The Lament hung in the humid air like mist, a melody woven from sorrow and the slow erosion of centuries. It wasn't loud, yet it permeated the Sunken Forest, resonating in the colossal roots, vibrating in the droplets falling from the unseen canopy, echoing in the caverns of Nian's own chest. The Starfall fragment in her hands pulsed softly in time with its mournful rhythm, its emerald light dimmed to a watchful ember. Even the persistent buzz of its flaw seemed muted, absorbed by the ancient dirge.
Mei Lin extinguished their meager fire, plunging them back into the ghostly blue-green glow of the phosphorescent moss and the fragment's faint light. "The song guides," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the Lament's ethereal strains. "Or warns. But it points the way." She gestured downstream, towards the source of the haunting music and the thunderous roar of the unseen cataract. "The City lies beyond the falls. We follow the sound."
Leaving the muddy shore felt like stepping away from the last solid anchor in a world of liquid shadow. They slipped back into the dark water, the current in the side channel gentler now, but the sense of immersion in the Grove's sentient presence was overwhelming. The colossal trees loomed like petrified titans, their roots forming labyrinthine walls around them. The Lament grew clearer as they paddled – a complex interplay of reed pipes and a deep, resonant string instrument, impossibly sustained, speaking of loss and endurance.
The side channel rejoined the main flow of the Azure Serpent just before it plunged over the cataract. The roar was deafening, a physical wall of sound and spray. A vast curtain of falling water crashed down into a churning, mist-shrouded abyss below. But to the left, where the cavern wall curved, the river didn't fall. Instead, it widened into a vast, eerily still lagoon, choked with the same monstrous roots and draped in hanging moss. And rising from the water, shrouded in perpetual twilight and mist, were structures.
The Drowned City.
Not merely ruins submerged, but a city *embraced* by the Sunken Forest. Towers, impossibly tall and slender, carved from the same slick black stone as the tree bark, pierced the gloom, their upper levels lost in the misty canopy. They leaned precariously, draped in vines thicker than siege ropes, their surfaces etched with elaborate, flowing patterns that seemed to shift in the phosphorescent light. Bridges, skeletal and moss-covered, arched between towers, spanning waterways choked with luminous algae. Lower buildings, domes and arches, were half-submerged, their windows dark, empty eyes gazing into the aquatic depths. Stone wharves crumbled into the lagoon, slick with glowing growth. Every surface bore the mark of water and time, yet an unsettling sense of preserved grandeur remained. This was not a ruin abandoned; it was a city dreaming beneath the water.
The Lament emanated from everywhere – from the sighing wind through broken towers, from the drip of water on stone, from the groan of ancient wood under impossible weight. It was the city's breath, its heartbeat slowed to a mournful dirge.
"Spirits walk here," Grandma whispered, her voice filled with awe and a deep, instinctive dread. She clung to a root, her eyes scanning the spectral vista. "Not malevolent… but sorrowful. Trapped echoes."
Mei Lin pointed towards a relatively intact section near the lagoon's edge – a series of broad, submerged steps leading up to a grand plaza flanked by leaning towers. "There. We can climb out. Find shelter from the current… and whatever else listens."
They navigated the final stretch, the water unnervingly still near the city's edge, thick with drifting strands of glowing algae. The silence beneath the Lament felt heavier here, watchful. As they reached the algae-slick steps and began to haul themselves onto the plaza, Nian felt it – a shift in the water behind them. Not the current. A displacement. Large. Purposeful.
She spun, heart lurching. The water where they had just been rippled, then *parted*. A figure rose from the lagoon's surface.
It was humanoid, but sculpted from flowing water and solidified shadow. It stood easily twice Nian's height, its form constantly shifting, shimmering with trapped phosphorescent light. Its "face" was smooth, featureless except for two deep, hollow sockets where eyes should be, radiating an intense, chilling blue light. In its hand, it held a shimmering, translucent spear formed of pure, churning water. It made no sound, but its presence radiated coldness and a profound, ancient grief that resonated with the Lament. A **Water Sentinel**. A spirit guardian woven from the city's sorrow and the lagoon's essence.
It didn't attack. It simply stood, blocking their retreat into the lagoon, its hollow gaze fixed on them, the water-spear held loosely but ready. The Lament's melody seemed to coil around it, amplifying its sorrowful aura.
"Don't move," Mei Lin breathed, frozen halfway out of the water, her hand hovering near her knife. "Don't provoke it. It's… assessing."
Nian felt the Starfall fragment pulse against her chest, not with fear, but with a strange, resonant curiosity. Its light, still dim, seemed to reach out towards the Sentinel's blue gaze. The flaw within it gave a single, soft *chime*, like a droplet falling on still water. The Sentinel's head tilted slightly, a ripple cascading through its watery form. The hollow blue eyes seemed to sharpen, focusing on Nian, or more precisely, on the fragment hidden beneath her tunic.
"It senses the star," Grandma murmured, her voice trembling but analytical. "Celestial power… fallen into the drowned world. It grieves… or remembers."
The Sentinel took a single, silent step forward through the water, the movement effortless. The tip of its water-spear gleamed. The profound cold radiating from it intensified, making Nian shiver violently.
Mei Lin slowly, carefully, pulled herself fully onto the plaza, keeping her movements smooth and non-threatening. "Nian… Grandma… up. Slowly. Keep facing it."
They followed, moving with agonizing slowness. The Sentinel matched them, gliding forward, maintaining its distance, its gaze unwavering. It felt like being stalked by embodied sorrow. They reached the relative safety of the cracked stone plaza. The Sentinel stopped at the water's edge, standing sentinel on the submerged steps, its spear point now angled slightly upwards. It didn't advance onto dry stone, but its presence was a barrier as effective as any wall.
"We're pinned," Mei Lin stated flatly. "It guards the approach. We can't go back into the lagoon."
Nian looked past the silent guardian, deeper into the drowned city. The plaza led to shadowed archways and narrow, algae-slicked streets winding between the leaning towers. The Lament seemed stronger here, emanating from the city's heart. The fragment pulsed again, a warm throb against her skin, its light flaring slightly as if drawn towards the labyrinthine depths. The flaw chimed softly once more.
"It wants us to go deeper," Nian realized, her voice barely a whisper. "The fragment… it's resonating. The Sentinel isn't barring our way… it's *herding* us."
Grandma nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on the watery guardian. "It guards the threshold… but perhaps it serves a deeper purpose. The Weaver's will… or the city's own fading memory." She took a shaky step forward, away from the lagoon's edge, towards a grand, arched gateway leading into a street choked with glowing moss and fallen masonry. "We follow the song. We follow the star's pull."
Leaving the silent, sorrowful Sentinel watching from the water's edge, they turned their backs on the lagoon and stepped into the Drowned City proper. The Lament swelled around them, no longer just sound, but a physical sensation – a vibration in the stone beneath their feet, a pressure in the air. The Starfall fragment glowed steadily now, a beacon in the perpetual twilight, illuminating the ruins with its emerald light. The flaw's chime had settled into a soft, almost rhythmic pulse, like a heartbeat syncing with the city's dirge. Ahead, the shadowed streets beckoned, promising the Weaver's presence and the perilous chance to mend the fractured sky. The guardian of the lagoon had not struck, but its mournful gaze followed them as they vanished into the heart of the sunken world, walking the path woven by sorrow and celestial light.