2
There are legends of people living deep beneath the stones of the eastern mountains. I had heard the stories long before I knew the Black Bloods were real.
But somehow, even after all the magic and monsters I’d seen, I didn’t believe the tales to be true.
I was wrong.
I did not understand how terrible my mistake had been as I journeyed through the darkness. The only sounds in the black stone tunnel were the soft plodding of my feet and the rhythm of my own breathing. There was no sign that any other living person existed.
I don’t know how long I walked down the high-arched corridor before the walls began to sway and exhaustion finally won the battle against my own will to escape.
I lay down on the ground, gripping my lae stone in one hand and my knife in the other. I nestled into m
