Born in the Flame

Chapter Nine

Hi journal,

    I don't really know what to name you. You were a gift from Asta. She handmade you and lovingly put you together for me. I think she knows I have too many thoughts within my head to keep it all in there. So here you are, created to help me carry my burdens.

So, in the spirit of sharing burdens with you, I'll start. My name is Svend Silvertooth. My father, brother, and I work in Flys' Forge as bladesmiths. Before I was born, the dawn elves captured the city and forced us to work for them. Better than the villages and towns outside of the mountains, I guess. We don't have a lot of communication with them, but from what I can tell, they mostly work the mines. The villages were either turned to ash or all of the dwarves were moved to mining camps.  So in that regard, I guess we're less like slaves than them. We still work for free and are barely fed. Maybe the idea that the villages have it worse is just a lie they told us to keep us in line. A way to say "you could have it worse."

The other day, that prick of a captain, Magnolia, sent Philli to the fight pits again. Magnolia may be the second son or whatever of a viscount, but the things I would give to see him sent to the fight pits... I'll tell you this: it's very common for them to send us down. We don't get to see the fight, but really, I don't know what would be worse. Would seeing your family member be pummeled to near death be worse than the idea that you are nowhere near to help them? He doesn't send me, just my twin. He knows that hurts me more than any fight could ever. When we were young, Philli was full of such light and happiness. That changed when we were old enough to help my father in his shop.

Philli is a shell of the person I once knew. He mostly deals in the shop. The clatter of steal and iron seems to shake him. Yesterday, he had been sent to the pits for a dumb thing I had said under my breath. I don't know how, but there weren't any injuries on him. Just his blood covered fists. Though there weren't injuries, there was a scar diving far deeper into him. My father once said that we had a gift passed to us from the gods that would protect us in battle. Guess that doesn't count toward any mental affliction. They say twins have deep connections, ones that transcend time and space. Some say we are supposed to have telepathic connections to each other. If that were true, why can't I help him?

On another note, I think I found a way we could fight back. I know what you're thinking, it's what anyone would think. Why would you risk your brother like that? Why would you risk anything on a slim chance of getting rid of the dawn elves?  I do it because it may be the only chance of getting my brother back. He can't heal like this. I haven't said this to anyone, but I am so scared for him. His eyes has looked so glazed over since yesterday. So, all day today, I scoured the secret level the ancient dwarves left us and found text that predates the ancient dwarven. The text is similar enough to ancient dwarven that I may be able to decipher it. Thankfully, the library is somewhere that the dwarves would have to climb stone to get to it. Elves may be used to climbing trees, but stone is completely different.

From what I can see of the text it talks of a long ago war the dwarven fought and won. Now, I don't know who or what the war was over, but all I know is that I need to know their secrets. I have to save my brother. I'm going to hide this journal, but if I somehow get caught and strung up on the ceiling, I need to address something.

Asta, I love you. You know where the book is. You know where the library is. Get that book to my father. Philli, I love you. Be strong.

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Hi journal,

I'm still alive! Of course I am, they need me alive to torture me. Well, torture me in the mundane sense of threatening the lives of everyone I care about. Though my father and brother work in the shop, my father has a lame leg and Philli can't handle the clang of steel. So, for the most part, I work alone.