In the rolling hills of Thundertop, where the earth itself seemed to whisper ancient secrets, lived Zeroth Velkyrr. Seventy-three years young, even for a hill dwarf, he sported a beard like wildfire and carried a heart uniquely enchanted by the silent tales of stone. While his kin chased the glittering allure of gems and precious metals, Zeroth found profound beauty in the humble rocks beneath his boots. To him, each stone was a storyteller, a keeper of the world's oldest memories, patiently waiting to be heard. His pockets jingled not with gold, but with smooth agates and cloudy quartz, and his calloused fingers often traced veins of granite as tenderly as others might caress silk. Lately, even the granite seemed restless, faint tremors running through the deep tunnels that were dismissed by most as the hills settling, but Zeroth felt a discordant note in the stone's usual hum.
"Zeroth, you've got rocks in your head!" his kin would tease when he lingered too long at a vein of dark basalt, lost in contemplation.
"Aye, and a grand collection they make!" he'd laugh, patting the lumpy leather satchel at his hip, its contents far more precious to him than any king's ransom. It was easier to lean into the jokes than to explain how a weathered river stone, scarred and cracked by time and water, felt rarer and held more truth than the most flawless diamond.
One trip deep, in winding tunnels far below the surface where the air grew thick and tasted of dust and ages, Zeroth's pickaxe struck something… unusual. It wasn't the familiar dull clunk of iron biting into granite, nor the sharp chink of hitting quartz. This was a hum, a deep, resonant vibration that travelled up the pickaxe handle and settled deep within his bones, making his teeth buzz. He froze, ears twitching beneath his messy ginger hair. Dwarven instinct screamed caution; unnatural sounds in the deep dark rarely heralded good fortune. But Zeroth's insatiable curiosity, the same drive that made him cherish stones over gold, bulldozed any hesitation.
"Well now, what're you hidin'?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper in the oppressive silence.
He probed the rock face gently, tapping around the source of the hum. The stone felt… resistant, almost alive. He swung again, aiming beside the initial strike point, chipping away rock cautiously. The hum intensified with each strike, growing from a low thrum to a palpable vibration that seemed to make the very air shiver. Finally, with a sharp crack, a section of the wall crumbled inward, revealing a small cavity. Embedded within the raw stone, nestled like a geode's hidden heart, was a stone unlike any he'd ever laid eyes upon. It was smooth, almost perfectly spherical, and pulsed with a soft, internal light. As Zeroth reached out, brushing away clinging dust, the stone flared brilliantly, the light momentarily blinding him. When his vision cleared, the stone wasn't embedded anymore. It floated gently in the air before him, bobbing slightly, humming a soft, melodic tune that resonated strangely with the earlier vibration.
Zeroth blinked, utterly bewildered. "Huh." He scratched his fiery beard, gears turning slowly. "Never seen a floating rock before." He cautiously extended a hand. The stone drifted closer, nudging his fingers like an inquisitive pet. "Friendly, aren't ya?"
A slow grin spread across his face. "Well, I guess you're coming home with me," he decided, carefully slipping the warm, humming sphere into his satchel amongst his other treasures. "Might as well name ya… Glowy."
Over the next few weeks, Glowy became an accepted, if bizarre, part of Zeroth's peculiar charm back in the upper levels of Thundertop. The small stone hovered faithfully alongside him during his increasingly frequent trips into the deeper mines, occasionally nudged his unattended ale mug at the tavern closer to his hand, and, most memorably, executed a perfectly timed hover-trip maneuver that sent Ardric, his stern paladin brother, face-first into a particularly deep mud puddle during a surface errand. Zeroth still chuckled remembering the sheer, sputtering rage on Ardric's face.
"That thrice-cursed rock's haunted!" Ardric had spat, meticulously plucking dirt and stones from his beard.
"Nah," Zeroth had shrugged, casually tossing Glowy up and catching it, the stone humming contentedly in his palm. "Just frisky." He ignored the way Glowy seemed to subtly shift its glow, almost like a suppressed chuckle. What could he say? He liked the little rock.
His deeper explorations continued, drawn by an inexplicable pull, Glowy always humming softly at his side. Weeks turned into a month, then two. They delved into tunnels barely remembered in dwarven lore, passages marked with runes so ancient their meanings were debated even by the loremasters. Zeroth often found himself tracing these symbols, deciphering warnings he only half-believed.
