My mother named me Diana and I came into this world as if hanging by a cliff, uncertain of whether I was actually hanging for dear life or holding a boulder from collapsing, crushing me into oblivion. That’s how things began for me in this world of perpetual darkness. My mother gave birth to me during the time when the sun decided to retreat, its rays fading into the thick cloud of destruction, reminding the inhabitants of Earth of the fragile, and fleeting nature of life and its problems. One day, according to my mother, the sky went black and all else became uninhabitable, except for the caverns scattered deep beneath the surface. The underworld some would call it, where the dead linger, waiting to be lifted into some idealized version of heaven. “It was the people’s thoughts,” my mama said, “the patterns of greed and fear, their relentless drive to control, that fed the smog. Each selfish action added weight to the smoke until it finally rose to devour the sky, suffocating the light.” But the realm below was safe. It’s shadows and ghosts, comforting. And so there, where the air hung thick with moisture—never cold but always heavy—I grew up watching my mother struggle to maintain life at its barest. Skipping through rocks, my feet became familiar with every jagged edge, every smooth stone underfoot, each twisting maze that led me deeper into the earth, deeper into the parts of myself I couldn’t escape. I was falling, as if I had once soared high, only to be cast down into this world beneath the surface of things—an exile from the light, from grace itself. An exile from life. The caverns, though consumed by darkness, held their own strange beauty. The flow of fluorescent waters, the ponds pulsing with aquamarine light, guided me. It was as if the earth itself sheltered me, glowing only in the hidden places untouched by the pain that had shaped my life, cradling me in its depths as I grew. Now, I held my mama in my arms, the last remnants of life slipping away through the clear glass of her eyes; a radiant light expanding outward, illuminating the small space around us—her soul casting one final glow. “Diana, remember this,” my mother’s voice echoed through the cavern walls, her tone sharp but laced with love. “These paths…they’ll lead you back when the time comes. Don’t forget.” She paused, her gaze flickering to the dim light of the waters. “I won’t be here to guide you safely back to the surface, but you’ll know…” Her voice labored as I waited for her sweet words to continue. “Mama? I’ll know what, Mama?” She looked at me, her eyes holding a whisper, “You’ll know when it’s time to leave.” Her voice faded, and with it, the last of her breath. Meanwhile, on the surface, the fighing rages on. The world crumbles under the weight of their wars. But here, in the vast caverns beneath the the earth, I wait within the depths to rise above it all.