Hidden deep: chapter one

Tanzanite had always been a very adventurous dragon. He had just hatched that way. The minute he broke out of his shell, he wanted to explore everything, from the deepest tunnels, to the narrowest crevices, to the broadest caverns. He loved the feeling he got when the sensory patches on his talons felt the stone beneath him, and the pattern was something new. It always told him it was a new cavern. Somewhere he hadn’t been, that he could spend anywhere from minutes, to hours, to even a few entire cycles exploring. Of course, he did like the familiarity of home when he returned. He never got lost - granted that was almost impossible for a ShimmerWing. Once the excitement was over, he could go back, and his home would be waiting for him, with the beautiful crystal spires, the elegant arches of pure diamond, the spikes of gemstone bursting from the ground like multicolored, glittering explosions frozen in time. But it wasn’t home anymore. Not after what he had seen her do. The thought of it alone made him want to gag. He couldn’t even imagine what they had been through in their final moments. Trapped with nothing but crushing, suffocating darkness, and the agonizing sensation of their flesh peeling from their bones. Queen Ci- no, former Queen Citrine was a monster, he had never had any illusions about that. But what she had done was something he never would have dreamed of in his worst nightmares. Even if it wasn’t targeted at him, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t consider that home anymore. Not until the memories faded. On the upside, that meant he was no longer tied to any one place. Even if his chains had been severed by trauma, he was still unbound. That meant he could go to the one place that he had always dreamed of. The surface. That turned out to be a lot easier said than done. He knew he certainly wouldn’t be easy, but he had thought his adventure would feel more… well, ADVENTUROUS. Braving the unknown, facing new and exotic dangers, seeing strange and beautiful wildlife, finding bizarre and breathtaking monuments to the Crystal Mother’s grand design. He hadn’t expected it to be so, so boring. Even the ever-present, glowing crystals that filled practically every cave in the UnderDark became less and less common, until they disappeared completely. He was left to navigate with his other senses. The glow mold he took with him had long since dried and faded, and was barely clinging to life. While this was not exactly a challenge, he didn’t enjoy it. He had also not seen any signs of the usual life. Were the caves this close to the surface really so barren? He found a few tiny scraps of moss, and the occasional insect or lizard. He was glad he packed so much supplies. He would have either died or had to turn back. He came to a stop again, closing his eyes - although it didn’t make a difference in the pitch black - and held his breath, just sensing the world around him. He raised one crystalline talon, and tapped the walls around him sharply as he turned in a circle. After a few moments, he stopped. The sound had been slightly different. Such a tiny difference that no other dragon tribe could even hope to pick up on it. But to an explorer as seasoned as him, it was clear as night and day - not that he knew what those were. He tapped a few more times to try to guess how much stone he would have to bury through to reach the hollow section. Just a few feet. It would be tiring, but doable. He took a deep breath, calling up the swirling blades inside him. A moment later, a blast of shimmering dust so fine it was almost a vapor, bursts from his jaws. It intensifies, and the stone begins to fade as if acid was eating away at it. He has to repeat this a few times, then with another tap, he nods. He raises the only tool he had broughten. A pickaxe like weapon, although one side more resembled a war hammer than a pick. He slams the spike into the wall in a circular pattern, until it was deep enough to weaken the stone. Then, with one strike from the hammer end in the middle of the vulnerability he had created in the stone, he shatters it… and immediately regrets the entire journey, as golden rays, so bright he was surprised it didn’t turn him to ashes, shine through. He let out a half panicked, half indignant squawk as he fell back, throwing one arm over his eyes. His wings flared back in surprise, casting a blue and purple tint over the wall behind him. He just stood there for a long moment, utterly in shock. He had reached the surface. After nearly half an hour of letting his eyes adjust, he stepped into the cave he had just accessed. There was a pile of burned scrolls that had been carefully arranged into a fire, and directly above it, a hole in the ceiling that led up to… nothing. Tanzanite stopped in awe and no small part confusion. There was… nothing above. Just a pale blue expanse, with swirling white shapes drifting lazily through. It was his first time ever seeing the sky. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting. From the very old scrolls they still had about the surface, he knew that it didn’t have any sort of ceiling obviously. But the sight of looking up and not seeing more stone was still incredible to him. He heard high pitched, almost musical chirping, coming from above. The branches of a few massive plants swayed with a gentle rustling, although that wasn’t as shocking to him. There were a lot of brown plant roots in the UnderDark. He finally took a better look at the cave itself, and was startled. It was definitely not entirely natural. There was a map on one wall, faded with age and lack of care. It took him a moment to realize it was a map. He thought it was a picture of a strange dragon at first. The sight of a top down map rather than an isometric one was puzzling to him, until he realized that the surface world obviously wouldn’t need it, and face palmed. He walked through the tunnel that was on the opposite wall, and soon emerged into another room. It was much, much larger, wide enough for a few dragons to stand side by side with their wings fully extended, and have room to spare. A large table sat in the middle, stained with small bits of blood, concerningly. It didn’t look like enough to be a seriously injured dragon. Maybe it was a dining hall, and the blood was from prey? His gaze turned to one of the other tunnels, and he froze. Two things immediately stood out, although he felt it was rather silly for his brain to entirely focus on the second. First, a pile of ashes, with small bits of cloth recognizable. It had burned a very long time ago, as there wasn’t the faintest trace of a single ember. Second, there was a dead body. The corpse of a dragon that had clearly been there for years. It was desiccated, almost mummified, withered flesh wrapped tightly over bones that stood out through the scales. The wing membranes had dried and shrunken until they snapped, and cracks ran through it. The cause of death was obvious. Their neck was twisted at an impossible angle, obviously broken. The body was so ruined that it took him a moment to see some of the strange features. The scales had lost most of their color, but they were a sandy yellow. That wasn’t strange, what was strange was the scorpion-like stinger on the end of the dragon’s tail. He examined it as closely as he could without touching the body, and sure enough, it was definitely part of the dragon. Tanzanite just stared for a long moment. He tried to piece together what might have happened, but he just didn’t know enough. He poked around for more clues, including the burned sack. It was filled with mostly just ash, but he could find a few scraps of blackened paper. It had been filled with scrolls. There was a study room before. He looked to the exit, which had a large boulder next to it, which looked like it could be rolled into place. He did so experimentally, and it slid into place with a thunk. So: Several dragons had lived here, and eaten in this room. The first room was likely some kind of study. The entrance was heavy, and likely hidden. His guess was that it was a bunker of some kind. He tried to move the boulder, but… it wouldn’t budge. He quickly grew concerned, then panicked as he struggled to move it. He inspected it closely, seeing a small hole near the center. An oddly shaped one… a keyhole? He cringed as he turned back to the dead dragon. If they were inside, they might have some kind of way to open it. Tanzanite whined as reached out, and rolled the dragon over. He cringed again as the dried, desiccated flesh cracked, stiffened muscles snapping. A key was on the dragon’s neck on a rope. He took it very carefully, and managed to not touch the body again, thankfully. As he turned back to the boulder, he slotted the key into the hole, and after a few tries, there was a satisfyingly heavy click. He pushed the boulder aside again, then paused as another thought struck him. If this place was locked on the inside, then it wasn’t meant to keep things out. It was meant to keep things IN. That was concerning to say the least. He wanted to just leave and get away from this strange place, and all the ominous implications it carried. But his adventurous side wouldn’t let him leave without answers. He moved through some of the other rooms, trying to put together what this place was. One cave looked like a sleeping room, although a very uncomfortable one. Just five barren shelves of rock large enough for a dragon to rest on. Another was so torn up he guessed it was some kind of training room. It looked like it was rather intensive training, by all the stalactites that had been shattered, and even the cracks in the solid stone of the walls and floor. A river ran through the side, and also passed through a second cave of sleeping quarters, this one with four “beds.” He went back to the planning room to examine it closer. It would be the most likely place to find information. He took to poking through some of the scrolls, and realization slowly dawned on him as he examined one. The scroll wasn’t a military plan, or a strategy map, or a letter containing orders. The bright, large, colorful font gave it away. It was a scroll for little dragonets. Put the pieces together. Tanzanite thought. There’s a training room that was very heavily used. The door is locked from the inside. There were sleeping caves. There were scrolls for dragonets. Someone had been training child soldiers. The scorpion dragon had been one of the prison wardens. Someone had escaped. A fire had been lit below the hole. A smoke signal. They were sometimes used in the UnderDark, but it was more about the smell than the sight. Someone had gotten in and killed the warden. The dragonets had escaped. It didn’t explain the bag of burned scrolls by the exit. Maybe it had been more mature scrolls the dragonets wanted to bring with them when they escaped? It was the likely reason why they were there in the first place, but it didn’t explain how they got burned. Had whoever had seen the smoke signal had to fight to break the dragonets out, and set fire to the scrolls accidentally? Tanzanite shakes his head in confusion, worry creasing his brow. He wouldn’t find more answers by investigating this closer. Well, he probably could, but who had that kind of patience? It was time to really go to the surface proper.

