Chapter 3: Dreams of Stone and Sky
Sleep offered Konah little respite. He tossed and turned on his thin mattress, plagued by vivid, fragmented dreams.
He saw the city of Miori bathed in a blinding light, temples floating amidst swirling clouds, and the Blessed, clad in shimmering armor, their faces radiant with divine power. But the vision quickly turned to nightmare. The light dimmed, the temples crumbled, and the Blessed, their faces contorted with rage and fear, were engulfed in a consuming darkness.
He saw the blackstone mines, not as the labyrinth of tunnels he knew them to be, but as a vast, interconnected network stretching beneath the entire city. He saw faces etched in the stone, ancient and sorrowful faces that seemed to be pleading for release.
And he saw the symbol, the circle bisected by the spiraling line, glowing with an inner light that pulsated with the rhythm of his own heartbeat. It beckoned him, whispered his name in a language he didn't understand but felt deep within his soul.
He woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow filtering through the cracks in the walls. He could hear Anya breathing softly beside him, and the rhythmic snoring of his father on the floor.
He couldn't shake the feeling that the dreams were more than just figments of his imagination. They were a message, a warning, a glimpse into a future he couldn't yet comprehend.
He needed to understand what he was seeing, what he was feeling. He needed to understand the meaning of the symbol, the nature of his own power, and the destiny that Elara had spoken of.
But where could he turn? The Blessed would never help him, an Unblessed who dared to question the divine order. And the knowledge of the old ways was all but lost, whispered only amongst the most marginalized of the Unblessed.
Then, he remembered a name.
Old Mariam.
She was a recluse, a woman who lived on the fringes of the lower sectors, rumored to be a descendant of the Seers. Whispers claimed she possessed knowledge of the time before the Blessed, before the Gods claimed dominion over Miori. Some said she was mad, haunted by visions of the past and fearful of the future.
But Konah was desperate. He needed answers, and Mariam was his only hope.
The next day, Konah worked with a newfound determination, pushing himself beyond his limits. He needed to earn enough to buy a few extra provisions, a small offering to placate Mariam and hopefully gain her trust.
He kept a wary eye on Vorin, who seemed to be watching him with a strange intensity. Konah couldn't shake the feeling that Vorin had seen something, that he knew about the symbol in the blackstone.
As the shift drew to a close, Konah managed to gather a handful of dried root vegetables and a small flask of fire-spirits – a risky but potentially valuable offering, considering Mariam's rumored fondness for the drink.
He left the mine with a sense of purpose, a flicker of hope burning within him. He didn't know what Mariam would tell him, but he knew that he was finally taking a step towards understanding the truth, towards fulfilling whatever destiny awaited him.
He found Mariam's dwelling huddled in a forgotten corner of the lower sectors, a ramshackle lean-to built against the crumbling remains of an ancient aqueduct. The structure seemed to blend seamlessly with the surrounding decay, almost invisible in the perpetual twilight.
He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the tattered curtain that served as a door. He took a deep breath and pushed it aside.
The interior was dim and cluttered, filled with strange objects – dried herbs, rusted tools, fragments of pottery, and countless scraps of paper covered in cryptic symbols. The air was thick with the smell of incense and something else, something earthy and ancient.
In the center of the room, seated on a low stool, was Mariam. She was an old woman, her face a roadmap of wrinkles etched by time and hardship. Her eyes were milky and clouded, but they seemed to pierce through him, seeing into the very depths of his soul.
She didn't speak, but simply gestured for him to sit. Konah nervously placed his offerings on the ground before her.
Mariam examined the root vegetables with a critical eye, then picked up the flask of fire-spirits and sniffed it appreciatively.
"You seek knowledge, boy," she said, her voice raspy and low. "But knowledge comes at a price."
Konah nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. "I know. I'm willing to pay it."
Mariam smiled, a slow, unsettling smile that revealed a mischievous intention