch, and he opened it to pull out a match. He struck the match against the box’s rough edge, and after three attempts, it finally ignited and showed him the way.
Quersius tried lighting the lantern to no avail, but he glimpsed a tunnel with pockets of water dotted along its floor that grew dimmer before revealing a sharp turn ahead. Within seconds, the match burned out, and all he could sense was its sulphuric odor taunting him in the dark. Out of frustration he smashed the lantern against the wall with all his might, shattering its glass and piercing the dead air with a cacophony of falling debris. He dropped the match along with it and kept moving while he could still make out the image of the cave burned into his retinas.
For a moment, he almost considered returning to the surface, but he could not stand to face the same gaping hole again; the lantern on the ground behind him remained a grim reminder of what he had lost. Instead he trudged onward, guiding himself with his hand against the wall as if it were a prophecy written in braille. After reaching the bend at the end of the tunnel, Quersius stopped and struck another match. He peeked through and saw another section of the cave that opened up behind a narrow crevice blocking his passage. The ground remained solid for as far as he could see, and he saw a steady trickle of water continuing across it past the edge of the flame’s light.
Instead of proceeding normally around the rough corner, the Prince had to turn himself sideways and exhale all the air from his lungs to squeeze his way between the stone lips of the crevice. He made his way step by painstaking step through, and he felt as if he might get stuck there at any moment.
His chest slid across the smooth rock until he felt the pressure easing gradually as the tunnel opened back up into a manageable width. Unsure how many matches he had left, Quersius wished to conserve them. He felt around the new room to gauge its dimensions, ascertaining that it was about as wide as his wingspan. He walked slowly forward using his vague recollection of the terrain to make his way. The reassuring splash of water underfoot reminded him that he was being led by the gentle stream that eventually became a quiet babbling brook.
As Quersius continued further into the depths of the dark cave, he felt the temperature continue to drop inside. His teeth chattered as his damp clothes sat pressed against his skin. He was covered in goosebumps, probably because of his dropping body temperature and the surge of adrenaline that hadn’t left him since things went dark. He feared for his life, and the thought of becoming an eroding skeleton sitting lifeless in the cave haunted his mind’s eye. He thought of Kasja, wondering if she would ever take him back. He wondered if Nyla would wait outside for him, wasting away for days before she finally left. He considered the sorrowful eulogy his father might give in his absence. He imagined if the depths of space might be this dark, but he reminded himself that only he could go there to make amends to the scarred sky. Though his legs trembled, Quersius followed the faint sound of the water flowing further down into the unknown.
Once he was no longer sure where he was, Quersius reached for another match. He managed to light it on the first try this time, perhaps because he knew he couldn’t afford to lose it. He looked ahead and saw the stream of water continue down across predictable footing, though the tunnel narrowed further ahead. He looked up and saw that there was also a large opening in the ceiling above, and he held the match higher to get a better look. Then, a fireball erupted , singing the tips of his fingers as they were kissed by a flash of heat. Flames danced through the shaft overhead, and Quersius fell to his backside, cowering beneath them. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the fire burned out and left him once again laying on the ground in the dark.
Now that the immediate danger of incineration had vanished, Quersius heaved a sigh of relief, only to realize that he was sitting in the cold water of the shallow stream. He stood up, brushing himself off and wondering for a moment if being burned alive would really be worse than freezing to death down here. Then he pushed himself to keep moving. Every step he took warmed his body somewhat, counteracting the impending state of hypothermia he feared.
He finally reached the narrow part of the tunnel. He knew this because he had been waving one hand frantically in front of him once he guessed it was near. He crouched down and thought about squeezing his way through, but then it occurred to him that there was a real chance he could get stuck there. He considered his options and decided to strike another match and accept the possibility of perishing in another raging inferno as a reasonable compromise for the clarity it would give him.
He struck the match, but this time it was a dud, and it only produced a couple dim sparks before becoming useless. He grabbed another from the box, judging that he had maybe 2 or 3 left, and this time it only took two tries to light. This time, the match behaved exactly as expected and showed him a tight but manageable crack in front of him. This one would require him to crawl through on all fours. Beyond, it opened back up into a small room with another narrow tunnel bent past a blind corner.
Once the match went out, Quersius approached the crack and assumed the needed position, dragging his torso across the rough ground and head first through the crack. This one didn’t require him to exhale, though the lovely leather cuirass he wore got scratched on the way through, looking as if it had seen combat by the end. Once he came out the other side, Quersius stood up again and kept moving, stumbling his way through the small stone room.
He reached the blind corner at the end of the room and made his way around it. After he made his way through, Quersius saw a faint blue glow ahead of him. At first he wasn’t sure if his eyes were deceiving him, but after blinking several times in disbelief, he noticed it was coming from a section of rock ahead. The mystical luminescence summoned him closer, and he walked toward it, hypnotized by its beauty. In this new section of cave he found himself in, there was enough for Quersius to stand at his full, princely stature. It was as if he was inside of a massive wave watching it crash all around him as it glimmered like glass in the moonlight. After having been accustomed to pitch blackness for so long, he had to squint momentarily as his eyes adjusted to the increasingly bright light.
He walked toward the end of the tunnel and saw that the floor eventually gave way to a massive room. He reached the edge and stared down and saw the shining rocks emanating their radioactive blue color far below as they lined the wall of a massive chamber. He looked up and the ceiling seemed to extend infinitely into eventual darkness while the floor of the chamber featured a huge skeleton. “This must be it,” Quersius told himself in a state of wonder.
