In the rolling hills of Thundertop, where the earth whispered ancient secrets, lived Zeroth Velkyrr—a ginger hill dwarf of seventy-three years with a beard like a wildfire and a heart captivated by the silent tales of stones. While his kin lusted after glittering gems and precious metals, Zeroth found profound beauty in the simplicity of rocks. To him, each stone was a storyteller, a keeper of the world's oldest memories. His pockets jingled not with gold but with agates, his satchel bulged with quartz, and his fellow dwarves shook their heads as he proudly declared, "Obsidian's got more spark than any diamond if ya squint right!""Zeroth, you've got rocks in your head!" they'd tease when he lingered too long at a vein of basalt.
"Aye, and a grand collection they make!" he'd laugh, patting the lumpy satchel at his hip. It was easier to lean into the jokes than explain how a humble river stone, with its scars and cracks, felt more honest than a polished gem.
One damp day—or was it night? Time blurred deep within the mines—Zeroth's pickaxe struck a cavern wall with a twang. Not the dull clunk of iron on granite, but a resonant hum that buzzed in his molars. He froze, ears twitching. Dwarven instinct told him to flee—unnatural sounds in deep places rarely ended well. But Zeroth's curiosity, as always, bulldozed caution."Well now, what're you hiding?" he murmured, chipping away until the wall crumbled. There, lodged in the rock like a fossilized egg, was a fist-sized oval stone. Smooth as glass and shimmering with veins of opal, it pulsed faintly, as if breathing.He wiped grime from its surface. "Aren't you a pretty one."The stone flared—a flash of starlight in the dark—then levitated, hovering at eye level.
Zeroth blinked. "Huh. Never seen a floating rock before."
It bobbed closer, humming a low tune.
"I guess you're coming home with me," he said, tucking it into his satchel. "Might as well name ya… Glowy."
The floating stone quickly became part of Zeroth's peculiar charm. It zipped beside him during mine inspections, nudged his ale mug at the tavern, and once "accidentally" tripped Ardric, his paladin brother, into a mud puddle."That thrice-cursed rock's haunted!" Ardric spat, plucking emeralds from his soiled beard.Zeroth shrugged, tossing Glowy like a dice. "Nah. Just frisky."
His kin sighed. If Zeroth wanted a pet rock, so be it. At least it wasn't another "quartz phase."
Weeks later, under the vaulted expanse of the underground sky, Glowy's hum sharpened to a whine. Zeroth sat by a crackling campfire, roasting a charred hare, when the stone erupted in a supernova of stardust.From the cosmic glitter emerged a spectral figure—a dwarf with a beard like a nebula and an ethereal hardhat askew on his head."BY THE HAMMERS OF MY ANCESTORS!" boomed the apparition, voice echoing like a rockslide. "I am Grimbli Stoneforge, architect extraordinaire of the Nexus! Who dares disturb my eternal slumber?!"
Zeroth scratched his beard, unfazed. "So you're the one making Glowy float around.""Glowy?!" Grimbli attempted to facepalm, his ghostly hand phasing through his skull. "How, in the cavernous deep, did you not question a SENTIENT, LEVITATING STONE?!"
"I tend not to question things I don't understand," Zeroth replied, poking the spectral dwarf's shimmering elbow. "Like why your hat's got a tiny pickaxe on it."
Grimbli groaned, stirring the campfire's flames with his breath. "Once, I crafted pillars that touched the sky. Now I'm bound to a rock collector who names artifacts 'Glowy.'""Better than being stuck in a wall," Zeroth said, grinning. "Besides, I'm headed to find something real fancy. Legends say there's an axe in Silvercrest—"
"The Flaming Berserker?!" Grimbli's eyes flared. "You lumbering fool! That axe is cursed with a god's fury! It's not a trinket for your collection!"
Zeroth stood, dusting ash from his trousers. "I'll be the judge of that. You coming, Glowy's Ghost?""IT'S GRIMBLI!"
"Sure thing, Grumbly."
With Grimbli retreating into the stone—now hovering like a disgruntled firefly—Zeroth shouldered his pack, hefted his pickaxe, and ventured into the cave's yawning mouth.The tunnels swallowed them whole.Ancient dwarven runes scarred the walls, their glyphs worn smooth by time. Zeroth traced them absently as they walked, his calloused fingers brushing over stories of forgotten kings. "This one's 'beware the hungering dark,'" he mused, squinting at a serpentine carving. "Or maybe 'don't eat the mushrooms.' Hard to say."Grimbli's voice crackled from the stone. "Focus, you oaf. These are warnings, not tavern specials.""Warnings, schmarnings," Zeroth chuckled. "Nothing here but dust and—"
The torch sputtered, its flame shrinking to a blue ember. A frigid breath slithered down the tunnel, raising gooseflesh beneath Zeroth's beard."Told you," Grimbli muttered.
