When major Thorin came back to his senses, he was lying prone, half covered in rubble and dust. The floor had caved in, and he fell through the cracks, landing flat on his left side. As he tried to move, he realized how dire his landing was - he probably had more than just a couple broken ribs. His eyes scanned his surroundings, slowly adapting to the dim light seeping in from above. Wherever he was, it seemed like the ruins above sprawled further down than the explorer's guild originally estimated. He couldn't see walls, but it seemed like a huge hall. Until his eyes found the floor. When they did, he knew that place had nothing to do with the ruins above. The sleek, jet-black surface wasn't like any rock he had ever seen. He struggled to pull off the glove from one of his hands, and as he reached down to touch the shadowy floor, he was surprised to find it smooth and cold. Not so different from the brushed steel of his rapier. He couldn't hold back his smile - the implications that place could have! Then his smile turned to despair, as red light and an overwhelming hum filled the place in an instant. He reached for his revolver, but there wasn't any time left.
Major Thorin's file reads Missing in Action, and he was never found in the small chapel ruins to the south of Mystral where he was sent to. His horse and supplies would indicate he had arrived, but nothing could point to wherever he had gone, and nothing of note was ever found at the ruins.
Several years later, his journal turned up in a black market in the Stern Archipelago, and though most of the pages could be traced back to missions he took part in, the last rumblings merely repeated the following verses:
"The underneath hungers
And dreams to devour the sun"
YOU ARE READING
The Song of the Rift
Fantasy[Story is: Open, Each chapter is fully independent from the others] Tales from a world of dust, iron, fire and electricity.
