Chapter 139 - Connections - V
Carved into the heart of the ancestral mountain, the dwarven capital stood as a testament to stone, steel, and endurance. The black walls, reinforced with glowing runes in an icy blue hue, shimmered like frozen embers beneath the pale light of crystals that lit the eternal tunnels.
That day, the entire people had come to a halt. From the elders in the highest halls to the miners in the deepest levels, all stood in silence, in mourning.
They held small white flowers, one in each hand. With every step marked by the dragging of the white marble coffin, reverence grew stronger. The procession descended slowly down the stone stairways, heading toward the bottom of the mountain—to the Hall of Eternal Rest, where only the great and the honored sleep forever beside the heart of the earth.
Among the silent crowd, one scene cut deeper than blades.
Two dwarven women mother and daughter—both with skin dark as onyx and eyes green as vivid emeralds. Beautiful in their sorrow, their curly hair braided ceremonially, trembling faintly with stifled sobs. The mother held the daughter in a hug that felt more like a plea for comfort than an offering of it.
The older woman’s gaze was hollow, the stare of someone ground down by the merciless gears of life. First, the husband—swallowed by a mine collapse while trying to pay off debts that ate through them like rust.
Now, the daughter’s betrothed her hope for rebuilding, for relief, for a new beginning—had fallen inside a dungeon, with no chance even for goodbye.
Raggram, son of High Lord Ragg Ironbeard, was dead.
The world around them seemed painted in black and white.
The sound of hammers had ceased. The clamor of taverns had died. Not even the forges roared.
And then, the voice of the High Lord deep as the roots of the world—echoed through the mountain’s walls. His silver beard was entwined with black stones in mourning. His eyes were caverns of held-back sorrow.