The crossing through the guardian had been violent, but what awaited beyond it was not another battle.
It was silence.
A silence so dense it seemed to drip from the stone walls and seep into their skin. The diffused glow of the elven barrier still pulsed behind them, muffling the chaotic roar of the storm that devoured the Intermediate Layer. Beyond that threshold, there were no monsters lurking, no predators hidden in the undergrowth. The very atmosphere of the Hidden Layer exhaled a near-sacrilegious calm — as though every step they dared to take was an act of profanation.
Indra drew a deep breath. The air felt lighter, yet strangely heavy with something invisible. Each inhalation made his muscles shift on their own, almost involuntarily, as if remembering steps from a choreography he had never learned. He clenched his fists to resist, but his fingers shaped a gesture of the Dance on their own.
Of course, Alexia noticed.
"Hm." Her tone was soft, almost an ironic whisper. "Seems the forest likes you better than it likes me. What a curious spectacle."
There was no anger in her voice, no frustration — only the cold delight of someone watching a rare play at the theater. Her arrogant gaze drifted across the moss-covered walls and the veins of phosphorescent crystal that ran along the ceiling like petrified constellations.
Indra remained silent. He, too, felt the wrongness of it: the place resonated with the rhythm of the Dance, and the Dance resonated with him.
Ahead, the path opened into a corridor choked with massive roots. As they drew near, the roots stirred in silence, like serpents roused from an ancient sleep. Gnarled trunks twisted, closing passages, opening others, shaping space according to a will not their own.
"A labyrinth." Alexia smiled faintly, folding her arms. "Let's see how far you can go, Indra."
He swallowed hard. The sensation was the same as when he had stood before the echoes in the cavern: his feet moved before thought could form, falling into rhythm. Roots shifted aside before his steps, others sealed behind him. The labyrinth bent itself to him.
For a time, Alexia merely followed, one brow arched, like someone realizing a street performer was secretly a master. When a root nearly struck her, she raised a single finger; her raw energy shattered it silently, without haste, without emotion.
They walked like this for long minutes — or perhaps hours. Time unraveled here. Flowers bloomed and withered in seconds; droplets fell from the ceiling so slowly they seemed to resist reaching the ground.
At last Indra stopped in a clearing carpeted with silver moss. The guiding roots withdrew as though recognizing he had reached the right place.
Alexia approached, her eyes narrowing. "Fascinating. You dance without realizing it, and the forest follows you as if you were its conductor."
She laughed, a low, cold sound. "Go on, Indra. Keep entertaining me."
Indra ignored her. He turned to the walls, where ancient elven symbols flickered faintly, as if eager to be read by him.
And then, for the first time since entering the Hidden Layer, he realized they were not alone. At the edge of vision, shadows stirred. Tall, slender, almost translucent figures — mirroring his movements. When he stepped back, they stepped back. When he raised his arm, they raised theirs. Ancestral echoes, reflections of warriors who had once trained upon this soil.
A chill raced down his spine.
Alexia only smiled again, her eyes gleaming with playful arrogance. "Ah, so that's it. The dead are dancing with you as well. Wonderful."
Indra tried to correct his movements. The shadows mirrored him faithfully, until the clearing was filled with them. For minutes, it was as though he danced alongside an army of phantoms.
When he finally completed a proper spin, all the shades vanished at once — like a curtain falling after a performance. The moss dimmed, and silence reclaimed the space.
But this silence was not empty.
Footsteps echoed in the distance. Not delayed echoes, not temporal illusions — real, steady, approaching along the same path of roots Indra and Alexia had crossed.
Alexia lifted her chin, attentive, though she made no move to fight. "Looks like the stage is about to welcome new actors."
Indra wiped the blood from his shoulder with his sleeve, breath ragged, and turned toward the sound. Two silhouettes emerged from the penumbra: a man of immaculate posture, each movement steeped in solemnity, and a woman whose light steps and dangerous smile illuminated the ruins like a flame.
Blood ran hot down Indra's shoulder, yet he scarcely felt it. Pain was muffled by the weight of what he had just endured: elven echoes imitating his steps, punishing every mistake with cruel precision. The rhythm of their invisible orchestra still thrummed within him, as though the forest had granted him only a rehearsal of a far greater symphony.
Alexia watched with her usual air of amusement, eyes half-lidded in irony.
"You nearly died trying to dance with ghosts," she remarked, as if reviewing a performance. "But I must admit — it was… beautiful."
Indra ignored her. He was about to ask what those echoes meant when the footsteps drew nearer.
From the shadows, two figures emerged.
The first was a man of serene bearing. Every movement was measured, as though centuries of tradition guided even the rhythm of his breath. His garments resembled those of an ancient dynasty, immaculate despite the damp ruins. When he stopped before them, he inclined his head with precise solemnity. "I see others have crossed the guardian as well." His voice was deep, calm, weighted with ceremonial respect. "Ye Chen, heir of the Ye Clan. It is an honor to meet you in this sacred ground."
Indra blinked, unsure how to respond. Alexia laughed, her sharp voice slicing through the reverence.
"Honor?" she repeated, amused. "Big words for a pile of broken stones."
Ye Chen turned to her with unshaken composure.
"Every ruin is memory. Every memory is life. Even a pile of stones deserves reverence, miss."
Alexia's lips curved in satisfaction. "Then revere all you like," she said, folding her arms. "I'll watch."
