The middle passage descended for what felt like hours.
The ancient symbols carved into the walls had evolved from simple geometric patterns into elaborate letters he had never seen before.
"This doesn't feel right," muttered Garrett, an older slave with graying hair and scars that mapped a lifetime of dangerous work.
He walked just behind Kael, his weathered hands gripping his pickaxe with white-knuckled tension. "Twenty years I've been working these tunnels, and I've never felt anything like this."
"None of us have," Kael replied quietly. "Whatever they're looking for down here, it's been sleeping for a long time."
The boy from earlier—his name was Thomas, Kael had learned—stumbled slightly on the uneven footing. "How can you tell it's sleeping? Maybe it's... dead?"
"Dead things don't make the air taste like copper and lightning," said another voice. This came from Willem, a middle-aged man whose left arm bore seared narks from a witch. "And they don't make the stones hum."
Thomas's eyes widened. "You can hear it too?"
"We all can," Kael said, though he kept his voice low. The sound was growing stronger as they descended—a deep, rhythmic vibration. "The question is whether our overseers know what they're sending us into."
Jorik, walking at the front of the group, glanced back with a scowl. "Less talking, more walking. Witch Seraphina is waiting at the excavation site, and she doesn't appreciate delays."
The mention of Seraphina's name sent a ripple of nervous tension through the group. Even among the notoriously temperamental witches, she stood out for her volatility and her tendency to solve problems with overwhelming use of fire magic.
Kael had heard stories of entire work crews reduced to ash because someone had the misfortune to annoy her during a bad mood.
"What's she like?" Thomas whispered to Kael as they continued their descent.
"Imagine a forest fire with intelligence and a personal grudge against everything that exists," Willem answered before Kael could respond. "Then give it the power to reshape reality and a complete inability to control her temper."
"Willem," Kael warned quietly. Speaking ill of the witches could be considered sedition, and sedition was typically punished by methods that made Marcus's frozen death look merciful.
"What? It's not like I'm lying." Willem's voice carried the bitter edge of a man who'd given up caring about consequences.
"She burned my brother alive three years ago because he dropped a cart of ore. Dropped it, mind you, not broke it or lost it or stole from it. Just lost his grip when his back gave out."
Thomas went pale. "What did you do?"
"What could I do? Thanked her for the lesson in proper handling and went back to work." Willem's laugh was harsh and empty. "That's the natural order of things, boy. They kill us, and we thank them for the privilege."
The conversation died as they reached a wider section of tunnel where the ceiling opened up into a vast cavern.
Emergency torches had been set up around the perimeter, their magical flames revealing the scope of what lay before them.
The excavation site was enormous—easily a hundred feet across and at least that deep, with teams of slaves working at different levels connected by rope ladders and wooden platforms.
But it was what they'd uncovered that made Kael's breath catch in his throat.
At the center of the excavation, partially revealed by days of careful digging, stood the remains of a structure unlike anything he'd ever seen.
It wasn't built from stone blocks or carved from living rock—instead, it seemed to have been grown or shaped from some material that looked like crystallized starlight.
"Gods preserve us," Garrett whispered. "What is that thing?"
"Nothing good," Kael replied, while studying the structure. The humming sound was much stronger here, emanating from the walls.
"You three! Get down there and start clearing debris from the south wall!" Jorik's voice cracked like a whip, cutting through their amazement. "The Witch wants that section exposed by the end of the shift!"
They made their way down the rope ladder to the excavation floor, joining the dozens of other slaves who were working to clear centuries of accumulated dirt and stone from around the mysterious structure.
The work was backbreaking—each shovelful of debris had to be hauled up to the surface level by hand, and the magical emanations from the structure made every movement feel like swimming through thick honey.
"What do you think it is?" Thomas asked as they began filling their baskets with loose stone and soil.
"Something that was supposed to stay buried," Willem replied grimly. "You don't build something like this unless you're trying to keep something in. Or keep something out."
Kael worked in contemplative silence, his mind racing as he studied the structure's impossible architecture.
The sound of approaching footsteps made every slave in the excavation freeze. The temperature rose noticeably as Witch Seraphina descended into the cavern, her presence announcing itself through the acrid smell of smoke and the way the air shimmered with heat distortion around her body.
She was younger than Lyralei, perhaps twenty-five, with the kind of beauty that spoke of carefully controlled breeding programs designed to concentrate magical power in aesthetically pleasing packages.
Her hair was a cascade of deep red that seemed to flicker, and her skin had the golden tan of someone who spent time in the sun by choice rather than necessity.
She wore robes of deep crimson silk, and the Flame Coven's crest blazed on her right palm—a spiral of golden fire that pulsed with each heartbeat.
"Progress report," she demanded, her voice carrying the casual authority of someone who'd never been denied anything in her life.
Jorik hurried to her side, consulting his wax tablet. "South wall is sixty percent cleared, my lady. The slaves have been working steadily, and we should have the section fully exposed within—"
"Within what timeframe?" The temperature around Seraphina spiked, and several slaves flinched away from the sudden heat.
