Twenty days of scouring every crevice, feeling every wall, knocking on stone after stone in hopes of finding a hollow echo. Twenty days of dim torchlight flickering against the cavern walls, of hushed voices speculating if the dwarves had sealed their paths forever. Twenty days of hope slowly slipping away.
Khaltar had started to think Yaraq was wrong. That the tunnels weren't connected. That the Grey Mountains were just another unreachable dream.
But on the twentieth day, as exhaustion weighed heavy on their shoulders, it wasn't a warrior or a tracker who uncovered their salvation. It was Reza.
She had knelt by the river, her baby nestled in the crook of her arm, tiny fingers clutching the fabric of her worn cloak. The underground stream had been their only source of water, clear and unwavering in its steady flow—until now. Something was different.
As she filled her wooden bowl, she noticed it—the way the ripples didn't move like they should. They weren't drifting outward, but pulling inward, as if something beneath the water was drinking in the motion. Her breath caught.
Slowly, carefully, she set the bowl aside. Her baby whimpered at the sudden shift, but she soothed him with a gentle hum before leaning in, closer... closer... until her reflection stared back at her. Then, without a second thought, she plunged her head into the water.
For a moment, all she could hear was the muffled rush of the current, cold against her skin. The dim glow of the torches above barely reached the depths—but it was enough. She saw it.
A tunnel, hidden beneath the riverbed, carved by hands long forgotten. Stone archways lined with dwarven runes, their surfaces smoothed by centuries of flowing water. It stretched beyond her sight, winding into the unknown. Her heart thundered in her chest.
She yanked her head back up, gasping for air, her soaked hair clinging to her face. She turned to the others, her voice breathless but certain—"I found it."
The entire cavern fell into a tense silence. Everyone had gathered by the river, their torches casting flickering light across the rippling surface. Khaltar stood at the edge, his boots digging into the damp stone as he surveyed the water. The tunnel beneath was their only way out—but where did it lead? What dangers lurked in its depths?
Khaltar turned to the others, his voice steady but firm. "This might be our only way forward. But I don't know how deep it goes, how long the tunnel stretches, or what's on the other side." He met their gazes, especially Yaraq's. "I'll go first. If I don't come back in five minutes, assume I didn't make it."
A heavy pause followed. No one spoke, but the weight of their concern was clear.
Yaraq clenched his jaw. "If you don't come back, I'm coming after you."
Khaltar smirked. "Then wait six minutes."
With that, he stepped forward. His armor was already stripped down to his tunic and pants—he couldn't afford the weight pulling him under. He tightened the wrappings around his hands, took one last breath, and dove in. The cold hit him like a blade.
The water wrapped around his body, swallowing the warmth from his skin as he sank deeper. Darkness pressed in from all sides. His ears filled with the rushing current, muffling the distant crackle of torches above. Focus.
His eyes adjusted to the murky gloom. The tunnel was there—just as Reza had seen. A carved stone archway, its edges softened by time, stretched ahead. Dwarven runes flickered in his mind, half-recognized from the old stories. This place was ancient.
Khaltar kicked forward, pulling himself through the tunnel. The passage wasn't narrow, but the ceiling was low, forcing him to stay hunched as he swam. His lungs burned, but he pushed on. Further.
The tunnel sloped downward, deeper into the unknown. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Was there an exit ahead? Or was this a grave?
A shadow flickered. Khaltar's instincts screamed, and he twisted to the side—just as something moved in the darkness. It was fast. A blur of pale, fingers reaching out—clawed.
His chest tightened. Not alone. He was not alone. Panic clawed at him, but he forced it down. Not now. Keep going.
His lungs ached. How far had he gone? Seconds stretched like eternity. No light. No end. Then—a break.
A flicker of something above. He kicked harder, arms straining, reaching—And suddenly, he breached the surface.
Gasping, he dragged in lungfuls of air. He was in another cavern, the tunnel spitting him out into a wide, underground lake. Stalactites dripped from the ceiling, and the water glowed faintly—phosphorescent moss clinging to the stone walls.
But he wasn't alone. At the far end of the lake, figures shifted in the gloom. Watching. Waiting. Khaltar's grip tightened. Dwarves? Something else?
He didn't wait to find out. Turning, he dove back into the tunnel, racing against the burning in his chest. Above, the others waited.
Five minutes felt like an eternity. The tension among the Silver Axes was thick enough to choke. Yaraq stood closest to the water, muscles coiled, eyes never leaving the surface.
Reza clutched her baby tighter, whispering a prayer. The others murmured amongst themselves, some shifting uneasily. Had Khaltar drowned? Was there another way?
Then—movement. The water rippled. And Khaltar burst from the depths, gasping, alive. The relief was instant, but his face was grim. "We have a way out," he panted. "But we're not alone."
Khaltar pulled himself onto the riverbank, water streaming from his clothes as he caught his breath. His body ached from the effort, but his mind raced with what he had seen. He glanced at the gathered warriors, their eyes filled with anticipation. Yaraq crouched beside him, gripping his shoulder. "What did you see?"
Khaltar exhaled sharply, running a hand through his wet hair before speaking. "There's a tunnel beneath the river. It slopes downward at first, but then it levels out. The stonework—it's dwarven-made, no doubt. The walls are smooth, reinforced. That tunnel wasn't carved by water. It was built."
