My hands ran across the glossy surface of the walls, smooth and even. The dampness stuck to my fingers like a film. I looked down at my wet palms and marveled at the tunnel around us. The brown, round hollow looked like the burrow of an enormous mole, if it hadn't been so unbelievably seamless.

After our descent, we had found ourselves in the sewer system of Astralis. No wonder the hole had stunk like that. As I followed the guru, I prepared myself to walk along the spotless path above a river of crap.

Yet only a few steps later, we watched the old man step right through the smooth, white wall. Again Sophie and I looked at each other, before we followed along. What we found behind the fake wall was a tunnel no less clean and smooth than the sewers, yet it wasn't made of the magic-synthesized materials so ubiquitous in the city.

Compressed earth was all that was needed to create this wonder. Instead of the cold white light of the magic lamps, our new path was illuminated in a warm, orange glow which emanated from the old man in our front.

“How is that even possible?” Sophie whispered. In response, the guru turned.

“Built from Magic. All built by hand. For protection. For preparation. For change.”

“Wait, are you saying you built all this by yourself?”

To prove his words, the old man marched to a small pile of dirt on the ground, below a dent in the wall. On our walk I had noticed a few spots like that, places where the moisture had eroded the earth and made it brittle. Wet dirt held in his hands, shaped like a beggar's palms asking for change, he pressed the soil back into its hole. Once his hands pulled back, they revealed a seamless surface, like everywhere else. It was as if nothing had ever happened, as if time had been reversed.

In disbelief I stared at Sophie and saw my thoughts written on her face: Impossible. Stunned into silence, we followed the old man, accompanied by the echoes of our steps bouncing from wall to wall. I had no idea where we would end up, but so far the omnipotent figure in our front had shown no ill-will. Bit by bit, our steps were joined by the echoes of activity from our front. The murmurs, steps and rhythmic bangs combined into a chaotic buzz that could only mean one thing: people.

Soon after, we reached another wall. Again the old man made his way through and continued on. I followed along and was astounded once again. Before me, the tunnel opened up into an open space. Flickering lights, from the ever-present phones all the way down to crude torches made of table legs, rags and oil, illuminated the cavern in erratic flashes and hinted at its enormous size.

The cavern walls were lined with earthen houses, stacked like shoe boxes. Someone had added their own flavor to the constructions, and the distinct combination of corrugated metal proved that this place was an extension of the Squalor above our heads. In between the buildings, I could find all kinds of activity. People ran around, hectic and lost, with no apparent purpose.

After the men and women from above had fled from the raid, they had reached here. Thus, the caves had turned into a giant refugee camp. We stood beyond the concert of lights, elevated above the crowd, so we still hadn't been spotted. A look behind showed the smooth rock walls that lined the entire cavern. Whichever phenomenon had hidden the entrance to the tunnel was disguising its exit as well.

Although I waited for further instructions from the old man, he simply jumped. In a panic, I went on my knees and spied over the edge, only to see the old man land on the hard stone floor three meters down. He didn't even turn and just kept moving. As if it was natural, our guide expected us to follow along.

While Sophie to my side was still hesitant, I took a heart and put my back towards the abyss. Legs flailing, I crawled down the wall until only my hands supported me off the edge. There I dangled, my fingers unwilling to let go and plunge me to what my brain thought to be certain doom. Of course I knew better, but my fingers just wouldn't listen. Cramped up, I looked to my ward Sophie, who had observed all my struggle.

“Hey, help me out here,” I asked in desperation, unaware of the consequences of my foolish request.

“Help you how?” Those large eyes stared back at me, unsure of what to do.

“Just... shove me.”

Gingerly, Sophie made half a step forward, her eyes fixed on the menacing ground below. She inched ahead until her feet were right in front of my face. How had I not noticed her heavy boots before? How strange.

Before my eyes, her soles grew and grew. Before I knew it, my ward had planted her heel on my forehead. The pressure and pain from the shove of the boot gave me no choice but to let go. As I fell, my arms flailed just like my legs, as if I they tried to make the world’s most extreme mud angel on the ground below.

