My life started in the shadows. Subterra is not for the weak or the feeble. It’s a harsh environment with societies that resemble the surface very little. And the harshest society is that of the dark elves, my kind.

Every week, the priestesses choose a sacrifice. Anyone will do, but the favorite choice is lawbreakers or heretics who shun Xeras, the Plague Mistress. I’ve seen a lot of people suffer a slow, excruciating death at the hands of the priestesses. I've witnessed it quite closely. And I saw it so closely because I was one of their acolytes.

I’d been raised in that sort of life, learning about how to do cruel things to my own people, not to mention anyone caught by our patrols in Subterra or on the surface. It was just how things went. That was life for me; sacrifice and hope I wasn’t next on the altar. Then they brought in Samara.

Samara was twice my age. I learned how to play from her, how to read and write, and most importantly what it meant to love and be loved in return. She was my rock, my shining star. She was the closest thing I had to a big sister, maybe even.

And then she tried to steal from the high priestess, and I was the one unfortunate enough to catch her. I could let her go and expose myself to the risk of sacrifice, or sound the alarm...In that insane world, there was only one sane choice. I called for the guards.

When she was laid upon the altar, she couldn’t even look at me without spitting curses. I didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did when they finally took what was left of her away…But gods, it felt horrible, like I’d had my heart ripped out and thrown on the floor. And everyone else just laughed and carried on like it was normal. Because for them, she was just another nobody, worthy only of being a sacrifice to Xeras.

The next few days were a blur. It was only when I finally had a moment to myself that I could take it all in. I broke down, I do remember that. Cried more than I think I ever had even as a child. And then there she was. Samara, radiating this warmth I’d never felt before. But it wasn’t her. It was something wearing her face, like a mask. They said their name was Sola-Ret, and that they were here to help. I knew the name well. Sola-Ret the Dawnmother, sister of the Plague Mistress. Another goddess like Xeras.

This being, this Sola-Ret, said she was well acquainted with people like me. People who needed redemption. She said to me “It’s alright to feel wrong, to feel remorse for your deeds. But if you desire to truly make up for your mistakes, I can show you the way. I can lead you out of the darkness and into the brilliant light”. To have such a kindness offered to me was…uplifting. I’d never felt such a thing before, not even from my own mother. “Take my hand, child of the dark. I can show you a world beyond your wildest dreams, if you’ll only take but a piece of me with you”, she said. What choice did I have? I took her hand like anyone desperate to be forgiven would do.

I don’t remember how I found my way to the surface. Just that when I stepped into the sun, it was the worst and most invigorating moment of my life. Mountains above, forests below, and fields beyond. It was beautiful beyond my wildest dreams. I just kept walking amidst all the sights and sounds of a world I’d never seen. I didn’t care that the sun hurt my eyes and made my skin crawl, I didn’t care that I’d left my entire life behind. I was free, liberated, ready to brave a whole new world.