Chapter 1: Azurielle Pyrite-Jaz
Ash. Rubber. Metal. Sweat. Thirteen-year-old Azurielle Pyrite-Jaz was at her designated mining site again in her hometown Cinderglow, rummaging through the flying debris for valuable minerals. Her once spotless white nitrile gloves were now painted in ash and dust, dark spots apparent throughout. The air around her was thick, stinging her eyes through her safety goggles, the faint taste of rust lingering in her mouth. She adjusted her helmet, pulling the visor lower as the blinding light of the mining lasers sliced through the haze. The sound of drills, whirring and clanging in the distance, was the only music she knew, the familiar lullaby of Varnis’ relentless industry.
The rock beneath her boots was uneven, jagged, a constant reminder of the harshness of the moon’s surface. Each step felt heavier, weighed down by the years of toil, the years of watching the galaxy’s elite in Aurion live in luxury while her people bled for their resources. She swiped a piece of ore from the ground, turning it over in her gloved hands. The light from her tool illuminated its glinting surface—a precious metal, but one she would never see the benefit of. It would be sent to Aurion, leaving her with nothing but the dust in her lungs and the ache in her bones.
“Find something yet?” she heard a faint but familiar voice float from above. It belonged to her long time bestfriend Jadessia Ame-Feld. Azurielle glanced up, squinting through the smoke-filled air to see Jadessia’s silhouette above, peering from the entrance of the tunnel. Azurielle caught a glimpse of her setting a bag–probably full of extracted ores–onto the ground as she bent down to tighten the knot securing a rope to the pole at the entrance. The rope reached down to Azurielle’s level, a bucket tied to its end. Her friend’s face was barely visible behind the protective cloth she wrapped around her nose and mouth to avoid triggering her asthma.
Azurielle looked back at the rock and inspected it closely, guiding her flashlight so she could get a clearer look. “Seems like a very hard and shiny mineral,” she yelled back. “High reflectance, too. I’d say it’s either rhodium, iridium, or ruthenium, given its physical characteristics and abundance in this area.” She gently tossed the mineral into the bucket, watching it settle among the other rocks with a hard clang. Jadessia pulled the rope, and the bucket rattled up the length of it, disappearing into the thick air above. Azurielle took a moment to catch her breath, wiping her brow, trying to ignore the stinging in her eyes. She glanced up again. “You’re sure you’re okay up there? Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“I’m fine,” Jadessia called back, her voice strained. Azurielle could hear the wheeze behind it, even from this distance. She knew why her friend kept pushing herself, why she’d risked her health again and again in this suffocating mine. Jadessia was an only child, and her parents were too old to do the hard labor anymore. They had once been miners too, but now their bones ached with the years, their lungs weighed down by the very air that threatened to choke them. Jadessia had no choice but to work, to carry the burden of their survival on her shoulders. On Varnis, mining was the primary job anyone could get, and even with her asthma, it was all Jadessia knew. She couldn’t afford to stop. She couldn’t afford to let her parents starve, and she couldn’t afford to let herself be another victim of the system that crushed them all. Every day, she fought for the promise of something better, even though the air she breathed seemed to betray her with every breath.
“Great,” Jadessia called tiredly from above, calculating the total amount of minerals Azurielle had extracted. “We’ve only gotten around ten kilograms of valuable minerals and it’s already noon!”
“What can I say,” Azurielle replied, equally exhausted. “We still have another twenty to collect before the inspectors arrive!”
Her family had been here long enough to know how it worked. They had seen it firsthand—the corporate overseers who watched from the control towers, the Aurion executives who came to inspect the progress of the mines in their polished suits. To them, Varnis was nothing but a means to luxury. But to her people? To Azurielle’s family? It was life, and life meant sacrifice.
“Carnithor’s calling,” Jadessia informed Azurielle, referring to the head of the Cinderglow processing site. Ever since her worsening asthma, Jadessia worked more on the processing of the extracted ores than the extraction itself, which was why Azurielle was burdened with Jadessia’s portions of mining as well. Every few hours, Carnithor would call the processors to submit whatever had already been mined so they could grind them into fine powders that helped in the collection of the significant parts and organization of the minerals.
As Azurielle watched her friend grab the heavy bag of ores and scurry to the processing centre, she noticed a tall shadow fall on the shards of rocks by her feet. “I don’t mind lending a hand,” she heard a deep voice say.
Azurielle turned in the direction of the voice. A sturdy man with spiky jet black hair like obsidian stood by Azurielle’s mining area, a helmet and hammer drill in his gloved hand. “I finished my portion of the day,” the man continued. “And it’s not like I have anything better to do.”
