In the dimly lit expanse of the underground village, Lassim and Sanvra Yathrin sat apart from the quiet buzz of the Drow community, their conversation stretching into several hours as they pondered together.
The surrounding Drow had retreated to their dwellings, leaving the cavernous space echoing with the occasional drip of condensed moisture from the stone ceiling as their conversation continued.
Lassim, still grappling with the weakness that clung to him from having his mana drained, shifted uncomfortably on the rough ground.
He cleared his throat, his voice low, "[Sanvra, could I have more of that leaf water? It seemed to help earlier.]" The lack of mana accessible to him in the air left him drained, unable to tap into it and restore his strength.
Both Zaphy and Mari had gone unresponsive, dormant within his inner heart world. With nearly no mana left to sustain them, he felt an unusual solitude pressing in on him.
Sanvra nodded as she signaled to a nearby attendant. Moments later, a clay pitcher filled with the same aromatic, leaf-infused water was placed before him.
Lassim refilled his skull cup and took a deep drink, feeling a slight rejuvenation as the liquid coursed through him, easing the persistent ache in his muscles and mana veins once again.
As he set the skull down, his stomach growled audibly, a reminder of his physical needs that had been overshadowed by his back to back turmoil and traumatic events.
"[Ah sorry about that…]" he replied shyly as he covered his stomach, glancing at Sanvra in slight embarrassment. "[Uh, so… What do you all eat here? I didn’t see anything except snow, trees and skeletons on the surface.]"
Sanvra sighed, her expression turning somber. "[Food is scarce]," she admitted. "[The creatures that dwell here are as you described—almost non-existent. The ones that do still thrive are agile, dangerous, and always hungry. We live in a delicate balance where we are each other’s prey. We eat them, and they eat us if given the opportunity.
You were discovered by one of our hunter packs that searches for these creatures to sustain the train. Our meals are mostly made of the dried meats of those few creatures we can catch, but we also can use the heated ground and moisture to grow some types of fauna underground. We produce a type of moss food protein and the tea leaves you consumed earlier.]"
Curiosity piqued despite his fatigue, Lassim then remembered the provisions he had packed for his journey—items that now seemed extravagantly abundant in comparison to the Drow’s meager rations.
He controlled what little specks of mana he had left to rummage through his whale-hide magic pouch, pulling out several sealed packets of dried fruits, nuts, and jerky. "[Maybe we can trade? What if what I need to ’absorb’ is one of your food sources? I have some food from my world that I can offer in return so your people don’t go hungry in my place.
It might be really different from what you’re used to, but I’ve stocked up on quite a lot of it. I have enough dried foods for myself for about a year and then some, but I’m sure we could stretch it if I can find a way to help you hunt for food as well.]"
Sanvra’s eyes widened with interest as she examined the food Lassim laid out.
The novelty of such items in their realm was clear, and a murmur of excitement rippled through the few Drow still lingering nearby. "[This is generous, Lassim,]" she said, her voice tinged with gratitude. "[Your food will be a welcomed change for many here.]"
They agreed to share the provisions Lassim offered, and in exchange, Sanvra introduced him to a variety of their stored meats—tough and gamey, but nourishing.
As they ate, Lassim contemplated his earlier thoughts about absorption. "[Well… I don’t feel any different… Maybe what I need to absorb isn’t something as literal as food. That was probably too simple of an idea. Could it be knowledge? Perhaps understanding your techniques or battle arts better will help me figure out what that voice meant.]"
Sanvra nodded thoughtfully. "[It’s possible]," she mused poetically, "[Our realm is indeed different from yours. Learning our ways, our struggles, might reveal paths something to your eyes that are unaccustomed to our night.]"
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As they talked and ate, Lassim felt a connection forming. With each story Sanvra shared about the Drow’s past, their gods, and their battles with the realm’s corruption, Lassim felt a deepening sense of purpose. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something here.
The last remnants of their shared meal were cleared away with some of the remaining snacks and dried meats given to the bystanders still watching Lassim’s every move.
Sanvra Yathrin then delved deeper into the capabilities that defined the Drow’s abilities and battle arts next.
The flicker of torchlight played off the cavern walls, casting a dance of shadows along the floors and walls.
"[Since it is most likely not food, as you’ve seen a glimpse of what sustains us here]," Sanvra began, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious cavern. "[Let us move beyond mere survival. Born through our markings at birth, some among us wield the rare ability to manipulate the fabric of space itself—a skill deep within us from our connection with Khaalseru’s lineage.]"
Intrigued, Lassim leaned forward, his fatigue momentarily forgotten in his curiosity.
At Sanvra’s nod, one of her priestess companions—a slender figure cloaked in shadows—stepped forward.
With a graceful gesture and no visible effort, she vanished from sight, only to reappear several meters away within a heartbeat, then seamlessly returned to her original spot. The display was both effortless and mind boggling to Lassim.
"[That’s incredible]," Lassim exclaimed, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and a hint of envy. "[What an amazing ability to have. I’ve seen somewhat similar power by Night elementalist spirit warriors where I’m from, but they must rely on the shadows entirely to move about. They’re limited in where and what they can do without them to an extent, but this is completely different.]"
Sanvra smiled faintly, acknowledging his praise. "[It is a rare gift]," she agreed, "[and a dangerous one. The ability to bend space is fraught with risks, especially here, where the fabric of our plane is so heavily corrupted and fraying at the edges. Should she try to manipulate the fabric while being near the edges of the realm, she may find herself folded between the layers.
It’s dangerous, but it offers us essential advantages in our survival.]"
Lassim’s mind raced with possibilities, but a more pressing concern dampened his enthusiasm. "[I’d love to learn more, maybe even try to see if I could learn this myself with your help]," he ventured cautiously, "[but I can’t even access the mana here. It’s like I’m cut off from the very source that could sustain me. How can I even replenish myself first?]"
Sanvra considered this, her gaze thoughtful as she assessed Lassim’s earnest desire to connect with their realm’s forces. "[Though doubtful you’ll be able to gain our ability to manipulate the fabric without the natural gift markings, certainly try. However, the corruption that permeates our realm does more than just taint—it isolates us]," she explained.
"[There could be many a reason why you are unable to access it. It may be preventing you from accessing the mana because you are an outsider, not attuned to the unique energies of this place or something else entirely.]"
A plan began to form in Sanvra’s mind, inspired by Lassim’s determination and her own deep knowledge of their land’s lore. "[Perhaps there is a way to bridge this gap]," she mused aloud. "[Let us see if I can watch your interaction with the mana and try to aid you. I may be able to provide a guiding hand to coax the mana into your control.]"
"Let’s do it," he decided, his voice firm with resolve. "If there’s a chance it can help me connect, then it’s worth a shot. If I can access the mana again then it’ll give me the edge I need to help you and your people; possibly."
Sanvra nodded, "We will prepare carefully," she promised. "Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we begin the preparations when I’ve been able to rest. We’ve been talking for hours and I am growing weak. Be ready for tomorrow, my star."
As the cavern around them settled into a quiet hum of the endless night’s activities, Lassim was escorted to a hovel where there laid a small ground bedding and blankets for him to rest on.
Laying down, he felt the weight of what lay ahead in this unknown land and the weight of his exhaustion fully coming to rest on his body.
His determination solidified; this was not just about survival or escaping now, but about making a real difference in a plane with a race of people that could truly use his help.