Then, one night, camped in a vast cavern miles below the Silvercrest Mountains, beneath a vaulted expanse that felt like an underground sky, Glowy's gentle hum suddenly sharpened. It escalated rapidly into a piercing, high-pitched whine that vibrated through Zeroth's very soul. He looked up from the crackling campfire, startled, just as the stone erupted. Not with noise, but with light that was a silent, brilliant supernova of shimmering stardust that filled the cavern with cosmic glitter. From the heart of the fading spectacle emerged a spectral dwarf, wispy and translucent. His beard wasn't hair, but a swirling nebula of purples and blues, dotted with points of light like distant stars. A ridiculously askew, equally translucent hardhat perched precariously atop his spectral head.
"BY THE HAMMERS OF MY ANCESTORS!" the apparition boomed, his voice echoing like colliding mountains. "I AM GRIMBLI STONEFORGE, ARCHITECT EXTRAORDINAIRE OF THE NEXUS! WHO DARES DISTURB MY ETERNAL SLUMBER?!"
Zeroth, momentarily stunned but rarely truly fazed, slowly lowered the piece of dried meat he'd been about to eat. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "So… you're the one making Glowy float around."
"GLOWY?!" Grimbli roared, attempting to facepalm, only for his ethereal hand to pass straight through his shimmering skull. He groaned, a sound like distant thunder. "How, in the cavernous, unplumbed deep, did you find a sentient, levitating stone… and never once question it?!"
Zeroth shrugged, taking a bite of his jerky. "Didn't seem important at the time. Was busy looking at rocks."
Grimbli let out another groan, stirring the campfire flames with a ghostly sigh that somehow carried the scent of stardust and ozone. "Once, I crafted pillars that touched the heavens and carved runes that bound realities. Now… now I am bound to a dwarf who collects pebbles and names cosmic relics 'Glowy.'"
"Better than being stuck in a wall for centuries, I reckon," Zeroth retorted, grinning around his mouthful. "Besides, I'm headed someplace special. Legends whisper of an axe hidden here deep in the Silvercrest range—"
"The Flaming Berserker Battle Axe?!" Grimbli's spectral eyes flared with sudden, intense light, the nebula of his beard swirling violently. "You lumbering, rock-headed fool! That axe isn't some trinket for your collection! It's cursed! Imbued with the rage of a forgotten god! It consumes souls!"
Zeroth finished his jerky and stood, dusting ash from his sturdy trousers. He hefted his own worn pickaxe, its familiar weight a comfort. "I'll be the judge of that. Sounds like a rare find to me." He winked at the sputtering apparition. "You coming, Glowy's Ghost?"
"IT'S GRIMBLI! AND I CAN'T BELIEVE—!"
"Sure thing, Grumbly," Zeroth interrupted cheerfully, stomping out the campfire embers with a heavy boot.
With a final, exasperated groan that sounded suspiciously like grinding stone, Grimbli retreated back into the humming sphere, which now hovered beside Zeroth like an irritated, glowing firefly. Zeroth shouldered his pack, the weight of his usual collection of rocks strangely heavier now, and ventured into the tunnel's yawning mouth. Ancient dwarven runes, older than any he'd seen before, lined the walls, illuminating their path with a faint, otherworldly blue glow. Each step echoed softly, muffled by the immense depth, carrying them deeper into the mountain's heart. The darkness pressed in, thick and absolute beyond the runelight. Zeroth traced the worn runes absently as he walked, his calloused fingers brushing reverently over faded stories lost to time, his rock-lover's heart captivated despite Grimbli's agitated humming. He paused, squinting at a particularly complex serpentine carving, its lines faded and cracked.
"This one says, 'Beware the hungering dark beneath the stone,'" he mused aloud, brows knitted thoughtfully. "Or maybe… 'Don't eat the glowing mushrooms.' Hard to say, really. Script's ancient."
Grimbli's exasperated voice crackled sharply from the stone beside his ear. "Focus, you oaf! These are ancestral warnings, not tavern menus! We're nearing something powerful, something dangerous!"
"Warnings, schmarnings," Zeroth chuckled, though a prickle of unease ran down his spine. The air here felt… heavy. Still. "Nothing down here we haven't seen before. Just dust and echoes and—"
The runelight along the walls sputtered violently. The steady, ancient blue glow flickered, shrinking to cold, unnatural embers that barely pierced the oppressive darkness. A frigid breath, utterly devoid of moisture, slithered down the tunnel, raising goosebumps beneath Zeroth's thick beard and extinguishing the embers completely. Utter blackness surged in around them.
"Told you," Grimbli muttered sourly from the stone, his voice tight with apprehension.