The man’s steel-coloured eyes seemed familiar to Azurielle, although where she had seen them, she wasn’t sure. He looked young, maybe mid-30s, but his features were chiseled in a way that suggested he had endured as much as anyone on Varnis–if not more.
“Thanks,” she said, grateful. She could use some help, considering her arms were beginning to ache from the strain of the day. “What’s your name?”
The man paused, his hesitation palpable. Weird, Azurielle thought. Either he has severe trust issues, is socially awkward, or is a generally suspicious person.
“Opalen,” he replied after a moment while donning his mining gear. The name felt deliberate, as though he’d pulled it from the air rather than spoken it naturally.
Azurielle smiled politely, choosing not to overthink the matter. “I appreciate your help, Opalen,” she said, handing him a spare laser pick. “You can work on extracting the blocks of copper over there,” she gestured toward a jagged section of rock illuminated by faint utility lights. “I’ve already cleared the surface, but the core deposits are tougher to reach.”
Opalen nodded, adjusting the settings on the laser pick. “Got it.” He moved to the area Azurielle had pointed to, bending down to get a closer look at the ores before setting to work.
Meanwhile, Azurielle continued with her portion, focusing on extricating a chunk of slate and tossing valuable pieces in the bucket tied to Jadessia’s rope. Eventually, she gave in to her growing curiosity surrounding this random yet familiar man, deciding that a bit of small talk couldn’t hurt.
“So,” she began nonchalantly. “Are you from Cinderglow? I haven’t seen you around.”
Even with the mask on, Azurielle could sense that Opalen was pursing his lips. “Something like that,” he replied vaguely, his back still facing Azurielle. “I work here and there.”
Okaaaay, Azurielle thought warily. “I see,” she said loudly, though she did not, in fact, understand what he meant. Despite his reserved answers, Azurielle pressed on. She did not come across newcomers often, and she definitely did not mind some entertainment during her mundane labouring job. “You have family?” she asked.
Opalen paused and turned towards her momentarily, raising an eyebrow. There was something about the way he looked at her–sharp but oddly familiar, like he was studying her expression for a clue. “Family?” he echoed, his voice even but laced with something Azurielle couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Azurielle tilted her head, resting her pick against the rock. “You don’t sound too sure,” she said, half-teasing. “What’s the deal? Estranged? Scattered across Verion?”
He huffed an odd laugh, turning back to his work. “Life has a way of pulling people apart.” His voice softened slightly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “But sometimes, it pulls them back together, too.”
Azurielle blinked, caught off guard. “That’s… optimistic,” she remarked, unsure how else to respond.
“Practical,” he corrected, chipping away at some ores with deliberate precision. “The galaxy has a strange sense of humour like that.”
“Right,” Azurielle said, completely unaware of what they were even talking about at this point. Deciding that this conversation was too cryptic for her, she turned back to her work, letting the loud hums of drills and hammers fill the silence between them.
A sharp clang echoed through the site, breaking her concentration. She glanced over to see a fellow miner, a woman older than her by a few years, struggling to lift a particularly large chunk of rock from a collapsed vein. The woman’s skin had the ashen hue of slate, her cheeks carrying a faint, metallic sheen that caught the dim mining lights. Her short, dark grey, and wiry hair was highlighted with streaks of dull silver, curling slightly at the edges where sweat dampened it against her skin. Her eyes, a deep and glossy hematite, reflected the gleam of the mineral-rich ore beneath their feet, hinting at an intensity that concealed her exhaustion. Her frame was compact and muscular, built from years of wielding pickaxes and hauling debris, though her movements were slower now, wearied by decades of toil. Calloused hands bore countless scars, their rough surface proof of the unrelenting demands of life on Varnis. Her angular face seemed carved from the same rock she worked on, weathered but unbroken.
Seeing the woman stumble against the weight of the stone, Azurielle made brief eye contact with Opalen who had also paused his work and moved to help. Without a word, they stepped to the woman’s side, their actions synchronized in an unspoken understanding. “Careful,” Azurielle muttered, placing her hands near the woman’s. Opalen crouched on her side, his eyes steady as he adjusted his grip. “On three,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of resolve.
Together, they fiercely pushed the heavy rock and managed to roll it aside, revealing more lodes of raw mineral hidden beneath. The woman let out a breath of relief, wiping sweat from her dark grey brow with a grimace.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse. “These hands of mine are getting too old for this work.”
Azurielle gave a tight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She knew exactly what the woman meant. They were all getting too old.
“You’re not alone,” she replied softly, glancing at the others labouring around her. She felt the weight of their exhaustion in every movement, their lives worn thin by the grind of the mines. How much longer? she wondered, her gaze drifting upward toward the distant refinery towers. How much longer until we break?
