Under The Red Moon

My mother used to tell me fairy tales.

Tales of a blue sky, a giant yellow ball floating in that blue sky she called the sun.

"Everyone knows the sky is never blue!" I used to tell her. She would smile, and nod her head at her rambunctious son.

"Before we ended up here. Before you, before me, even before my parents. We used to live in this beautiful place." Her eyes would shine with a tinge of sadness and pity everytime she used to tell me this. I couldn't notice it then, but now I do. I would give everything to have my mother sit with me under that blue sky. If only.

—-------------

Clang

"Huff" 

Clang

The sound of metal colliding with rock bounced off the walls of the dark cave. The hot humid tunnels of the mine were only illuminated by small oil lamps that had been lazily put about around the cave. A heavy scent of sweat and sulfur hung in the air, only pushed aside by the many men hammering away at glimmering orange crystals that grew out of the sides of the wall like incessant tumors. 

Most of the miners had defined figures, their brown hair damp from sweat, collecting any dust that might have scattered through the caves. All but one, in a lonely corner of the cave where not even a speck of the oil fueled light illuminated; a small boy hammered away.

Clang

Clang

Clang

The boy looked as if someone had given a skeleton life, skin stretching over his bones. His colorless gray eyes sunken halfway into his skull, his black hair appearing like dirty rags. The boy, though seemingly weak, continued without pause, not out of fearless determination but just pure fear.

'I need more! Last time the Overseer really let me have it.'

The boy cringed as his back had a subtle sting, seemingly remembering the spicy taste of the whip that had attacked his back last time he didn't meet quota. 

With this determination in his mind the child continued to hammer at the walls, even faster than some of the grown men. However, his sickly figure couldn't carry the same strength as one of the full grown miners. For every swing they took was almost 10 of his.

Some of the miners near his vicinity couldn't help but comment,

"He's really going at it today, I feel kind of bad for the kid."

"Don't even think of giving him some of your Myst Crystals. You know he's branded." Another miner quickly chirped back.

"I know, I know. But those damn bastards knew what they were doing by sending that kid to the mines."

The other miner gave him a glare, clearly not wanting to discuss Those Bastards. The miner gave one last pitiful glance towards the boy before sighing and resuming the rhythmic swing of his pickaxe. 

"Assholes, I'm not deaf" The boy muttered under his breath, never stopping his swing.

SCREEECH

Suddenly a piercing noise was heard, causing some of the workers to cringe and plug their ears a little.

"Why do they have to use that insufferable thing everytime." One of the miners said under his breath, receiving a few nods and glances from those around him. 

The boy dropped his pickaxe to the ground, a look of defeat in his eyes. He slung a ragged bag that was seemingly made out of cheap fibers over his shoulder. Compared to the other miners bags his looked pitifully empty; with just a small bulge noticeable towards the bottom of the bag. Walking neither to slow or to fast the boy joined the stream of miners ascending out of the cave.

The boy walked with uneasy steps, his feet sore and blistered from walking through the cave for hours a day with no boots or even sandals.

'I Hope that since I'm near quota the Overseer will let me off light today.'

Bump

A shoulder bumped into the back of the boy. He quickly lost his footing and fell forward, his face landing on the ground, his bag spilling and falling somewhere off in the crowd.

"No!"

The boy tried to swim his way through the crowd of people, but his small stature simply could not budge anyone, as if he was trying to push a boulder up a hill. The boys eyes lost their luster, now no light remained in his eyes, his will had left him. Defeated and trampled over, the boy merely decided to give up and continued to walk with the rest of the crowd.

Eventually a red glow made its way towards the group as they stepped out of the mouth of the cave. The red moon hung high in the sky, glaring down arrogantly at all the people beneath it. The boy couldn't help but look up at the red moon, his eyes still bleak. 

"Watch it, branded." A rough voice sounded out, as the boy had accidentally bumped into a man in front of him. The boy merely looked up. Seeing his dead gray eyes and noticing a missing bag over the boy's shoulder, the man's eyes couldn't help but soften slightly as he merely turned around with a huff and looked forward.

Everyone's eyes were focused on a single spot, a man stood clad in a red robe with a scimitar hanging from the brown leather belt on his waist. Perched on his shoulder was a black bird the size of a small child. Picking at its feathers to clean them. Many of the miners looked at the bird with annoyed stares, but most had their attention on what the man had standing in front of him.

In front of the man was a scale one and a half men high, one side had a weight on it the other side bare. The two plates were a deep dark bronze color, and what many miners dreaded. It was time for their quota checks.

"First one step forward." The man in red pointed at a miner at random. The miner stepped forward, taking the sack off his shoulder before bowing to the man and placing it on the bare side of the scale. The miner nervously picked at his hands, glancing up at the scale every few seconds as it balanced out. After a few seconds the scale finally settled, the man's bag barely raised over the weight.

"Pass. Next." The man in red robes said.

"Thank you, Overseer!" The man hurriedly bowed to the Overseer before grabbing his bag and quickly scrambling away. 

The next man, even more meak and nervous than the last placed his sack on the scale. The sack had a noticeably smaller bulge in it. The Overseer barely looked at it settle before waving his hand at a man in similar red robes to him off to the side. The man quickly hurried over and pulled a whip out that was tucked in his belt. Black thorns were planted along the whip, some half a finger long.

"I'm sorry Overseer, please forgive me!" The miner begged the Overseer, but wasn't even spared a glance as the whip holder began to attack. 

Crack

Smack

"Aaagh!"

The sound of the whip and the cries of the man made some of the miners cringe, and others hold onto their sacks with renewed strength, seemingly afraid someone might try and steal from them to pass quota.

Miner after miner went up, some walked away with glee, whilst others had to endure the bite of the thorned whip. Some tried to hold back their cries, but all was for naught when the whip finally touched upon their backs. Their ragged clothes getting ripped.

"Next" The Overseer called out.

The emaciated boy walked up, just standing there as he had lost his bag.

"Leon… Where is your bag." The Overseer questioned the boy. After receiving no answer, the man's eyebrows dropped as he scowled.

"You know what I told you last time, branded. If you can't fulfill your quota again we'll put you to use somehow. You didn't even bring me a speck of Myst Crystal. Guard, take him to the cage, tomorrow we'll send him to the black sands." 

Another red robed man came over and grabbed Leon by his arm giving it a forceful tug as he dragged him off. 

Leon didn't know how long he was dragged through the dirt and mud for, all he knew was that he ended up in a cell, walls made of thick bricks surrounded him as the guard handed him off to a jailer.

"Be ready to send this one to the Black Sands tomorrow, give him a good beating too."

The Jailer merely nodded before suddenly sending a kick to the boy, the red robed guard gave a small chuckle as he left. The Jailer took out another one of the whips before laying into Leon. Leon laid there, cradled in a ball, tears mixed with his snot and blood landed on the ground. Before long his robe was in tatters, a black tattoo soon revealed itself after his clothes fell off. The tattoo was in the shape of a crescent moon with a scythe standing vertically next to it on his skin.

The Jailer's eyes narrowed, before laying into the boy a bit harder.

"Damn branded. I don't know why they even let you into the mines in the first place."

Leon was unsure when the Jailer stopped beating him, unsure of whether he fell asleep or was knocked unconscious. For the first time in a while, he dreamed. He dreamed of his mother, her pure black hair that fell below her shoulders, and her deep gray eyes that looked at him with compassion. He dreamed of her telling him her fairy tale of the blue sky and silver moon.

He dreamed of her final words,

"I love you, Leon, and I'm so sorry."