Deep, deep down, buried in the depths of the mountain amidst a blackness that had not abated for half a century, something stirred. Not a beast, but something surprisingly human.
A sound issued from the deep, echoing through the empty halls that smelled of dank, and dark, and things long dead. Broken pillars littered the dust covered floor, their carvings smashed into nothingness. Even the walls were cracked like spider webs, deep crevices marring their surface. Great holes peppered the floors, leading down to mining shafts filled with uncut gemstones, and older treasures swept into the abyss and never recovered. The gold and silver that lined the walls was dimmed by soot and dust. The bellows were cold and quiet, their roar long absent from the halls. The living quarters were barren, some in chaos that had been left so long ago, others untouched save for the dust and the harsh hands of time, as if they had been left only days before. The halls stood vacant, with no sound of speech or laughter to break the heavy silence. And the throne sat broken, the seat having sat empty for many years.
But now a slouched figure occupied the seat. A shadow in the darkness, just one shade blacker than that surround him, he sat dirty, weary, and careworn, as if all the years had finally taken their toll and now weighed on him with the weight of the broken stone that towered so many stories above his head. His face was in his hands as he leaned against the crumbling arm of the chair and wept.