The air in the cavern shifted as they approached the sound of flowing water, soft at first, then growing into a constant, gentle rush that reverberated along the walls. Lira paused at the edge of a narrow fissure, where the underground stream wound like a silver ribbon through the darkness. Its surface shimmered faintly under the glow of the vial, ripples catching the light and refracting it into patterns that danced across the damp stone.
She knelt for a moment at the water's edge, dipping a hand into the icy flow. Tiny currents tugged at her fingers, delicate and insistent, and she realized—almost instinctively—that these were not ordinary currents. They were alive with subtle intent, carrying whispers she could not yet fully interpret. A faint pulse emanated from the water, a rhythm that matched neither her heartbeat nor Serelyth's, but something in between—a cadence older than time, patient, knowing.
