I follow the armored bow-wielder into a small passage on the other side of the great, dilapidated passageway. The cavernous shadows pull back reluctantly from the light of my flickering torch.

I should have said no. I should have just left the woman alone, but there was just too much to gain. She could have food... or supplies... or knowledge of how to get out of this place. There is another reason why I want to follow her, but I don't know how to describe it. Somehow, the sight of the fireflies in her eyes was... beautiful. I want to see the glowing creatures again, to watch them flit around, to watch them coalesce with each utterance that slides from my tongue...

I just hope that those fireflies aren't what I think they are.

I want so much to believe that my newfound power isn't real. If I let it sink in that I am capable of controlling minds, I know that knowledge will change me.

...for the better.

A tiny voice echoes inside of me, a piece of my consciousness I have tried so hard to suppress over the many years of my life. It cries for freedom, for happiness, for greatness. It wants me to climb above the mundane, crowded rat's nest that is humanity. It offers me the missing piece of truth that I have always yearned for.

...but I know it's wrong. Why would I ever think those things?

"Here we go," the girl announces as she pushes aside a wooden pallet, revealing a dreamy red glow beneath the shadows. She walks inside.

I follow her into the same passageway... or should I say room. What is this place? There are flaming furnaces along the wall... and chests and workbenches... and what is that rolled-up sack hanging on the back wall, with fabric draped over it? Is that a sleeping bag?

"Is there a problem?" She asks, looking back at me.

"No, I'm fine."

"You seem a bit surprised at my standard of living."

"That's not at all what I was thinking... wait, you actually live down here?"

"I guess you wouldn't expect that, since it's underground and it smells like sewage," she notes in a relatively monotone voice.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I was just–"

"It's fine. I can tell you're not from around here."

That stung. I don't like being called a clueless foreigner.

The Book interrupts my stream of thought, "Fristad, focus! Do you realize the gravity of this situation? Every second you wear that enchanted armor, Dan comes closer to finding you. The armor must be destroyed."

Are you crazy? I can't destroy this armor; it is irreplaceable! There has to be some other way...

"The alternative is that Dan finds you and imprisons you, so that he may torment you with his spells as he pleases. Surely you do not want this?"

I can't let him do that again. I've already tried so hard to escape... but I don't want to burn in the sunlight, either.

"Hey, would you mind turning over some coals in the furnace right next to you?" The girl asks as she reaches into a live furnace with her blade.

"Umm... no problem," I reply, groggy and half-aware.

"What perfect timing," the Book remarks. "You can dispose of your armor in the furnace."

There's no way I'm going to do that.

"You must do it."

The heat of the furnace nips threateningly at my approaching hand. I turn the furnace door's rusted knob, and the door swings open, revealing white-tongued flames dancing among glowing coals. On the shelf above them is an orange-tinged, molten metal, thick like magma, its shape jittering beneath the smoke.

I turn towards the black stake hanging on the back wall. I lift my foot, but I feel my body hesitate. An urgent need floods my muscles. A familiar sensation overcomes me, the restlessness of a waking dream. I recall standing in front of the crafting bench, watching the bone and leather coalesce into boots. I hated crafting that armor, but then I learned to love it. Now the Book is taking it away from me.

I feel hard stone beneath my sweaty feet. I watch my beloved boots curl and blacken within the flames. My fingers crawl underneath the straps of my helmet. My arms release it like a catapult. Next goes the chestpiece...

"What in the Nether are you doing?" The girl kicks the furnace shut and stands in front of me. "That was perfectly good armor."

"Exactly!"

"If you knew it was so valuable, then why did you burn it?"

"I don't know..." or maybe I do. Somehow my mind feels clearer now, as if some draining influence on my mind has been lifted. "Actually, I think the armor may have been cursed."

"What do you mean, 'cursed'?"

"Cursed like in that one story... I forget what it's called. Thieves keep sneaking into a dungeon to find some priceless amulet, but none of them make it out alive."

"I don't know what that story is, but I'm pretty sure your armor isn't cursed. Look, if you really don't want your armor, can you at least let me have what's left of it?"

"Trust me, you don't want this armor," I insist.

"Why not? It's enchanted, right?"

"Well, the problem with the enchantment is that..." I cut myself short. I can't tell her about the skeleton transformation, or she might want to kill me again.

"What enchantment is it?" Her brow furrows with worry.

"Knockback."

An awkward minute of silence passes. Then the girl's eyes widen.

"Okay, I don't want it," she mutters rapidly. She steps aside. "If it's really cursed, then you should get rid of it. I'm sorry; I have trust issues."

"I've noticed."

I swing open the furnace door and throw my chestpiece onto the hot coals. Gosh, am I glad to be rid of that stuffy armor. I unstrap my leg armor and throw it on top of the chestpiece. The mass of leather and bone shrinks and blackens as the fire consumes them. Then, out of nowhere, white smoke rises up from beneath the coals, and the blackened mass sinks into it just like a slain mob sinks into the earth.

I lift my brows in surprise. "I did not expect that." That was a bit creepy.

"Expect what? What happened?"

"The armor disappeared in a cloud of white smoke. It's completely gone. See for yourself." I step back.

The armored girl kneels down in front of the furnace and peers inside. "Yeeep. Definitely cursed." She sifts through the coals with her sword. "Where the heck did it goo...? Ooooo..." She makes spooky ghost sounds.

"Hopefully into the void, where it will never be seen again."

"No, it most likely went into the Red Aether."

"What's that?"

"It's the place where dead things go. It's also the place where miners store all of their junk."

"That's interesting. I wonder why I've never heard of it before."

The girl swings the furnace closed. "That's because you're not a miner." She smirks, leaning against the furnace as she sits down.

"And I'm guessing you are a miner?"

"Ex-miner," she corrects me.

"Why aren't you a miner anymore?"

She crosses her arms and legs. "I'm not much of a miner without my crew. Most of my crew died in a cave-in three years back. After that, everyone moved on. It just wasn't the same."

"That's awful. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. They were miners, after all. They respawned with their memories intact... well, almost."

"Why then did everyone leave if they still had their memories?"

"It was a huge setback. We lost a lot of resources. It wasn't the first time we had a cave-in, either. Zomem's ancient tunnels are so unstable. Even the deepest caves can feel the strain of their collapse. At some point, everyone decided the payout wasn't worth it."

"Why did you stay, then?"

"There has to be something in these ruins worth searching for. Priceless artifacts, maybe. The best part is that if I find them, I don't have to share the profits."

"So you work alone?"

"You bet."

She's... alone. She's vulnerable. I could influence her to do my bidding, and no one would be the wiser. Sure, she's a miner, but even a miner couldn't resist the silver fire of the void. It's the perfect experiment.