It was only a mirage projected from its own light.

“A last attempt to defend for its life.”

We stared at the vanishing storm silently, almost mourning for the quieted screeches.

Perplexed by the disappearing phenomenon, I approached the storm, only to be stopped by the pull on my hand. My helmet’s light wavered until I regained my balance.

“Don’t go to it,” he snapped warningly, “or you’ll become one of the voices.”

My curiosity suddenly washed away with unease, as the black storm, the new source of my overwhelming fear, condensed into one crystal fragment.

The miner picked up the shard indifferently, as if nothing happened.

“It won’t regenerate now.” He said with a gentle tone, his rusted glove rustling my hair.

Looking up, I only saw a dry, strained smile spreading on Conrad’s face. He winced as my headlamp’s ray shone into his eyes, his glove trying to shield himself from the searing brightness. I whispered a sorry as I looked down at the ground, then moved my attention to the serene surroundings around me.

The crystals on the walls dimmed faintly, then illuminated the Underground again.

“You ought to be careful. Too many comrades were lost to these cursed jewels.”

He picked up the heavy, tarnished pickaxe on the ground.

“And they’ll never be brought back?” I asked feebly.

“We can’t do anything about it. But,” he said as he handed me the rusted pick, “you only need to worry about collecting these damned stones.”

“Now turn off your headlight. The crystals will be attracted to it and more storms will rise.”

Obediently, I twisted the knob on my helmet, the shadows of both of us melding into the darkness as the light disappeared.

We started treading the ground again, my heavy pickaxe digging into the ground, leaving a long, twisted line of turned soil. I heard a sharp click sound behind me, and ceased walking, looking around to find what caused the noise.

“What’s wrong?” asked Conrad.

“How many voices did you hear from that crystal?”

“Can’t tell, at least more than one. But we shouldn’t be bothered by that. People die everyday, trying to do more than they can.” He stopped to pick up a crystal that fell out of my bag.

“It’s part of the natural truth.” said Conrad, staring at the dulled crystal in his hand.

My head felt heavy and drooped, letting gravity and my heavy backpack take control of my body. My heart pounding as the “natural truth” strikes me again and again.

Day 3 in the Underground. 46 crystals collected. 13 illusions. At least 13 casualties in the Underground this week.

“Your old man never led you here?”

“My father never taught me before he was killed.”

A heavy sigh from Conrad.

“Shame.” he said, his own shadow slouching from the weight of the crystals. “You would have learned a lot more from kin than another worker carrying the same toll.”

“Shame.” I echoed.

We turned silent, the only sounds are from my pickaxe breaking the ground, and our big, heavy backpacks clicking as its buckles swayed left and right. The sounds of our footsteps drowned in the lustreless light of the crystals.

The lights became fainter and weaker as we walked forward, flickering for a moment before Conrad stopped in his tracks. There was, for a moment, only my shallow panting.

“Another one, and so close to last time?”

I looked at him, confused. Conrad stared at me with murderous cold eyes, before it shined with a lingering pity, followed by horror of what’s to come.

“Turn on your headlight. Now.” He said sternly, twisting his own as I reached and tried to grasp mine in the evolving darkness. With a click, my light pierced the gloom Underground.

There needs to be enough light from us if the crystals are darkening. Or else, they will start crying like before.

Conrad is still struggling to turn his on.

The light from the crystals continues to darken. Panic starts to creep up my spine, fixing me to where I stand and shaking me uncontrollably. My backpack felt heavier and heavier with every second passing.

The luminescence of the crystals suddenly concentrated on my light, the rays emitting from the stones forming a large, monstrous eye, leering at its new source of food.

There needs to be enough light now. The crystals can only hunt for souls in the dark, when it had lost its own lustre. They love pure souls, the souls of children, children who are left alone. Alone. I am not alone.

My heart started pounding again with each click from Conrad’s helmet, my hands gripping tighter on my pickaxe, trying to overcome my fatigue, fear, and panic.

“Hurry!” I cried. The eye expanded, growing bigger and bigger as my heart beats faster and faster.

There needs to be more light. Once the crystals dims to a certain point, they will start Crying. If only there’s enough light. If only there’s enough light. If only there’s enough light I won’t have to—

Too late.

More light. More light. More light. More light. Please!

Please!

No.

The heavens cannot hear me in the Underground.

Nor will they listen to a child who sold themselves to a life of labour for riches.

The illustration of the eye fragmented, the crystals shattering as the Crying began with a loud, agonizing scream. I could no longer make out the silhouette of Conrad beside me. I’m isolated, separated from the others to become prey for the crystal’s ravenous Hollow.

A large tentacle stretched from the gaping aperture, its dark figure looming over my fear-possessed body.

I stand mortified. The pickaxe falls from my hands, but I no longer could hear the sound of its dropping.

More tentacles sprouted from the new vent, each one growing minuscule black pupils, staring and paralyzing me. The pupils dilated, then rolled into the back of its skin, exposing its white, writhing eyes. They can’t see through their pupils. They can only see the innocent with their pure eyes.

Crying crystals feed on souls.

They like the young ones, the naïve, faultless children thrown into the Underground not by choice, who will approach it with no knowledge.

I expect myself to be saved.

I want myself saved.

But all I can see now is the impending darkness and the helpless screams of a man too far away from me. No sounds were able to escape my lips.

My headlamp vanishes in its shadows.