The axolotls responded predictably, yet individually. Some mirrored her movements, some adjusted slightly, while others moved independently, weaving a dance that was intricate, fragile, and beautiful. Lira realized the lesson: the Spirit did not command. It suggested. It nudged. It allowed the attentive to follow, to harmonize, to learn.
She closed her eyes, letting her entire body resonate with the energies around her. Vibrations from the water, whispers from the stone, currents of air brushing her skin—they all converged into a faint, continuous pulse. And in that pulse, she sensed the faintest of hints: a direction, subtle and indirect, suggested by the movement of the smallest axolotls, reinforced by the alignment of moss along the walls, and carried in the almost imperceptible warmth in the cavern's air.
