The cavern began to feel like a cage, mocking her with its perfect calm.
The glowing algae swayed gently in the currents, the fish drifted effortlessly through the waters—yet she could not capture even a fragment of that serenity within herself.
The next day, Iris sat down again, her hands curled into fists in her lap.
Her breathing was measured, but her heart whispered with the same storm as before.
She tried, again, to imagine the droplet. She tried to erase herself, to dissolve her will into the endless current the manual demanded.
But the more she forced it, the more it resisted.
Finally, her eyes opened once more.
By the seventh day, Iris stood.
Her eyes were sharp, her expression frost-bitten, but her movements betrayed the tension coiled inside her.
She stared down at her own hands, pale in the algae light.
"This isn't working" She muttered to herself, feeling frustrated that she couldn't comprehend this task.
