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sapphicdesiress · 14 days

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In the depths of the mine, mesmerizing plumes of dust swirled around the woman’s lantern. She walked along the tunnel, her bare feet treading lightly on the carved earth. The soft chirping of a canary filled the hollow space. She whistled softly, smiling when the tune was sung back. She adored the little birds, finding comfort in their presence within the isolation of the mountain.

The other miners had gone for the night, or day—it was difficult to tell in the mountain's heart. The guards had tasked her with scouting the tunnels and ensuring there were no thieves attempting to mine the precious crystals while the rest of the slaves and guards rested.

Absently, she walked the familiar twists and turns. Stalking the tunnels was her favored task. Though the fragmented jewels often cut the soles of her feet, she preferred it to having her hands torn from the grueling work of sifting through the rubble and carving out as many crystals as she could, lest the guards get angry with her.

The soft cadence of her voice followed her as she sang to the birds. They echoed in turn, as eager for her company as she was for theirs.

Pain shot through the calloused skin of her foot. She crumbled, biting back a cry. Blood oozed from the puncture wound. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she pressed her palm against the wound. The shaking fingers of her other hand dragged over the ground until she hit the point of something protruding from the dirt. Fearing someone else would step on the dagger-like crystal, she grabbed a rock and began to dig the jewel out.

When the bleeding had stopped, she turned her full attention to the shard. As she continued to dig, she realized the rock-encased crystal was nothing more than petrified wood. Once she had uncovered enough, she pulled with all her meager might. With some wiggling and more pulling, she finally dislodged the piece of ancient wood. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Within the wood, crystals had seeped into the fibers, preserving it. At the end of the rod, the wood flattened and she could make out some kind of symbol, or perhaps that was her imagination. Crystals didn’t form symbols on their own. Perhaps her mistress would find some interest in it and offer her a prize for her finding.

Limping out of the tunnels, she was swiftly confronted by her least favorite guard.

“And what does the little musician have today?” The guard, made of nothing but stocky muscle and cruelty leered over her.

“None of your business. Leave me alone.” The puncture in her foot seared against the ground as she made a hasty attempt to step around the colossal guard.

A burly hand shoved the woman’s shoulder, sending her sprawling out on the ground. Coarse laughter filled the cool night air. The weight of a boulder settled on her chest as the guard knelt on her fragile ribcage. “What did you find?”

“Get off of me,” she choked out as the guard pressed more weight on her.

“Are you going to give me what you found?” “You don’t need it.”

Viscous, yellow teeth sneered down at her. “Maybe I do.”

All the air was crushed from her lungs, leaving her uselessly pushing against the guard’s stocky leg. The guard was as immovable as the mountain looming over them. She threw the precious stake away, and like the dog she was, the guard went to fetch it. Coughing and sputtering, the woman rolled over onto all fours.

“Oh, you did find something good.” Beneath the moonlight, the crystals webbing through the particles of lumber appeared to be liquid lightning streaking through the petrified wood. “Thanks.” The guard turned, her long legs taking her away before the woman could scramble to her feet.

She stumbled, hitting the ground with a painful thud. More thuds followed as she slammed her fists against the ground. She knew better than to yell. The guards and slaves were quick to silence any noise that disturbed their sleep. The woman picked herself up instead and limped off to the stream at the edge of the encampment. Only there, where the water spilled over crumbled rocks and pebbles did she allow herself to grieve.

She stayed until her skin was raw from washing the grime from her face and hands. Tenderly, she had wrapped her foot in a piece of fabric she’d ripped from her skirt. The wound oozed when she flexed her toes, but she had done her best to clean it of debris. Perhaps, if she was lucky, it would become infected and they’d let her do simple chores in her mistress’ home, or maybe they would dispose of her like they had to many of her fellow slaves.

Wearily, she made her way back to the flimsy tent she called home. Building it had taken a year’s worth of wages, but she’d managed. She slipped inside, finding a small bowl of gruel that had gone cold and had begun to dry along the edges. While she enjoyed walking through the tunnels, it often meant she missed supper. Thankfully, the few friends she had all took fragments of their portion and put it into a bowl for her to make sure she had something to eat.

She ate the snotty substance without question or hesitation. It was better than the slop they were given from her mistress’s kitchens after her parties.