The initial excitement of finding the dragon’s chamber was replaced with practical concerns. How could he get down to the bottom? Quersius eyed the coiled rope strapped to his belt and then noticed a stalagmite jutting from the floor nearby that was also covered in these fluorescent crystals. He tied the rope around it with a secure knot and pulled against it mightily to test its strength. Once satisfied that it could support him, he placed his feet on the edge of the fluorescing path and leaned back until he felt a surge of adrenaline meet his blood as the crisp air kissed his skin. He remembered what happened when he belayed the Horgenflath at Mount Spiney and the rope snapped. Though this time, he knew that the consequences of such an event would be far more catastrophic than just a twisted ankle. The vertical drop to the bottom of the chamber had to be at least 100 feet, and he knew if the rope snapped he’d never make it out. “If I die today, I die with honor,” he told himself.
Quersius committed to the plunge, leaping backwards from the safety of the tunnel and loosening his grip on the rope such that it slid through his fingers until his feet returned to rest on the wall. He did it again, and he watched as the ledge he had leapt from climbed farther and father away. As he made his way down the shimmering wall, the friction of the rope against his gloves produced heat. Soon it felt like he was carrying a hot coal in his hands, but the anticipation of facing the very tomb that had thwarted his people for centuries distracted him enough to make it painless. He wondered if he would leave here empty handed just as some had before. That worry clouded his thoughts.
Before he knew it, the ground was no longer terrifyingly far away. Quersius continued to rappel down, jumping and alighting at an idiosyncratic tempo until he was just meters from the ground. Once he was sure he had made it, he slid down the rest of the way until his hands fell from the end of the rope, which dangled perhaps six feet off the ground. It was as if its length had been chosen by destiny, and he landed with firm footing on the floor of the huge chamber.
The Crown Prince turned around and faced the behemoth skeleton that towered above him. It had come to lay on a huge boulder near the center of this expansive room. He walked toward it, and each of his footsteps echoed dramatically through the cavern. The floor beneath him was just inert stone like most of the cave, though the shimmering light from the walls encircling him allowed Quersius to see clearly now without lanterns or matches.
He marvelled at the tremendous beast that had been slain centuries ago. It looked like an impossibly long snake. Its bone structure was thin, perhaps suggesting it was agile enough to slither out of the caves at its every whim. Quersius remembered the tattered armor he wore and all he had sacrificed to get here. The searing pain of his burned fingertips from the match he had held to ignite a blaze in an underground chasm. It invigorated him as he saw the ultimate test of his fortitude and princely title. There atop the skull of this slain dragon, he saw a sword, gleaming an assortment of different colors, looking like no stone he had ever seen in the most prized collection of the Novaclatz family’s jewelry. Fallen from the stars, laying there, it was Ethereon, blade birthed from the heavens. He thought of Nyla in that moment, and all she must have endured when she was nearly set ablaze as a child. It was all because she cavorted with dragons, the likes of which laid to rest here, sealing the fate of the universe within.
Quersius reached out to touch the tailbone of the massive beast’s betrayed skeleton. There, he felt heartbreak, sorrow, and the enslavement of reason come to pass as he stroked its silken remains. He looked up to the glimmering sword of legends old as it towered far above his reach. Examining the situation, it seemed the best way forth was to climb the dragon’s bones, using it as a bridge to the heavenly blade. He set his foot on the bones of the beast, preparing for the ascent. He leaned forward and grabbed at the next section of its lengthy spine with his hands, and from there he continued climbing it like an alley cat walking across a picket fence. One step after another he progressed, but the distance between the bones increased perhaps exponentially, and soon he had no choice but to right himself to both feet and scurry up the rest of the way in a running motion, using each foot to catapult himself from section to section of meatless bone.

Before long, Quersius was ten feet in the air, and he bravely leapt the substantial distance to the next vertebra. He saw an opportunity to dismount the dragon’s spine onto the stone that it had coveted for centuries as it lay untouched except for a few brave adventurers. The young prince leapt onto the giant boulder hugged by the incomprehensible length of the dragon’s carcass. At its peak, he saw the beast's skull shining like ivory beneath moonlight as the vision of his destiny hung there waiting for his grasp. The hilt of Ethereon looked down upon him, and Quersius wondered if he, too, would be forced to relinquish it and leave these caves empty handed as one brave man had before.
He grabbed the ribs of the ancient dragon and heaved himself upward, oscillating from side to side as he pulled himself upward one hand at a time on separate bones. Once he reached the shoulder blade of the slithering beast, he stood there triumphantly, staring up at the mouth of the tunnel he had rappelled from. Then he assured himself: whether or not this was a fool’s errand, he had sniffed rarefied air to get this far.
Quersius jumped across the last remaining ribs until he finally reached the skull of the exalted creature. He planted his hand on its barren bone as he landed before righting himself on two feet. There within striking distance was the blade he had sacrificed life and limb to reach; Ethereon stood there calling to him. Was it he who was destined to set it free from this abyssal grave deep beneath the troubled mountains of the Isle? Only several swaggering steps could tell that story, and he rose to the challenge of taking them, cape in tow.
Quersius reached out to grab the handle of the Mystic Sword. He grasped it in his hand, but before he could pull, he felt as if he was struck by a dragon at that moment. He glimpsed a supernova lightyears ahead of his time exploding while the skies above the empire remained dormant. He felt a black hole rupture the fabric of time itself and rip apart all he knew to be real. He felt many things at once, but all he could explain was the electrical sensation of energy pulsing through his wrist as he prepared to face the ultimate revelation of destiny.
Flexing his deltoids, the Crown Prince pulled the sword free as if it had chosen him, feeling mighty as he stood there victorious where so many had failed. A mysterious gust of cold air blew from below as he held it skyward far beneath the mountain of the cursed island, and there in his mind’s eye he saw a vision of the untamed cosmos play across the dark ceiling far above him in the deep cavern. The Mystic Sword now belonged to him.