Dwarves

Once upon a time, there was a tragedy.

*BOOM, CRASH*

Lightning flashed across the late-evening sky. The mountains were briefly illuminated, showing the three dwarves the familiar trail they had taken for so many years. But they didn’t need the storm’s gleaming light to help them, nor was a lantern required. They knew every rock, every crack in the beaten trail by heart.

And at that moment, with their brethren fighting the queen, she would soon be on their heels, much sooner than they’d like. The darkness, which usually held frightening monsters hiding within, was their friend that night.

The nameless dwarf in the front had not anticipated a fallen tree. He tripped over the wet wood. The coffin resting on his back slipped off, but he caught it before it hit the ground.

“Are yeh alright?” the middle dwarf huffed.

He grumbled and struggled to get to his feet. The queen had stabbed his thigh earlier with her poison-dipped dagger. The fiery pain shooting up his leg hurt like hell.

“Yeh. Is the coffin okay?”

They felt along the glass top, since they could barely see it. On cue, lightning struck, showing them its condition for a few seconds.

“It looks fine. We need to hurry. Keep goin’,” the third dwarf in the back urged.

“Ahhhh!”

A very distant scream echoed in the valley, reaching near the top of their mountain. It was the pitiful, pained sound of a dying creature before taking its final breath.

The three dwarves paused mid-step as the rain pounded, soaking their blood-stained clothes. They were stunned that they had recognized one of their brother’s wails.

“It wasn’t... supposed to be this way.” The middle dwarf teared up. “We were happy. We were thriving. Why now?”

“I don’t know. Keep goin’, keep climbin’,” the leader said.

His voice was hoarse and his throat tight from holding in a cry that wanted to erupt, to grieve for their close-knit family.

But he couldn’t. That would give away their location. And if their location was revealed, the queen...

The trio hurried, feeling the path with their feet, being more careful of any fallen branches and rocks that had tumbled from above. The storm was getting stronger, wind howling in their ears.

Finally, they reached the part where they’d venture off, heading to their secret location. It didn’t look any different from the thick forest surrounding it, which was almost too thick to trek through due to the lack of recent maintenance. No one would know that their mine resided beyond that strip of the mountain, full of endless diamonds and precious metals, items that their species loved to collect and make weapons.

The complicated tunnel system they had built over the years went so deep into the earth that anyone who entered would surely get lost and meet an unfortunate end—falling into the pits of caves, being impaled by sudden sharp stalactites hanging from low ceilings, and so on.

That was where they were going.

The wet soil was slippery, and they almost lost their footing several times. The coffin bumped around haphazardly, disturbing the person inside.

“Careful!” the dwarf in front seethed.

“Speak fer yehself! Yeh be careful!”

After what seemed like a lifetime, they found the entrance to the cave-turned-mine. There was a layer of vines over it, strategically woven to look natural and insignificant to any wanderers.

They pushed the vine curtain aside, and the mine beyond was dry and pitch black.

The third wheezed, “I can’t hold on much longer. My stomach…”

“Stop it. We’re all hurt,” the first scolded. “Think of our four fallen brothers. Their deaths can’t be in vain. We must finish this. Now.”

“I at least want to see where I’m walking…”

“Ugh, always complaining, even in this situation. We have a lantern somewhere around here.”

They paused, quickly found the light, and lit it. The fire reflected on the narrow, rocky wall full of holes from diamonds that were once wedged in them. Those glistening jewels had been picked out and sold when the seven dwarves were in their prime.

As they continued walking, they could barely stand to look at their friend. It was terrible. It was a tragedy. It just shouldn’t have happened!

“K-keep… keep… goin’ further.”

And keep going they did. Going deeper. Going until the temperature decreased. Going until they were on the brink of collapse.

The last dwarf’s arms began shaking, affected by the weight of the fragile box they held. He looked down and saw the trail of his blood behind them. His head was going dizzy, feeling lightheaded and sick. That witch had got him good.

My belly… is this what it feels like to be dying? he thought.

Eventually, they reached it, the place where they would store the coffin for the moment. It was a small, handmade room, picked with a pickax over time because they had discovered a smorgasbord of colorful diamonds.

The three gently placed the coffin on the table that they kept down there and brushed off the tools. And once they had made sure their friend was okay from the journey, they all sighed and patted the top sadly.

“We’ll be back. It won’t take long.”

The dwarves, wounded and exhausted, left to continue the fight near their small cottage.

But no one returned.

***

Thirty-three years later

Taerynn

It was nighttime. A dark elf walked along a trail that had once been used, but had become overrun with weeds, bushes, and young trees. The elf’s long, black, feathered cape kept getting caught in the plants, and his boots sloshed in mud from a recent storm.

“Hmm,” he said as he scanned the area.

It’s here. I can sense it—

*CRACK*

His foot had accidentally stepped on… a body. It had decomposed to nothing but brittle bones and tattered clothes. The elf studied the skeleton, noting the rusty insignia pins on the jacket.

That corpse had been a prince from some faraway land who had met an unknown end. It didn’t look like the bones had been broken or gnawed by any attacking predators... Well, except for the one leg, which he had accidentally crushed.

And it wasn’t the first body of a prince or knight that he had found on that vast mountainous range within the last twenty-two hours. No, it was the...

Seventeenth. I’m sure there are more on this damned land.

