I was one of the lucky ones, one boys born to a high house. One of the few boys taught to read, taught to fight, taught to survive. Most grow up or die in the mines, while their sisters thrive and flourish, or die because they made a wrong choice at court. I know now that my life was privileged. But even then I longed to see the surface, to walk in the moonlight hand in hand with Eilistraee, my goddess. She called to me even then to join her, to join the few Drow that live with the others.
My mother taught me to play, to weave my music with spells and enchantments. It’s helped me survive, to earn enough to eat. To make a few friends.
I think about the rest, still miles beneath the surface. Someday my brothers, we’ll free you.