Into The Depths - Part 1 (Novella)

Here is an ongoing story I have been writing for the last month or so. Currently, there are four chapters written, and this one here is the start of the fifth.

It started before November and was enjoying the story and characters, so decided to try and complete it as part of NaNoWriMo, but, here we are in December and I'm still working on it.

Currently, I have a feeling the Eighth chapter will be the final one, however, it could go on a bit longer than that, based on how the story concludes.

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A Night In The Western Wastes

Chapter 1

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 1

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 2

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 3

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 4

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 5

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 6

Night In The Western Wastes - Part 7

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Sin

Chapter 2

Sin - Part 1

Sin - Part 2

Sin - Part 3

Sin - Part 4

Sin - Part 5

Sin - Part 6

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Lost For Words

Chapter 3

Lost For Words - Part 1

Lost For Words - Part 2

Lost For Words - Part 3

Lost For Words - Part 4

Lost For Words - Part 5

Lost For Words - Part 6

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Revolutionary Type

Chapter 4

Revolutionary Type - Part 1

Revolutionary Type - Part 2

Revolutionary Type - Part 3

Revolutionary Type - Part 4

Revolutionary Type - Part 5

Revolutionary Type - Part 6

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Dome Locked

Chapter 5

Dome Locked - Part 1

Dome Locked - Part 2

Dome Locked - Part 3

Dome Locked - Part 4

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Into The Depth's

Chapter 6

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Source

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       M'Trada, Arien, Gael, and a small regiment of the royal guard followed the Mulu - Meeha Kalou - into the depths of the industrial zone known as The Oridium Mines. Meeha was referred to as his excellency, by the highly addicted droves of people who worked this decrepit shadow of the old world. Twisted, torn, and filthy. The sound of pain resonated from beneath where the world was being sapped for all it was worth. The Mulu seemed overjoyed by his high position, and charged forth, to meet whatever issue threatened his reign. M'Trada was sure that his fervor was stoked merely by the idea of being dethroned, otherwise, why would he leave the throne room with such haste?

       Walking down the winding tunnel networks; encased in concrete and old steel. Dust fragments rained on them. M'Trada - after a few minutes down here - could feel the thick coating on his tongue. It tasted like chemicals and dirt. After a few minutes more of walking, he found himself spit for the first time.
       Spitting had never been something he done regularly. It was so uncommon that even the movement of expelling saliva felt foreign to him. After the spit, he heard Gael grunt and snort, as a glob of mucus launched from his mouth, to land on one of the walls. It oozed, and slithered down to the ground, leaving a light sleek coating of a trail behind.
       The place was ugly. A grim place, which left an empty feeling in the pit of M'Trada's stomach. Repetitive thudding sounds blasted vibrations throughout his body. The earth moved so much with each consecutive one that he felt that the stone beneath his feet would break, and suck them all beneath the waves of muck. Lost down in a place beyond time, and progress. This tunnel was to become his tomb. An epitaph would read, "Into the depths the walked, but they had no idea where they were being led."
       M'Trada had no idea of this place. Knew none of these people. The royal guard seemed eager to please their master. Those emotions were fueled by the drugs he saw them inject while en route. This place was wrong. It felt wrong. He doubted his own intentions. The one leading them - Meeha Kalou - was insane. Hyped up whatever he had taken, and the idea of being a demi-god. His life was worth more to him than any of them, and in this, his kingdom, they were nothing but fodder. People to be used. The walls were closing in. Wrapping themselves around their party like some letch at the end of the night; like a person with no place left to go, but the party must go on. Those lost wanders. Those animals without a pen. Chest tightening. Heart-rate rising. Breaths becoming shallow. The ever-present thuds ran up his legs, from his feet. The spits of dust falling in piles around them. The Mulu grinning.
       "Charge!" He shouted. The royale guards shoved past him as he fell to the ground. The darkness ate him. He felt around for his way and listened as the footsteps became echoes, and those echoes left him alone.

       "What's wrong with you?" A voice in the dark and cold sky rang aloud. Feminine, and easy to hear. Arien.
       "You're my only connection to a life outside of this place." This confinement. M'Trada spoke into the void. "Only problem is, that your only connection to me is through Crovin." His voice turned bitter. The void was silent.
       "The others have ran ahead." She replied, and then more silence.
       M'Trada knew he needed to stand up and feel his way through the darkness. His chest felt tight, but a lot lighter than before. The thuds were there, they always were. The screaming bounced off the walls from far below, but they would at least be silent occasionally. The thuds were never silent here.