He had heard rumors of the area being cursed. It poisoned anyone seeking the lost princess, who was waiting to be woken up from a mysterious sleep.

No one believed such farcical speculations of curses. Mana was rare in those days—an extremely scarce commodity. How could a mountain be covered in it? And what type of demon was capable of casting such a large blanket of Black mana? No one knew the story behind that, making it unbelievable.

But I know it is not merely a rumor.

Being a dark elf himself, he could sense the Black mana oozing within each leaf, piece of bark, and speck of dirt. Not even animals lived there, except maybe dark-fae creatures. Even then, there were no threatening beasts around, either.

The curse did not affect him, as he was not there for the fabled princess. No, there was another item he desired.

He checked his gold pocket watch that contained a secret. The dial read 9:05 P.M. Only two hours were left before 11:11 P.M. All Hallows’ Eve was almost over, a day when the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest.

Once the hands struck the synchronized time, he had to go back and would be unable to return to the mortal realm until the next year on the same day. His own curse had made it that way.

I must find it before then.

Half an hour passed. The old trail didn’t resemble a path anymore.

“Here.”

He stopped, turning his head slowly to the left. The whispers, they were calling to him, beckoning like a siren to a lover.

He followed the indistinct murmurs as they grew louder, and the way eventually ended with a mountain wall covered in an impenetrable layer of vines. He raised a hand, and his long fingernails grazed over them. The layers were as thick as his arm.

“Move,” he commanded, wincing.

Talking wasn’t necessary to use such simple mana, but he needed extra emphasis to make it work. An unsteady amount of energy trickled from his soul’s core, unbearably painful ever since…

Don’t think about that.

The vines trembled and leaves rustled. The meaty growth split apart from the center. It would have taken a long time for an average sword to cut through them if someone had found it.

The entrance to a hidden cave was revealed. The shape had been artificially widened. A breeze brushed his hair from his face. The air was stale and musty. Without hesitation, he went in, footsteps echoing.

When the moonlight couldn’t reach inside anymore, he snapped his fingers. A ball of gray light shimmered in his palm. It allowed him to see ahead in the tunnel.

Enormous spiderwebs weaved in the corners. He eyed the fuzzy, interwoven threads. Those were not from ordinary spiders. They looked old. But just in case…

The dark elf kept his guard up, taking a mental note of exactly where his sword was in its hilt.

“Here. Here.”

The whispers grew more aggressive. They chanted faster. Deeper he went.

The temperature dropped, not like he cared. His realm was much more frigid, enough to give a mortal frostbite in minutes.

Down he went. Over crumbling bridges. Past the diamond piles separated into colors on the ground. Taking the hand-carved stairs. Weaving through a challenging labyrinth of passageways that reminded him of home.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Dow—

He halted, turning his lit-up hand to the right. There was a boulder, purposely placed there. Dust coated the top of it.

Taking a large breath, he summoned his mana with a curled lip, knowing the act would be uncomfortable. Already, his chest ached in agony.

“Roll.”

The huge rock groaned and moved. On the other side was a room. It was not much bigger than a servant’s bedroom at the castle.

When the elf saw what was inside on a cobweb-covered table, he raised an eyebrow.

That... is unexpected.

Though the long box was obscured with lichens and algae, it was clearly a coffin.

“Here,” the whispers called again.

He approached the coffin warily and reached out to wipe off the top. Unlike normal wooden caskets for burying the dead, this material was smooth.

Glass?

It was indeed glass. He leaned and peered inside, holding his glowing mana orb above. A body was lying peacefully inside with their arms across over their chest—black hair, red lips, pale skin, and simply beautiful, even for elvish standards.

Given the very detailed description he had heard so much about, the elf knew who this was—Snow White.

But... you are not a princess. Nor are you dead. Interesting.

What was more confusing was that he had found the item. It was coming from the coffin—no, it was coming from him. Complicated mana enveloped the coffin, protecting the supposed prince inside, who was forever stuck in a coma-like slumber while waiting for their ‘true love's first kiss.’

Now that was a fantasy. There was no such thing as true love. It only brought misfortune and death.

It was now 11:08 P.M. The elf had to hurry before his curse took effect. There was no time to figure out why Snow White gave off the energy that the elf had spent the last three years on the hunt for, combing that side of the country.

The elf opened the unique coffin carefully and eyed the resting boy, who was wearing clothes that signified he was not a commoner—a white, satin shirt and black, high-waisted pants—as if he had just recently been laid to rest, never aging or looking a day older than twenty.

Despite going missing thirty-three years ago.

The elf picked Snow White up, cradling him in his arms.

*THUMP, THUMP, THUMP*

Your heartbeat. Yes, you are definitely not dead.

The elf threw the pocket watch. Before it clanged to the ground, the device glowed more radiantly than the sun. The shape changed, breaking the metal. The mirror underneath the lid grew and grew and grew until it shifted into the size of an oval door.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, show me where I want to go most of all.”

His reflection warped into a swirling storm. The image became a portal to his realm, Myrkrheim—the afterlife for malicious fae creatures, where he, King Taerynn, ruled it all.

He observed the flickering mirror, which should not have been flashing, with disdain. The long crack across it was why he could only teleport on that very day once a year.

The Magic Mirror.

King Taerynn stepped into the oval, carrying his fascinating find. The golden-framed doorway evaporated into smoke when he passed through.

The time became 11:11 P.M.