Darkness smothered them. Zeroth's breath hitched—not from fear, but awe—as Glowy's hum sharpened, its soft glow swelling to a celestial radiance. The stone illuminated veins of quartz in the walls, their crystals winking like trapped stars."Handy thing, you are," Zeroth murmured, squinting at the sudden light."Don't. Mention. It," Grimbli grumbled, each word tighter than a rusted gear.
They pressed on, guided by Glowy's glow and Zeroth's stubbornness, until the tunnel spat them into a cavern so vast its ceiling vanished into shadow. The air tasted of char and iron, as if the mountain itself had bled here.In the center stood a pedestal of black basalt, its surface etched with runes that writhed under Glowy's light. Upon it lay the Flaming Berserker—a battle-axe forged in a language older than dwarves. Its blade drank the light, yet veins of molten fire pulsed beneath, like magma trapped in obsidian. The edge flickered with ghostly flames, whispering of infernos restrained.Zeroth's boots crunched over bones. Dozens of skeletons littered the chamber, their armor rusted to dust."Turn back," Grimbli hissed. "This is a tomb, not a treasury."
"Nah," Zeroth said, stepping over a skull. "They just weren't smart enough to survive."
He approached the axe, Glowy's hum warping into a mournful dirge. The Berserker's flames surged, painting his face in hellish gold."Last chance, stone-monger," Grimbli pleaded. "That axe isn't a trophy—it's a prison."Zeroth grinned. "Good thing I've got a cellmate."
His hand closed around the haft.The chamber trembled as the axe's flames erupted, devouring the shadows. Zeroth's veins lit like fuse wires, burning from within—yet it didn't hurt. It thrummed. Power, raw and ravenous, flooded his muscles, his bones, his blood. The Berserker's voice scraped his mind: MINE.Zeroth tightened his grip. "Nope. Ours."The axe shuddered, flames dimming to smoldering embers. For now."By the ancestors," Grimbli whispered. "What have you done?"Zeroth hefted the axe, testing its weight. "Made a new friend, I think."
"Power is a beast more untamed than the wildest dragon," Grimbli cautioned. "It will promise you the stars only to leave you scorched. Heed the whispers of the axe, for within them lie the remnants of a god's rage."Zeroth closed his eyes briefly, steadying himself. "I understand," he murmured. "I will not let it control me."He swung the axe experimentally. Flames arced through the air, illuminating the chamber in a blaze of light. The raw power was exhilarating but also daunting."Save the pyrotechnics for the surface," Grimbli snapped. "Unless you want to collapse the mountain on us both."Zeroth grinned, extinguishing the flames with a reluctant flick of his wrist. "You're no fun, Glowy's Ghost."With the axe resting across his shoulders and the floating stone casting its gentle glow, Zeroth ascended through the tunnels. The Berserker's heat warmed his back, a constant, uneasy reminder of the entity within."Tell me, Grimbli," Zeroth began, crunching over gravel, "what drove you to be stuck in that stone?"Grimbli seemed taken aback. "Pride. Ambition. Pissing off the gods."Zeroth chuckled. "Wow. Sounds like you royally screwed up.""Something like that," Grimbli grumbled.They emerged into the crisp night air, the Silvercrest Mountains looming behind them like slumbering giants. Below, nestled in a pine-ringed clearing, smoldering embers of a campfire pulsed faintly. Zeroth's boots crunched over pine needles as he approached. Three bedrolls lay scattered around the firepit—one haphazardly unrolled (his), one meticulously arranged, and a third buried under a pile of gears and parchment. A half-eaten wheel of cheese sat abandoned on a log."Home sweet camp," Zeroth muttered, collapsing onto his bedroll. The Berserker clattered to the ground beside him, its flames dimming to coals.Grimbli's voice softened. "You trust them? These… companions of yours?"Zeroth yawned, staring at the stars. "With my life."
"Let's hope that's not what it costs," the ghost sighed, retreating into his stone.
Somewhere in the trees, an owl hooted. Zeroth's eyelids drooped, the axe's whispers fading into the rustle of leaves.