Beside her, Opalen straightened, brushing dust from his gloves. “Things don’t have to stay this way forever,” he said quietly, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence like a spark. He kept his gaze on Azurielle, as if willing her to read between the lines.
Azurielle frowned slightly. What a strange man, she thought. “What do you mean?”
Opalen’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze–a challenge, or perhaps a promise. “I mean,” he said flatly, “sometimes, change has to be made, not waited for.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as the woman shuffled away to resume her work. Azurielle stared at him, her mind churning. But before she could question him further, he had already returned to his tools, the conversation slipping away like sand through her fingers.
For the next hour, Azurielle and Opalen continued with their mining setup, one clearing promising surfaces while the other extracted the core deposits. The silence between them was awkward and tense, questions filling the air. Weary and breathless, Azurielle eventually climbed a ladder to ground level, searching for Jadessia among the numerous workers for a short water break. She spotted her near a pile of rubble, her angular features etched with exhaustion. Jadessia’s skin had the dark metallic sheen of galena under the dim mining lights. Her short hair, a mix of gunmetal grey and silvery streaks, was plastered against her face with sweat. Jadessia’s shiny amethyst-grey eyes made contact with Azurielle’s as she made her way to her.
A flask in hand, they sat on a relatively smooth rock together, both feeling the weight of the polluted air in their lungs. Azurielle watched as Jadessia pulled her mask down slightly to take a sip of water, only for her to start wheezing uncontrollably, each breath sounding like it was being dragged through shattered rock.
“Jadessia!” Azurielle’s voice rose in alarm as she knelt beside her friend, her hands darting to the inhaler clipped to Jadessia’s belt. She pressed it into her trembling hands, steadying them. “Use this. Come on, slow breaths.”
Jadessia fumbled with the device, finally bringing it to her lips. The hiss of the medication releasing was followed by a shallow inhale, then another. Her breathing began to slow, though it still rattled faintly with each exhale. She slumped back against the rock, her face ashen and slick with sweat, her hand weakly clutching the inhaler.
“Ugh,” she muttered hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the faint hum of the mining machinery in the distance. “It’s getting worse.”
Azurielle nodded grimly, her gaze drifting toward the towering refineries on the horizon. Thick, dark smoke billowed from their chimneys, the air heavy with the tang of burning metal and chemicals. Even with their masks, the miners of Varnis couldn’t escape it. The poisoned air seeped into everything—lungs, skin, bones—wearing them down day by day.
“This place is killing us,” Azurielle said quietly, bitterness lacing her tone. “And Aurion? They don’t care. As long as they get their minerals, we’re nothing to them.”
Jadessia let out a bitter chuckle that turned into a harsh cough. “We’ve always been nothing to them,” she rasped, her mineral-bright eyes dulled with fatigue. “Not like that’s going to change.”
The faint clatter of boots against metal drew both girl’s attention. Opalen emerged from the ladder leading to the tunnels below, his gloves smeared with soot and his gear bag slung casually over one shoulder. He scanned the scene–the endless haze of dust, the hulking refinery spires looming in the distance, and the miners bent under the weight of the system.
“I got the last ten kilos,” he said when he noticed Azurielle, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. “You did the other twenty, right?”
“No, I have two kilos left,” Azurielle replied, ignoring Jadessia’s questioning look. She’d fill her in later. “Just taking a short break,” she continued. “Not that it feels like much of a break given the air’s this bad.”
“And who might you be?” Jadessia interjected, squinting her eyes as she studied Opalen.
“Name’s Opalen, apparently,” Azurielle informed her. “He offered to help out earlier–said he finished his quota for the day.”
Jadessia remained unconvinced. “Mhmm,” she observed, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across any miner who finished early enough to help someone else.”
Opalen simply shrugged.
“You must be new here,” Jadessia continued, her tone not unfriendly but cautious. “Never seen you before.”
A flicker of emotion–Disappointment? Sorrow?–appeared on his face, though it disappeared before Azurielle could get a good read into it.
“I keep to myself,” he said plainly. “But I’m happy to lend a hand where it’s needed.”
“Well, you sure did pick a good place to jump in,” Jadessia said, shaking her head with a dry laugh. “We could use more people willing to pitch in–not that it’ll change much in the end.”
The memory of Opalen’s words in the tunnel resurfaced: Sometimes, change has to be made, not waited for. Azurielle watched the man, a stranger who could not be any odder or enigmatic. The nagging feeling of familiarity returned, but with the protective mask covering his face, Azurielle could not identify him further.
“Maybe not,” Opalen said, his voice measured, eyes steady. “But even the hardest stones crack eventually. You just need to know where to strike.” That said, he picked up his gear bag and walked to the tunnel entrance once again, disappearing into the rocky ground.