In endless resentment I looked towards the shrinking Sophie, one hand over her tiny mouth and under her panicky eyes, before my back hit the hard stone floor and drove the air from my lungs. The world spun around me as I was focused on the numbing pain. Once I overcame the nausea and came to my senses, I sat up and tried to stretch out my back.

No pain.

At least my body still seemed in one piece.

After my own bodily well-being had been secured, my anger bubbled up. Even if I was her caretaker, I was no punching bag. I stared over, ready to unleash my fury, when I saw that the guru had returned and stood right beside me. After a short glance at me, the old man looked up at Sophie.

“Jump, child. Safety will be guaranteed,” he said.

Although Sophie heard the voice, she was still hesitant. She had seen how I had fared in my attempt, so she wouldn't repeat my mistake. Rather than crawl down on her belly, she took a deep breath and jumped. When I heard her scream and saw her arms flail like windmills a smirk stole onto my face. Now that I saw it from down here, the height of the cliff was laughable. With such a low fall, she would be fine anyways, so I could indulge in my malice for a bit.

However, my diabolical grin turned into the stunned look of a startled goldfish when her fall broke just before she reached the ground. As if the rock had been covered by a thin layer of jello, she bounced back up a bit and landed on her stomach. Whatever had happened, this must have been the old man's doing.

“What the hell?” I stood up in anger.

“You must excuse, child. I am unused to company and thus forgot the trepidation of the fall for mortals.”

Although I started the staring contest, I soon remembered who my opponent was. Instead, I left the scary eyes of the mystic and looked for an easier target to vent on.

“What were you doing? You trying to kill me?” I stomped over to Sophie who lay prone on the ground.

“What do you mean? I shoved you.” Her wide eyes stared at me. I offered her my hand and pulled her onto her insidious boots.

“Follow along, children.” The old man began to move again. While I was willing to follow, I wasn't willing to give up on the issue of the shove.

“Who shoves a person with their feet! Are you sure you don't have any more serious problems? I'm convinced your document has a few pages missing.”

“It's existential dread, not depression! Also, how else should I have shoved you? 'Shove me' isn't exactly a normal request in the first place!”

“Well, I expected you to use your friggin’ hands! Any normal person would!”

“What do you mean use your hands? I'm not gonna crouch down and push you! What if I lose my balance and fall!?”

“Shhhh!” I interrupted Sophie's ludicrous defense because I had spotted something more important than my pride. In front of us, right along our path, stood a group equipped with torches and green jackets. And right in their middle, Lester and his cronies were explaining themselves to an older gangster with a buzz cut.

“Do not fret,” the mystic said, “they will not find our traces.”

Since the overpowered old man kept walking with confidence, I pushed my worries to the side. I wasn't sure what he meant by 'traces', but at least the mystic could defend us if push came to shove.

“You're the new guy, huh? Wayne's little bro, right?” the buzz cut asked.

“That's right, boss! I've got important news! I know why the red beasts are raiding our place!” Lester answered in a high-pitched voice.

“Is that right? And how would a little brat like you know?”

As we closed in on the group, I threw some nervous glances in their direction. However, they didn't even notice my existence. While I might have been used to the sensation from high school, something was definitely strange here. By now I had a hunch what the old mystic had meant by 'find our traces'. Still, I made sure to keep myself between our attackers and my ward. Just in case.

“I'm serious! I met an old classmate today, that little shithead. It has to be him. When we met he was all braggy and trying to show off his new government badge!”

“Fucking city dogs.” The buzz cut spat on the ground.

“That's right! Like all those other government types, the little shithead was all aggressive, saying how he owns the town now and how he's gonna clean up the Squalor. I'm sure he did something to lure all the red guards into our place.”

“Hmmm... once we get out of here we should take a look around for that brat. Least we can do is ask him a few nice questions, right?”

The man's toothy grin told me that his questions would be anything but nice, so I ducked my head between my shoulders as we sneaked past, unseen. Once their group had disappeared into the sea of people behind us, I looked back over to Sophie and knew that all my effort had been wasted: She still appeared not even one bit guilty over her infamous shove.

