The corridor widened into a grand chamber, far larger than any she had yet seen in the labyrinth. Stalactites hung like crystalline daggers from the ceiling, dripping faintly, each drop echoing with a resonant chime against the stone floor. The air was thick with a subtle hum—barely perceptible, but unmistakably alive. Lira's hands tightened around the silver vial from the fairies, the gentle glow spilling over the carved symbols etched into the walls.
Serelyth lowered herself beside her, wings partially unfolded, casting a protective shadow without restricting movement. "This is different," she murmured, her voice a low vibration in Lira's chest. "The Spirit guides you to what must be faced. Inside, your mind will create. Your fear will shape the chamber. Pay attention. Trust what you feel, not what your mind shows you."