After pulling on her thin nightgown, she slipped beneath the scratchy blankets. But rest evaded her. She tossed and turned, angry tears slipping from the corners of her eyes as she imagined the guard offering her prize to her mistress. She’d be promoted, no doubt, and be allowed to leave the filth of the mines behind with a fat sack of gold in her hand.

A chill caressed her spine as the flap of her tent parted. She twisted, heart pounding against her ribs. The figure looming in the cramped space of her sanctuary was worse than the guards she’d faced in the dead of night. Thin and angular, a creature loomed within the darkness. Tattered cloth clung to its form, swaying in the gentle breeze. “You pulled the stake,” its feminine voice rasped. The woman blinked at the apparition. “Speak.”

“Yes.” The air felt too thin, her ribs too bruised to pull in a full breath.

The creature took a shaky step forward. “Your offering was pathetic.” A feather drifted down from its shriveled fingers. “You will bring me another.”

“What?”

The creature shambled forward and ripped her from her cot. “Bring me another offering or you will be the next,” it seethed.

The woman blinked, choking on the stench of death that burned itself into her nose. “I don’t have an offering.” She turned her head, trembling as the creature pulled her closer.

“You freed me from my prison-” withered fingers clawed into the fabric of her gown “-and you dare be empty-handed.”

“I didn’t know,” she said, her words rushed and small. “I didn’t know you were there.”

The creature was silent for a tense moment, waiting.

“I stepped on it and-and I didn’t want anyone else to. I had no idea. Please.”

“You stepped on it,” the creature repeated, its voice low and drenched with something poisonous.

The woman nodded, quick minuscule movements.

The clawed hand released her. “I will return.” The creature stumbled out of the tent.

Someone yelped, then screamed. Panic ensued. Yells and shrieks ripped through the encampment. Fires were stoked. Swords unsheathed. The agonizing screams of the dying filled the night air. Gore and blood washed over the tents like rain.

She stayed inside her tent, watching as crimson soaked through the canvas walls of her home. Slowly, she moved back onto her cot and wrapped her blanket around herself. It was a nightmare, she told herself. When she woke, it would be to the bells signaling the beginning of the day. She would get in line for her morning gruel with the others before being funneled into the mountain. Yes. The dream would fade and she would speak nothing of it.

Silence fell over the camp, save for the rhythmic sound of squelching as something neared. “Hiding, I see,” a voice like spider’s silk crooned. The woman dared to open her eyes. Glowing eyes stared back at her. Its withered, monstrous form had been replaced by soft, full curves. Pieces of flesh dripped from her mouth where two fangs protruded from her upper lip. “I will not harm you.” There was no kindness in her smile. “Come.” Trembling, the woman slowly slid off her cot. She hugged her blanket around her shoulders, a poor shield in the face of a monster.

“You are a slave.” Those glowing eyes watched her expectantly.

“Yes.”

“Where is your owner?”

The woman swallowed and looked toward the settlement several miles from the mines. The creature vanished, and she fell to her knees, curling over herself.

Mere minutes passed before the gore-covered creature returned. Something landed on the ground with a thwap. “Freedom for freedom.” The woman’s gaze lifted. The head of her mistress lay before her, eyes glazed in terror.

“Rise,” the creature snapped. “You will accompany me and tell me of this new world. Collect your possessions while I clean myself.” She rose, absently moving through her tent as she placed what little she had into a makeshift sack. All but the lute she’d been gifted by one of her fellow slaves fit. She tossed the sack over her shoulder and clutched the instrument to her chest.

Several minutes passed before the creature returned, dressed in one of the elegant gowns her mistress had worn. She parted the flap of the tent. Her lips curled into a snarl before her gaze fell to the lute in the woman’s arms. Venomous eyes narrowed for a moment. “Tell me your name.”

“I-” she bowed her head “-I don’t know it. We don’t have names.”

“Even I named my slaves,” the creature hissed. “Your name is Lyra now.” She stepped back from the opening of the tent. “Let’s go. The mud is ruining my dress.”

Lyra blinked before quickly following. She kept her eyes on the creature, ignoring the destruction around her. In the soft moonlight, she could make out the sharp line of the creature’s jaw, the full line of her lips, and thick brows that harbored a permanent scowl. She was lovely in every sense of the word. And she had freed her. “Where will we go,” Lyra asked, aimlessly following behind her.

“Wherever there are legends of that harlot that imprisoned me.” She looked at Lyra. “Once you tell me of this world, you will be free to do as you please.” “Who imprisoned you?” “What do you know of the Goddess of the Mountain?”