Azurielle watched him go, his words hanging in the air. She exchanged a glance with Jadessia who raised a skeptical brow, clearly unimpressed by his cryptic philosophies.
“What’s his deal?” Jadessia said, shaking her head . “Comes out of nowhere, acts like he’s got all the answers, and then vanishes underground again. What are we supposed to do with that?”
Azurielle crossed her arms, still staring at the tunnel entrance. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice thoughtful. “But there’s something about him…”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re buying into his little riddles. Even the hardest stones crack,” she mocked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. “What’s next? Is he going to start preaching about hope and miracles too?”
Azurielle shook her head slowly, still mulling over his words. “No, it’s not that. It’s more like… he knows something.” She hesitated, the nagging sense of familiarity tugging at her thoughts again. “I don’t know…”
Jadessia rolled her eyes. “You’re too thoughtful for this place, Azur,” she said, laughing. “Me? I’m just trying to make it to the next shift without coughing up a lung.”
Azurielle laughed quietly, the heaviness of her thoughts easing slightly. Still, as her gaze swept over the desolate mining fields where others toiled in silence, their figures bent and broken under the weight of a system, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Opalen’s words were going to stay with her for long.
As she gathered her tools to return to work, a loud shout pierced the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of boots clanging on the steel walkway above. A figure emerged, silhouetted against the harsh glow of the mining lights—a supervisor from the central authority, no doubt. His presence was enough to make the workers flinch and adjust their posture, their shoulders slumping slightly in submission.
As he stepped into the light, his Aurion heritage was unquestionable. His skin was a muted golden hue, polished and smooth as if untouched by the grit of real labour. His crimson hair was neatly cropped, catching the light like a polished flame, and his piercing garnet-red eyes swept over the crew with a sharp, calculating precision. The lines of his uniform were crisp, its fabric pristine compared to the grimy overalls of the miners, and he moved with the practiced confidence of someone who had never known fatigue. His very posture—a straight-backed arrogance—conveyed that he didn’t need to exert authority; it radiated naturally from him, like a sun overcasting shadows.
Azurielle’s eyes narrowed. Another day, another overseer checking the numbers, she thought bitterly.
The supervisor’s voice rang out, cold and detached as he addressed the crew. “Keep it moving! The extraction quota is behind schedule. You’ve got two hours to meet it, or there will be consequences.” His eyes swept over the workers, lingering just long enough on each face to unnerve them before moving on, unfazed by their weariness. He wasn’t here to offer help or reassurance. He was here to make sure the output kept flowing to Aurion, no matter the cost.
Azurielle’s hands clenched into fists. It wasn’t the first time she had heard those words. Consequences. Everyone knew what they meant. First came the ration cuts—less food, less water, and barely enough shelter to shield against Varnis’s harsh climate. But for the more defiant, for those who dared to resist or slacken too often, the consequences were more severe. Those people disappeared. Where to, she had no idea. But she had heard stories about it from distant family and friends.
She glanced around at the others, catching their silent agreement. The fear was palpable in their tense postures and wary glances. They all understood the stakes. They had to push harder, faster, until they had nothing left to give. It was the way things were, the way things had always been.
“I have two kilos left,” Azurielle told Jadessia who needed to submit the remaining ores for processing. “Just give me twenty minutes.” She turned to the tunnel entrance, approaching the ladder. She was about to descend when she saw Opalen emerging up, bucket in hand. The rope tied to its handle swayed slightly, still looped around the pole Jadessia had tied it to at the tunnel entrance.
“Figured I’d save you the trouble,” Opalen said, handing Azurielle the bucket. It’s weight told her it was filled with the last two kilos she needed to meet her quota.
Azurielle blinked, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugged, brushing some dust off his gloves. “Better to act than to wait, don’t you think?” His steel-coloured eyes met hers briefly, and there it was again–that weight, that meaning, just beneath his casual words.
Jadessia, standing a few steps away, frowned but said nothing, her eyes flickering between the two of them.
Without another word, Opalen walked off, heading toward the far end of the site. Azurielle watched him go, confusion sizzling in her mind.
“Who is that guy, really?” Jadessia muttered, taking the bucket from Azurielle. She began emptying it into another container for processing, her hands moving methodically. Suddenly, her fingers froze mid-motion, and she frowned.
“What’s this?” she said, pulling a small, crumpled piece of paper from the bottom of the bucket. Her eyes darted to Azurielle, suspicious and curious at once.
Azurielle’s heart skipped a beat as she reached for the note, her voice low. “Let me see.”
Jadessia handed it over, her brow furrowed. “Did he leave that?”
Azurielle unfolded the note carefully. The rough handwriting was unmistakable:
Life doesn’t have to be this way.
Change is near, and you can have a say.
@ Aurion Dip, 3AM tomorrow
