The passage forked ahead of them, splitting into two narrow corridors carved by time itself. One ran smooth and straight, lined with faint veins of crystal that shimmered with a pale light. The other seemed darker, winding away like a secret whispered into the stone, almost daring them to follow.
Serelyth paused at the fork, her human form clothed in faint, silver radiance that always clung to her whenever she lingered too long away from her draconic self. "Two paths," she murmured softly, tilting her head. "Both lead deeper, but one hides more than it shows."
Lira felt the tug immediately. Something unseen drew at her spirit, a sound just beneath the edges of hearing. It wasn't the hum of stone or the faint drip of water echoing in the caverns—it was weeping. Soft, broken sobs tangled together, rising and falling like waves of grief echoing from centuries past.
Her chest tightened. "Do you hear that?"