“Those boots make your feet look huge, by the way,” I said before leaving the girl in my dust to catch up with our savior.

By the time I had reached the old man, he had already arrived at the goal of our journey. In between two buildings, behind a pillar of rock, he went up to a wall and swirled his hands again. “Follow along, children,” he said before he proceeded to step right through the earth, just like he had before.

I looked back at Sophie and was happy to see her not sprint after me to gather some speed for a second kick, before I stepped into the wall. Hands first, of course. I wasn't willing to make myself look stupid again by faceplanting the dirt.

Inside, a long, spiral staircase lead me up through the ground. The steps were made of earth, of course, just like everything else. A few steps up, an entire world opened itself to us. An enormous, circular room had been worked out of the earth around us. So enormous in fact, it spanned the entire cavern below, to form a ring-like structure around its upper edge. All along the inner wall was an open balustrade to look down on the hectic proceedings of the temporary refugee camp.

This sort of construction was impossible to not notice from a distance. It must have been hidden by another trick like the fake walls from before. Before I noticed, Sophie had moved next to me and stared down in awe, too shocked to care about my little hit below the belt. Reminded of my duty, my eyes left the sight and drifted into the room itself.

The ring-like structure was divided into multiple segments, only separated from one another by a thin open wall and a piece of old cloth above the door-less frames. In each room, I could see additional holes in the back, to lead deeper into the earth. This first room was equipped with all kinds of furniture, which appeared to have been grown straight from the ground. Although they seemed uninspired, they were sturdy in design.

Never had I seen anything like this. I wondered just how much time the old man had spent on this place all by himself, even with his magic powers.

We found the creator of the mystical space seated all alone on a sofa, built to overlook the caverns below him. He looked over to us as if he met us for the first time and, realizing his lack of manners, stood up to invite us into his home. The deep gully in the sofa's middle showed this to be the old man's usual resting spot, with a view onto the mortals below, yet always apart.

“Please, sit, children.”

He showed us to a different set of furniture, another couch and two chairs, with a kitchen table in the center. I chose the chair without question, while Sophie decided to hop onto the couch. True to its production method, the chair was hard, much harder than simple soil. Still, it was serviceable, at least I thought so. Though Sophie might have had a different opinion.

Her overenthusiastic vault onto the glazed earth hadn't gone all too well. Now she held her knee as she tried to suppress a painful look on her face. I still derived endless enjoyment out of the experience, which I expressed with a smug grin.

That's what she got for being so rude all the time. Of course, the best seat should be left to the host. Said host joined us with an earthen jug and three matching cups.

“So what's your name, old timer?” Sophie, who still hadn't learned her lesson, asked our mysterious savior in a rude tone.

“Any name of mine has long been left behind. Its existence was a burden on myself, and on the family which shared it. You may call me the Mystic, as it is my chosen moniker.”

The lengthy answer stunned not only me, but Sophie as well. Never before had the old man been this talkative. However, my ward's forward nature soon returned and she asked her next question with a look to the balustrade.

“So what is this place? Some kinda aquarium?”

“The Caverns, the last refuge of the Squalor. It is safe here,” the mystic mumbled without making eye contact. Instead, he poured water for us, before he took a seat on the remaining chair, without so much as a look of complaint towards the girl who had stolen his spot.

“So you built all of this, old man?” Sophie asked.

“Indeed. Years and years of work. A waste of time. Yet time well spent. Like a well from the ground.”

I had no idea what the old man was talking about, but Sophie seemed to have deciphered his ramblings.

“If it's a waste of time, why would you build it?”

“This place, it is the start of revolution. To throw out the old and stale. To overthrow those who exploited. Those in power.”

“Wait, are you saying that the council is exploiting us? To me it seems like they just don't care about us at all,” Sophie said.

“Not you, child. Us.” He pointed at himself and then at me. The silent verdict of his bony finger made me uncomfortable. “Their sight is only ever on the mages. They are the lambs to the slaughter. The common folk are but weed to the side.”

“So... wait,” Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose. “what's bad about them getting more mages? Don't they become part of the ruling class? What do you mean 'lambs to the slaughter'?”