Murmurs spread through the group. The hope they had clung to for weeks flickered back to life.
"But it's long," Khaltar continued. "I had to swim for what felt like an eternity before I reached the other side. When I surfaced, I found myself in an underground lake, larger than anything I've seen before."
He looked at Reza, whose discovery had led them here. "You were right. There's more to this place than we thought."
Reza nodded, still clutching her child. "And the exit? Did you find a way up?"
Khaltar hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet. The cavern was massive, the ceiling lined with stalactites. The water glowed—some kind of moss growing on the walls, casting a faint blue light. It was enough to see by, but not clearly."
He clenched his fists. "I wasn't alone."
Silence fell over the group.
"What was there?" Yaraq asked, his voice edged with tension.
"Figure." Khaltar's expression darkened. "It standing at the far end of the lake, half-shrouded in shadows. Watching. Waiting. I couldn't see its face, but it were short—about the size of dwarves. Could be the last of its kind… or something else entirely."
The warriors exchanged glances. Everyone knew the old tales—not all dwarves were friendly. Some had sealed themselves away in their mountain halls, their hatred for outsiders festering over generations. And then there were other things—creatures that had taken the shapes of dwarves but were nothing like them.
Yaraq frowned. "You think it's a way to the upper lands? Or to the last dwarven kingdom beneath the Grey Mountains?"
Khaltar wiped water from his face, considering his words. "If this tunnel was built, it had a purpose. The dwarves never made a path that led to nowhere. If we follow it, it has to lead somewhere."
A beat of silence. Then Reza spoke. "Somewhere safe?"
Khaltar met her gaze, then turned to the rest of the warriors. "Or somewhere worse."
The choice was clear. They could stay trapped in the cave, waiting for time to run out, or move forward into the unknown.
Khaltar's voice hardened. "We leave at first light. Everyone prepares. If that tunnel is our only way forward, then we face whatever waits for us."
As the cave grew colder, a chill settled over the refugees, signaling the arrival of night. The Silver Axes and their kin huddled together for warmth, some wrapped in tattered cloaks, others simply pressing close to one another for comfort. The damp stone beneath them offered no luxury, but exhaustion made even the hardest ground feel like a welcome reprieve. Despite the uncertainty ahead, they slept.
When the warmth of the cave returned, Khaltar was already awake. The subtle shift in temperature signaled the rise of a new day—not that they could see the sun, but after weeks of living underground, they had learned to feel time rather than measure it.
He didn't waste a second. "Wake up," he commanded, his voice steady but urgent. "It's time."
The Silver Axes roused themselves, murmurs spreading through the cavern. Children rubbed their tired eyes, mothers hurried to gather their belongings, and the warriors who remained stretched their stiff limbs. They all knew what today meant—a chance for freedom, or a path into deeper darkness.
Khaltar stood at the center of the gathering, his presence alone enough to command attention. Yaraq stood at his side, arms crossed, face unreadable. The three remaining Silver Axes warriors—Boran, Khalid, and Ulan—stood apart, awaiting their orders.
Khaltar took a breath. "Listen well."
Silence fell over the cavern.
"We have one chance to escape this place. The tunnel beneath the river is the only way forward. I don't know where it leads, but we don't have the luxury of staying here forever." His gaze swept across the group, lingering on the elders, the infants clutched in their mothers' arms, the young boys and girls too small to carry weapons.
"We don't have the numbers we once did. Only five of us remain to fight. That means we must be smart—careful. I cannot risk taking every warrior with me, not when there are so many here who still need protection."
He turned to the three remaining Silver Axes warriors. "Boran, Khalid, Ulan—you will stay behind. Guard the children, the infants, the elderly. If anything happens to us, it will be your duty to lead them."
The three men straightened, nodding solemnly. They were hardened warriors, but they understood their task. Survival meant more than battle.
Then Khaltar turned to the women. "I will not force any of you to go with us. But if there are any willing to face the unknown, I will not turn you away."
A hush fell over the group. Then, one by one, six women stepped forward.
Reza – The mother of the cambion child, Omen. She cradled him in her arms but met Khaltar's eyes with unwavering resolve. "If this is the only path, I will walk it," she said.
Hadeefa – The elder woman, wise and strong despite her years. "If this path leads to the dwarves, someone must know how to speak to them," she reasoned. "I will go."
Nadra – A young woman, barely past girlhood, but with the spirit of a warrior. "I have no husband. No child. If I fall, I leave nothing behind. Let me fight."
Soraya – The mother of two, her children old enough to understand what was happening. "I will not let my family be trapped in this cave. If I do not return, at least I tried."
Arianne – A woman who had once been a hunter before the war took everything from her. "I know how to track. I know how to find a way forward."
Zahra – A quiet woman, but one whose eyes burned with determination. "I will go."
Khaltar nodded. "Then it is settled. Yaraq and I, along with these six, will go ahead. We will scout the tunnel and find a path forward. If we do not return—"
He looked at Boran, Khalid, and Ulan. "You do not wait. If we are lost, you must find another way."
The three men exchanged glances, then nodded in unison. Khaltar turned back to the group, eyes sweeping over the children, the frightened but hopeful faces of the refugees. "Stay strong. We will return. And if the gods are with us, we will bring back a future."