The creature waited until the wing beats of its prey have faded, then crawls through the tunnel. It spent a few hours adjusting to the light just as its quarry had. When it finally does, it is delighted. The sky is an alien and terrifying sight to its relatively simple, primitive mind. But Creakers hadn’t become the most feared predators in the UnderDark by being rigid. No, they were perfectly adaptable. And they were always hungry.
The sounds were a little overwhelming as well, but the Creaker was pleased to hear so much life. So much food. It stalked through the other caves, finding the desiccated corpse. Too dried and withered to eat. Useless. It stabbed one serrated limb through the corpse in frustration, punching a hole almost as three times as wide as a dragon’s talon straight through the body.
It quickly turned its attention elsewhere. It needed food. Soon. It clambered across stone walls and even the ceiling as naturally as a fish swam through water, its legs stabbing into the stone deep enough to hold when it couldn’t find preexisting footholds. It quickly emerged into the sunlight, blinking at the golden rays like a hatchling. Its hunger soon overtook its wonder.

They were always hungry. The bird songs were strange to it, but it wouldn’t let unfamiliarity keep it from a meal. It stalked through the trees, having a bit of trouble at first. The spikes on the ends of its legs dug right through the soft soil, getting stuck with every step like walking in deep snow. After a few minutes of stumbling around, it learns to step on the more solid tree roots, and its pace quickens to a terrifying extent. In mere minutes, it had adapted its behavior to a completely different environment, one utterly alien to its home. Another few minutes later, it goes for the kill. Adrenaline - or its equivalent - rushes through its body as it leaps through the air. Its prey, a large boar, never saw it coming. The Creaker lands on the boar's back, latching on like an overgrown tick. With one brutal motion, it drove on spiked leg through the back of the thrashing boar’s neck, severing the spine and killing it instantly. It reveled in the feeling of skin, muscle and bone giving way beneath its claws. It reveled infinitely more in the taste of fresh meat, of still-warm blood filling its mouth and staining its teeth. It was satiated, for now, but even in the wake of such a large meal - indeed the boar had been quite enormous compared to it - its hunger still lingered in the back of its mind. It was merely suppressed, not completely sated. After all, they were always hungry.