"By the end of the shift, my lady. Perhaps a few hours into the next if we encounter unexpected obstacles."
Seraphina's eyes narrowed, the golden fire of her crest flaring brighter. "Unexpected obstacles. Such as?"
"The structure appears to be more extensive than initial surveys indicated," Jorik said carefully. "And the magical emanations are making the work slower than normal. The slaves are having difficulty—"
"The slaves are having difficulty." Seraphina's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Are you telling me that my excavation is behind schedule because a handful of property is feeling inconvenienced?"
Kael kept his head down and continued working, but he could feel the witch's attention sweeping across the excavation like a searchlight. This was the kind of moment when smart slaves became invisible, when any sign of awareness or intelligence could mark you for unwanted attention.
"Perhaps we could motivate them," Seraphina continued, her voice taking on the tone of someone contemplating various forms of entertainment. "A demonstration of what happens to property that fails to meet expectations."
"My lady," Jorik said quickly, "productivity is actually above average for this type of excavation. The difficulty is entirely due to the magical interference from the structure itself."
"Magical interference." Seraphina moved closer to the crystalline walls, studying the patterns that covered their surface. "Yes, I can feel it. Something old and stubborn, resisting our efforts to bring it into the light." She placed her palm against the crystal, and the Flame Coven crest blazed brighter. "Well, we'll just have to convince it to cooperate."
Kael felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the cavern's temperature. There was something in Seraphina's voice—a note of frustrated anger that suggested she was about to do something spectacularly dangerous.
"My lady," he heard himself saying, "perhaps we should—"
The words died in his throat as Seraphina's head turned toward him with predatory precision. Her eyes were the color of molten gold, beautiful and absolutely without mercy.
"Did I ask for input from the property?" she asked, her voice soft and deadly.
"No, my lady," Kael replied, forcing himself to meet her gaze despite every instinct screaming at him to look away. "I spoke out of turn."
"Yes, you did." She studied him for a moment longer, then smiled—a expression that managed to be both beautiful and terrifying. "But perhaps you have something useful to contribute. What were you going to suggest?"
The honest answer was that he'd been about to suggest caution, that the magical emanations from the structure felt dangerous and unpredictable, that perhaps they should study it more carefully before attempting to excavate it with brute force. But honesty would mark him as presumptuous at best, seditious at worst.
"Only that the structure seems to be responding to direct magical contact," he said carefully. "Perhaps a more... gradual approach might yield better results."
Seraphina laughed, a sound like crackling flames. "Gradual. How delightfully timid." She turned back to the crystal wall, her palm still pressed against its surface. "I like more direct methods."
Kael felt Willem grab his arm, pulling him back as the other slaves began to retreat toward the rope ladders. The air was growing noticeably hotter, and the acrid smell of smoke was getting stronger.
"What's she doing?" Thomas whispered.
"Something stupid," Willem replied grimly. "Everyone get ready to run."
Magic began to flow from Seraphina's crest into the crystalline structure, golden fire spreading across its surface like spilled oil.
The ancient symbols flared to life, pulsing with their own inner radiance as they tried to contain or redirect the magical energy being forced into them.
The humming sound grew louder, rising from a whisper to a roar that made the cavern walls tremble.
"My lady," Jorik called out, his voice tight with fear, "perhaps we should—"
"Be silent!" Seraphina snarled, pouring more power into the structure. "I will not be defied by some moldy relic from a dead civilization!"
The crystal began to crack under the assault, hairline fractures spreading outward from the point of contact like a spider web.
But instead of simply breaking, the fissures began to glow with their own light—not the golden fire of Seraphina's magic, but something older and hungrier.
"Everyone out!" Kael shouted, abandoning all pretense of subservience. "Now!"
The slaves didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled for the rope ladders as the magical feedback between Seraphina's power and the ancient structure reached a critical threshold.
The witch herself seemed oblivious to the danger, lost in her own fury as she continued to channel fire magic into the increasingly unstable crystal.
"My lady!" Jorik grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away from the structure. "We need to evacuate!"
Seraphina backhanded him without looking, the blow enhanced by her magic and sending the bonded man flying across the cavern to crash into the far wall. "I said be silent!"
The crystal finally gave way.
The explosion wasn't just magical. The ancient structure detonated like a star going nova, unleashing energies that had been bound since before the first witch had drawn breath.
The cavern ceiling cracked and began to fall, massive chunks of stone raining down on the excavation site as the magical shockwave tore through the tunnel system.
Kael felt the floor give way beneath his feet as secondary explosions rippled outward from the epicenter. He had a brief glimpse of Seraphina's shocked face as she was caught in the backwash of her own magical assault, then the world became a chaos of falling stone and screaming slaves.
The last thing he remembered before the darkness took him was the sensation of falling through layers of crumbling rock.