Zeroth's breath caught, not entirely from fear, but from a sudden, overwhelming awe. As the last runelight died, Glowy—Grimbli's stone—pulsed. Its soft hum intensified sharply, resonating in Zeroth's chest, and its gentle glow swelled rapidly into a sphere of celestial brilliance. The radiant light, far brighter than before, blasted away the gloom, illuminating the tunnel walls in stark relief. Veins of raw quartz, embedded deep within the granite, flared under the stone's light, revealing intricate, swirling patterns of runes Zeroth hadn't noticed before, glowing with latent power.
"Handy little pebble, aren't you?" Zeroth murmured, blinking against the sudden, intense brightness, grateful despite himself.
"Don't. Mention. It," Grimbli growled, each word sounding like a rusty gear grinding reluctantly into motion within the stone.
Guided now by Grimbli's reluctant, shimmering radiance and Zeroth's stubborn determination, they pressed deeper. The tunnel began to slope downward more steeply, the air growing thick with the scent of char, old iron, and something else… something metallic and vaguely like ozone. Finally, the narrow passage abruptly opened into an immense cavern. Its ceiling soared into shadowy heights, lost to sight far above. The air was heavy, stagnant, tasting of burnt metal, as though the mountain itself had once bled fire here. At the cavern's heart, stark against the gloom, loomed a pedestal carved from flawless, light-absorbing obsidian. It was etched with runes that seemed to twist and writhe like living serpents in the pulsating light radiating from Grimbli's stone.
And atop it rested the Flaming Berserker Battle Axe.
It was larger than Zeroth had imagined, a brutal, double-bitted weapon forged from the same obsidian as the pedestal. The metal seemed to drink the surrounding light, leaving only veins of molten fire that pulsed rhythmically through the black, obsidian-like blade, like a dark heart beating with contained fury. The blade's edge flickered with phantom flames, ethereal tongues of red and orange fire that seemed to reach out, reacting to their presence, hungry. Zeroth let out a slow, shaky breath, the sheer presence of the axe hitting him like a physical blow. Only then did he truly take in the cavern floor. It was littered, carpeted, with the grim remains of those who had come before. Skeletons lay tangled amidst rusted armor and shattered weapons, stark white against the dark stone. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, marked the countless failed attempts to claim the weapon. The silence was profound, broken only by the faint crackle of the axe's phantom flames and Grimbli's low, anxious hum.
Zeroth took a step forward, trying not to cringe as ancient bone crunched sickeningly under his heavy boot. He took another step, then another, his gaze fixed on the axe, drawn by its terrible beauty. He was barely halfway across the bone-strewn floor when Grimbli zipped around him, the stone hovering directly in his face, radiating desperate urgency.
"Turn back, you fool!" Grimbli hissed, his voice strained. "This is a tomb, not a treasury! Look around you! This weapon destroys those who seek it!"
"Nah," Zeroth replied, his voice surprisingly steady, though his heart hammered against his ribs. He nudged aside a horned helmet with his foot, revealing the bleached skull beneath. "Something's telling me they just weren't the right choice. Too greedy, maybe. Or just not stubborn enough."
He stepped past the hovering stone, approaching the obsidian pedestal cautiously. Grimbli's hum deepened into a mournful, resonant dirge as the Berserker's phantom flames surged higher, bathing Zeroth's face in a shifting, hellish glow.
"Last chance, lad," Grimbli pleaded, his voice barely a whisper now. "Don't do this. Please."
Zeroth offered a small, tight smile, a mix of defiance and exhilaration. He ignored his spectral friend. As he took the final few steps, the ethereal flames along the axe's edge began to arc towards him, thin tendrils of fire reaching out, almost… welcomingly. They seemed to dance in the air, begging him to grasp the hilt, to accept their power.
Without further hesitation, Zeroth reached out and grasped the obsidian hilt.
Agony, white-hot and absolute, slammed through him. It felt as if his very veins had ignited, molten fire replacing blood, searing him from the inside out. He gasped, collapsing to his knees, his vision blurring as the cavern spun around him. Yet, beneath the overwhelming pain, there was something else – a thrilling pulse of raw, primal strength, older than mountains, fiercer than any forge. It flooded him, overwhelming his senses, threatening to drown his very consciousness.
Then, a voice, ancient and possessive, snarled directly within his mind, echoing in the deepest parts of his being: MINE.
Zeroth gritted his teeth against the pain, against the invasive presence. He tightened his grip on the hilt, sheer dwarven stubbornness battling against the overwhelming force. "Nope," he gasped out loud, forcing the word through clenched teeth, his voice raspy but defiant. He focused his will, pouring every ounce of his identity, his love for stone, his connection to the earth, into a single, silent assertion. "Ours."
