“Like a great, gleaming bloodshot eye rising out of the desert is Alderosh, a microcosm of High Elven design, a whole civilization cut off from the world and reality as we on the outside know it. They are Gaydrim’s children, seeing their world through a rose tinted lens. They know nothing but what their High Lord wants them to know…”

-Pilgrim Keen, Truthseeker

Aeric

I crouch in a grime strewn alley of the South Iron District, in the shadow of a slaughterhouse. The sound of sheep bleating in terror for their lives echoes the cry of my own heart as it races with fear.

I am breathless from my run, thoroughly lost in a dingy maze of industrial buildings. But I think at last I’ve thrown off my pursuers.

Afraid to show my face in the street, I tuck my body into the corner behind a dumpster, and wait. I’m not sure what I should do with myself now, not sure where to go. I only know I can’t go back.

If I go back now, I’m dead.

Overhead, the red hued transparent dome that covers the great metropolis of Alderosh casts the city in a dull pink light. Somewhere above that, heavy clouds thunder and spit rain that runs harmlessly off the magical shield. A good thing, or the city would be bathed in acid.

Other kids at the orphanage talk of rain. Those that spent the early years of their lives outside the safety of the dome said drops of water fall from the sky and turn everything wet. But I have never experienced such a sensation in all my nine years.

A loud clang and the sound of skittering in the dumpster beside me jolts me from my thoughts. A cat? I rise to peer inside and come face to face with a dark, skeletal man. He snarls at me, claiming his territory, and I scramble down the alleyway, feet spinning out beneath me.

I’m running again, I know not where.

I pass many looming gray buildings, factories and slaughterhouses. I pass landfills and trash barges loading at the river docks.

The scent of human refuse marks a homeless camp nearby. There are many such places in South Iron. They are drug addicted, mostly, strung out on pink sugar. It’s the narcotic of choice among the lower class. Most everyone uses it in one form or another. There were kids younger than me at the orphanage who were hooked on it, though Mother Hain warned us of the consequences.

Night is coming on. I ought to start looking for a place to sleep. I’d like to fill my stomach first, but with empty pockets, that’s not possible. I could try my hand at begging, though I doubt these humans would give even their pocket lint to a half-breed like me. Stealing is out of the question, at least for now. Perhaps one day the hunger will erode my conscience, but I haven’t reached that point yet.

I think of the man in the dumpster earlier. Scrounging. That’s always an option.

I slow in the street to peer into a bakery storefront window. My mouth waters to see the breads displayed. This would be a good back door to hang around, I decide. I’m sure even the stuff they throw away is delicious.

As I turn to go, I catch a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection.

Ugly, hideous waif! Unnatural, disgusting creature!

The words I’ve heard screamed at me all my life ring suddenly in my ears, coloring my cheeks with shame.

My bright green eyes are luminous points in my angular, grime covered face. Shaggy silver hair looks gray in the dull evening light. Short, sharp points of ears stick through my unruly locks, the most defining trait of all. Neither human nor elf, I belong in neither world, but at the very bottom of the Alderosh caste system.

It’s no wonder my parents abandoned me.

Mother Hain said I was left on the orphanage’s doorstep as a newborn with nothing but a name pinned to my threadbare blanket—Aeric. For nine years she raised me alongside the others, but I knew I was not like them. I spent my life watching my human brothers and sisters being adopted out one by one, knowing such a happy day would never come for a boy like me.

Realistically, I only ever had one single fate.

They came for me today, representatives for one of the human noble houses, looking for workers for the gemenite mines. Most half elves end up there eventually. We are expendable, suited for nothing but the most dangerous and undesirable jobs.

The life expectancy of a gemenite miner after they enter the profession is ten years. The human nobility pay well enough, so many enter the mines willingly to provide for their families—but no one goes in not knowing the risks.

Mount Gadran is a death trap. The toxic fumes exuded from the mines have been poisoning the air outside Alderosh for millennia. Without the dome the High Elves keep in place over the city, this plain would be a barren wasteland. In spite of this, Alderosh has only grown over the centuries, and continued to thrive on the export of the gemenite crystals with their highly sought after elemental amplification qualities. Those who own stakes in the mines are among the wealthiest men and women on the continent. But everyone knows the real price of the gemenite crystals is paid in blood.

I decided long ago that would never be my fate. So when they came looking for me today, I ran. They came after me, but I was too clever for them, ducking and weaving, squeezing my body between buildings, fleeing for my life, till eventually I ended up here, in a part of the city I’ve never been before.

I hear a whip and a scream in the street behind me. An enforcer is beating back an addict. I watch with haunted eyes as the scene plays out against the looming backdrop of an asylum.

There are many such buildings in South Iron. But not enough to house all the sick people in this rotten metropolis. The harmless lunatics eventually outstay their welcome in the overcrowded facilities; they’re branded and turned loose to live in the streets. Their mad howls as the sun sinks behind the great mountain make me shiver with fear.

I don’t like this place. I was going to hang around behind the bakery and try to get a mouthful of food, but I’ve just changed my mind.

I’ll move to a different district tonight. To North Iron or the Commons, or perhaps to the Trade District, places I know by name only. I’ve never been outside the slums before, but I’m certain anywhere will do. Anywhere but here.

Glancing left and right, I start to trot through the deepening shadows, my destination unknown. People watch me go with mistrusting eyes, threatening eyes. Those still sane in this part of town learned long ago to keep their guard up against any stranger’s sudden movement.

A woman I pass starts to reach for me, moaning painfully, and I shake her off, running faster, heart jumping in my throat.

I wish I were back at the orphanage, sleeping on the floor with my brothers and sisters. That old drafty building wasn’t much, but at least I slept safely. I wonder if I will ever know that feeling again.

I hear more shouting behind me, and the echo of running footsteps on the cobblestoned street. Could it be the ones who tried to buy me earlier? I dart a glance over my shoulder and see dimly the figures of two men just a little ways down the street, running after me.

I panic.

Impulsively, hoping to lose them as I did before, I turn and dart into the first side street I see…