The Shattered Crowns

The Publici toiled relentlessly, scraping the cavern floor for any trace of resin left behind. Each handful of the shimmering substance was precious. The cache dried quickly under the strain of constant mining—usually within days—and missing even a sliver spelled disaster. The Watchers' profits depended on perfection, and "No resin left behind" wasn't just a rule; it was an unspoken threat. Failure wasn't tolerated.

Mirak coughed as he inhaled thick, choking dust. His chest burned with the effort, but he kept working. Nearby, Lock crouched low, carefully picking flakes of resin missed by the first sweep.

"You missed some resin on your left, Mirak," Lock called out, his voice muffled by the oppressive air.

Mirak gave him a tired glance. Lock shifted his weight, and his gaze flicked warily toward the Watcher. The overseer stood farther down the tunnel, flanked by two Saki. The Saki's broad, leathery wings hung awkwardly in the tight space, their eyes scanning the miners like hawks hunting prey.

Lock dropped to one knee and pulled out a dull knife. With practiced precision, he chipped at the rock, carving out more resin and tossing the shards into his batch.

"Keep that knife hidden," Mirak muttered under his breath, his tone sharp. "The Saki will see it if they glance this way. Their eyes are sharper than ours."

Lock waved him off dismissively, his movements careless. "The Saki don't care about me. They're watching the miners at the top. Someone my height? They won't notice."

"You don't think ahead, Lock," Mirak snapped, his tone laced with frustration. "You're going to get yourself killed."

Lock smirked, sliding the blade back into his boot. "I'm the one with the weapon."

"That's exactly the problem," Mirak growled. "You always push too far. Stop drawing attention to yourself!"

Lock gave a mock bow. "Peace, Mirak. The Saki won't bother me over a shiv. I promise you, nothing will happen."

Mirak's scowl deepened. "I'm not pulling you out of punishment when they drag you away."

Lock shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said casually, and Mirak's retort died on his lips.

Before he could respond, a loud thunk reverberated through the cavern, the sound bouncing off the walls. Miners froze in place, their movements halted by the ominous noise. A low murmur broke out among the Publici, their words a butchered mix of Astadian slang. The Watcher, standing rigid in the distance, barked for silence, his tone cutting through the air like a whip.

Mirak turned toward the source of the commotion, his breath catching in his throat. "That's a huge chunk of resin," he murmured, awestruck.

Lock followed his gaze and let out a low whistle. "Big enough to buy a house in the second district of Koona," he said. "Maybe that'll keep the Watcher happy."

The Watcher's commanding voice snapped in Kavish. "Translator!"

Mirak stepped forward reluctantly. "Best we move," he muttered to Lock. "The Watcher's patience doesn't last long, and I don't like the way the Saki are staring."

"You don't need to come," Mirak added, his tone uncertain.

Lock shook his head. "We're partners," he said simply, the word carrying weight beyond what was spoken.

Mirak hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. We're partners."

The Watcher motioned them closer, his pale face twisted with annoyance. The Saki bristled at their sides, muscles taut and spears ready. Their wings shifted uncomfortably, but their eyes never wavered.

The Watcher raised a hand. "The translator is mine," he said in clipped Kavish. "The dog beside him follows him everywhere. Neither could harm me if they tried."

Mirak wisely chose not to translate the insult. He glanced at Lock, whose hand twitched near his knife.

"Tell the men to strike the edges of the resin," the Watcher ordered. "No one touches the center. I want shards, not explosions."

Mirak relayed the command in a calm, measured tone. The Publici got to work, their tools striking the massive resin crystal with careful precision.

It was a calculated strategy. Resin of this size was highly volatile, prone to shattering violently if struck incorrectly. Many mine collapses had been caused by a greedy Watcher demanding miners hack directly into the heart of a crystal. Working around the edges was slower and less profitable but far safer.

The Watcher paced impatiently, his eyes darting toward the exits. "Guard the tunnels," he barked at the Saki. "No thief will take this from me."

The winged creatures obeyed, their spear tips gleaming faintly in the dim light. The Watcher gestured for Lock and Mirak to follow him closer to the resin.

Reluctantly, they complied. The group stood beneath a web of scaffolding surrounding the crystal. The tension was palpable, every miner aware of the explosive potential of their prize.

Then, the worst happened.

A Publici struck too close to the center. A sharp crack echoed through the cavern as a fracture spread across the resin's surface like a spiderweb.

"Get back!" Mirak yelled, his voice raw with urgency.

The crystal erupted in a blinding flash of light and heat. Energy roared through the cavern, scorching everything in its path. Mirak stumbled, his scarred skin itching as the raw force of Atta coursed through the air.

The explosion set off a chain reaction. Smaller resin flakes scattered across the mine ignited one by one, the detonations creating a deadly domino effect.

Mirak barely registered the chaos around him. He was shoved roughly into a side tunnel, his ears ringing and his vision blurred. When the dust finally settled, silence reigned.

Only three remained: Mirak, Lock, and the Watcher.

The tunnel's entrance was blocked, sealed by a wall of rubble. Stones loomed above them, massive and immovable.

The Watcher cursed loudly in Kavish, his voice trembling with anger. "Perfect. Just perfect! I was given the worst of the Publici, and now this! That resin could've made me rich."

Lock groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. "Gods, this is exactly what I warned you about," he muttered. "Now we're trapped. Looks like the only way out is down."

Mirak glared at him. "You think I wanted this?"

Lock shrugged. "You're always saying you want to escape. Consider this a start."

The Watcher straightened, his expression hardening. "You," he snapped, pointing at Mirak. "You'll lead us deeper. The translator stays with me."

Mirak relayed the command to Lock, who burst out laughing. He pulled his knife and turned to the Watcher, his movements deliberate and menacing.

"I think you've misunderstood something," Lock said, his voice cold. "I'm the one with the weapon. That makes me the one giving orders."

The Watcher stumbled backward, his eyes wide with fear.

Lock pressed the blade to the man's throat. "Here's how this works: we'll get out of these mines together. But you try anything, and you won't make it out alive."

Mirak translated, and the Watcher stammered a promise.

"Do you believe him?" Lock asked, his tone light but dangerous.

"Not at all," Mirak replied, his lips curling into a grim smile.

They descended into the depths, the tunnels growing darker and more oppressive with every step. The Watcher's muttering filled the silence, his words incomprehensible and anxious.

The air became humid, thick with the faint tang of resin. The passage widened suddenly, opening into a massive cavern bathed in an ethereal blue glow. Resin coated the walls in veins larger than anything Mirak had ever seen, their faint light illuminating the darkness.