The axe trembled violently in his grasp. The phantom flames flared wildly for a moment, then abruptly dwindled, shrinking back to mere embers flickering along the blade's edge. The searing pain subsided, leaving behind a deep, resonant heat that pulsed in time with his own heartbeat. Slowly, shakily, Zeroth pushed himself back to his feet, the formidable weight of the axe feeling strangely natural in his hands.
"By the very foundations of the world," Grimbli whispered from the stone, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and utter horror. "What… what have you done?"
Zeroth hefted the axe, testing its balance. A low chuckle escaped him, rough and breathless. "Not a damn clue," he admitted, a wide, slightly manic grin spreading across his face. "But whatever it is… this feels amazing."
Grimbli's tone darkened instantly, sharp with dire warning. "Power is a beast more untamed than the wildest dragon, Zeroth! It promises the stars but often leaves only ash. Heed the whispers of that axe, for within its fire lie the fractured remnants of a god's ancient rage. It will try to consume you."
Zeroth steadied himself, closing his eyes briefly, feeling the thrumming power now bound to him. "I understand," he murmured softly, though the thrill still sang in his blood. "I won't let it control me."
He swung the axe experimentally, a slow, deliberate arc. Flames, real this time, roared from the blade, arcing brilliantly through the vast chamber, casting fierce, dancing shadows across the ancient walls and the silent skeletons. The sensation was intoxicating, exhilarating, and deeply unsettling all at once.
"Save the pyrotechnics for the surface unless you wish to bury us both under half a mountain!" Grimbli snapped anxiously, the stone darting nervously around Zeroth's head.
Zeroth smirked, willing the flames to extinguish, drawing them back into the obsidian blade until only the faint embers remained. "You're no fun, Grumbly." He shouldered the axe carefully; its latent heat radiated against his back, an ever-present, unsettling reminder of the power – and the entity – he now carried. "Now, let's get out of this charnel house and get some rest. I'm sure my companions are getting mighty tired of these mountains by now."
With Grimbli's stone casting a nervous, flickering light before them, Zeroth began the steady climb upward through the winding tunnels, leaving the silent cavern and its grim history behind.
"So," Zeroth asked casually after a while, his boots crunching rhythmically over loose stones, the heavy axe a constant presence. "What exactly did you do to end up trapped in that little rock, Grimbli? You mentioned pissing off the gods."
Grimbli hesitated, the spectral dwarf's voice quieter within the stone, tinged with old regret. "Pride," he admitted softly. "Ambition that outstripped my wisdom. And, well… yes. Pissing off the gods rather spectacularly."
Zeroth chuckled dryly. "Sounds like you royally screwed up. Care to elaborate on the spectacular part?"
"Aye, I screwed up," Grimbli grumbled, his earlier exasperation returning. "And no, now really isn't the time for that particular tale. Let's just focus on getting out of this mountain in one piece, shall we?"
Zeroth shrugged, letting it drop for now. They soon emerged from the tunnel mouth beneath a vast, star-strewn sky, the majestic peaks of the Silvercrest Mountains looming like silent sentinels behind them. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the stagnant depths. Zeroth's boots crushed fragrant pine needles as he approached the familiar, welcoming glow of smoldering embers within a small clearing. Three bedrolls lay scattered around the firepit: his own, unrolled haphazardly as always; another, meticulously arranged beside a neatly stacked pile of gleaming paladin armor and a longsword; and a third, almost hidden beneath a tangle of dark cloaks with a sheathed yklwa. A half-eaten wheel of hard cheese sat forgotten atop a log, testament to a hasty departure.
"Home sweet camp," Zeroth sighed, relief washing over him as he collapsed onto his rumpled bedroll, immediately snatching the cheese. The Flaming Berserker Battle Axe clattered heavily onto the ground beside him, its dark surface still radiating a subtle, unnerving warmth.
"You trust these companions of yours?" Grimbli's voice softened from the stone, carrying a rare note of sincerity. "With the power you now wield…"
Zeroth yawned, chewing thoughtfully on the cheese as he stared up at the endless diamond-scattered sky. "With my life," he affirmed without hesitation.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," the ghost sighed, the stone settling quietly onto the bedroll near Zeroth's hip, its light dimming to a soft, sleepy pulse.
Somewhere in the distant, dark trees, an owl hooted softly, a lonely sound in the vast wilderness. Zeroth's eyelids grew heavy, the whispers of the night blending gently with the rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of a mountain stream. Sleep claimed him swiftly, pulling him down into dreams that flickered with fire and echoed with ancient rage.