For the first time since I had seen him, the Mystic's face changed. No longer was it a waxen mask. It's life returned in the most horrific way. As if he had seen fear itself, his face distorted in anguish and pain. An absolute terror must have entered his mind, something he hoped to forget.

“Please do not ask, child. I will not recall. But the young mages are lambs, of that you can be sure.”

“But aren't you a mage too? That's how you got all those... strange powers, right? Isn't that magic as well?”

When the old man only nodded, Sophie took the chance to continue her inquiry.

“So how come you're here? Shouldn't you be in the towers with all the others? And learn how to do magic?”

“...an anomaly. Over the years, there have been... mistakes. Fish slip through the nets of the red beasts. I am one. He is another.” Again the mystic's stare pierced me, and Sophie's curious eyes followed. Unprepared for the attention, I scooched around the uncomfortable chair until I found a topic of my own.

“Wait,” my head shot up, “you say years... then how long have you been here?”

Tension grew as the Mystic stared at me, unblinking.

“You don't need to answer if you don't want to.” Even more than his strange way of talking, the man's eyes made me uncomfortable. I was convinced he wasn't in full control of his faculties.

“It matters not.” The Mystic's answer let me catch my breath. “I am simply unaware of the year of my rebirth. Yet I do remember, the Squalor I built in the second year of my return.”

“The Squalor? Wait, hasn't that place been around for over a century!?” Sophie really knew her history.

“Built in defense of the city's reavers. The beasts hunted whatever they could find, and so I built a place they could not enter with ease.”

“No, stop.” I raised my hand, unwilling to listen to more of the man's delusions. Although I wasn't a genius, I had read up on the Squalor. At least this much history I knew as well, since it pertained to my duties as a caretaker. “The Squalor was established by the council in response to an increase in unusual mental problems. It's the City Council's gracious gift to all those who would not accept the blessings of our utopia.”

“After everything we've seen, you still believe that propaganda crap?” Rather than the Mystic, Sophie's sarcastic voice provided the obvious answer I didn't want to consider.

“Well, maybe they had a good reason to raid the Squalor, and all those gangs. They were obviously provoked by someone.”

“You will see, child. You will have to see. See what they do to their harvest. To do what I could not. To carry the burden I declined.” As the conversation progressed, the old man's messages made less and less sense.

“I don't have to do anything.”

Although I was still defiant, the Mystic's speech made me uneasy. I thought back to Eileen, my big sister. She was one of the newly crowned mages, or according to this man, part of the fresh cut wheat. Of course I hoped the old man was wrong and that my sister would be fine. Still, after my last few hours, I would have to prepare for the worst.

“What does that mean? Are you gonna show Brayden a way into the Towers of Knowledge?”

While I was worried, Sophie seemed excited. She showed far more emotions than one could expect from any depressed person, but her improved mood was understandable after what had happened. As far as I could tell, the source of her apathy had been from a feeling of helplessness. Since the Mystic had billed the Caverns as the source of a revolution, I understood just why she was so drawn to this place.

“Indeed this is the case,” the old man replied. Even as he answered Sophie, he never took his eyes off me.

“There is a path into the center. To the slaughtering fields. He will have to see; and he will have to make the choice which I could not. First, however, he will have to learn. Learn to use the gifts they could not steal. And prepare for the day when his strengths will save us all.”

“...my sister became a mage two years ago. What about her?” I asked with worry.

“Your sister may well be found inside those halls. As for her well-being, there may well be hope yet. However, you must abide by the commands and follow the instructions, child.”

The old man got back up from his chair.

“Follow,” he once again uttered that now familiar phrase. However, this time we weren't in imminent danger, so I wouldn't just follow random instructions anymore.

“Wait, wait. We've done nothing but blindly run after you. The least you could do is tell us where we are going now.”

“Your rooms, children. After, we will begin training. There is much to learn.”

Just like that, the piercing stare left my face and the old man marched over to one of the cloth-covered openings. Not once did he look back, certain we would follow. And obedient lambs that we were, of course we did.