Before tension could rise, the second figure stepped forward.
A young woman of graceful bearing, her silver hair gleaming as though it captured every glint of light. She wore immaculate black attire that seemed to repel the dust of the ruins. But her eyes — golden, intense, fixed upon Indra with dangerous curiosity — commanded all attention.
She smiled, bowing with delicate poise.
"Indra, isn't it?" Her voice was melodic, almost too sweet for such a place. "I've heard of you… but I didn't expect to find you here."
Indra swallowed hard, unsettled by the way his name lingered on her tongue, like a secret revealed. "Yes… that's me."
Aurora Bianchi's smile remained flawless, though her eyes gleamed with a predatory interest.
Alexia smirked from the side, like an audience member savoring the arrival of new characters.
Ye Chen, meanwhile, stepped to a wall carved with symbols. He traced them with reverent fingers. "Ancient Elvish. The lost tongue of the High Elves." His voice carried a natural gravity, as if the very act of speaking the name were ritual.
Aurora moved to another section, where the inscriptions ended abruptly.
"Incomplete." she murmured. "As if the stone itself were torn from its history. Stairways leading nowhere, sentences that collapse into silence… this is no ordinary ruin."
Indra approached hesitantly. The glyphs glowed faintly, strangely familiar. Not because he had studied them, but by cadence, by pattern. They echoed languages he knew: Sumerian, Ancient Egyptian, Hebrew.
He touched one glyph, tracing its form. "The grammar structure… the ideogram roots. This is a lingua franca. A synthesis. See here—" he pointed. "This radical is nearly identical to the Sumerian for 'sky.' This ending — unmistakably Semitic, close to Ancient Hebrew. And here, a serpent glyph, practically borrowed from Demotic Egyptian for 'eternity'…"
He was muttering more to himself, his training as a linguist unfolding instinctively, connecting threads lost for millennia.
Aurora cut in, her voice soft yet sharp. "You're saying… you can read this?"
Indra hesitated. "Not completely. But it's as if I… know the path to decipher it."
Aurora's smile widened, enchanting and dangerous.
"Fascinating. Perhaps you are the key this place has been waiting for."
Ye Chen turned toward him as well, his gaze grave yet free of greed. "If true, then it is not power for you alone. The heritage of the ancients must be honored and shared with reverence."
Alexia chuckled darkly.
"Oh, wonderful. Now everyone wants to see what my little companion is hiding."
Indra stepped back, feeling the weight of their stares. Silence spread again, as though the ruins themselves awaited his answer.
And for a fleeting moment, he sensed the glyphs pulsing beneath his hand — not merely to be read, but to be danced.
---
The ruins stretched like an interrupted labyrinth: broken columns holding nothing, stairways ending in air, inscriptions dissolving mid-sentence. The place seemed torn from reality and returned only in fragments.
Indra scanned the walls, cataloguing echoes of languages he knew, but his focus kept slipping to his companions.
Ye Chen walked always a step ahead, immaculate in gesture, dignity emanating from every movement. When he touched a symbol, it was with the reverence of greeting an ancestor. No arrogance, no condescension — only honor.
It unsettled Indra. How can someone so powerful be… so courteous? he thought. He's the strongest of them — the one said to be unreachable. Yet he bows, he smiles, he speaks with respect.
Confusion gnawed at him. In his mind, heirs were arrogant, distant, untouchable. Alexia fit that mold. But Ye Chen? He was its opposite. And Aurora…
Indra looked away quickly.
Aurora moved a few paces behind Ye Chen, silver hair shimmering as though reflecting every fragment of light. Her golden eyes never left Indra, watching him with unusual, almost predatory focus. She smiled when he spoke, tilted her head when he faltered, and seemed interested in him alone, ignoring Alexia entirely.
She too… different. Indra suppressed the unease, but it lingered. I thought all heirs were alike. Arrogant, cold, untouchable. But she… she looks at me as if she already knows me. As if… she's expecting something.
He forced a deep breath. The ruins offered no respite.
The corridor ended in an open courtyard, bathed not in sunlight but in the walls' own glow. The floor was polished stone, inscribed with concentric circles of elven script.
Ye Chen was the first to notice. "Careful. This is no ordinary space," he warned gravely. "It's a ritual field."
The moment they crossed the circle's threshold, the inscriptions flared, and forms rose from the stone.
Warriors. Tall, slender, armed with curved blades and translucent armor. Not flesh and bone, but echoes — elven warriors who had walked this ground millennia ago.
Indra's breath caught. They weren't just present. They were staring at him.
One advanced. Not hostile — precise. It performed a movement of the Sword Dance: a fluid cut Indra recognized instantly. Without thinking, he mirrored it. His muscles responded before his mind, his invisible blade slicing air in sync with the specter.
The reflection withdrew, satisfied. Another stepped forward.
Aurora's golden eyes blazed with fascination. "They're responding to you," she whispered, almost entranced. "As if they're testing you."
Alexia chuckled. "Testing? No. They're shaping him. Look how they force him to correct each mistake. If he fails… I wager they'll tear him apart."
Sweat beaded on Indra's brow. The second echo demanded a more complex spin. He nearly faltered, but corrected just in time, remembering how his body had moved on its own earlier. The echoes accepted nothing less than perfection.
Ye Chen folded his arms, solemn. "The Dance is not only combat. It is language," he reflected aloud. "These warriors are not fighting — they are speaking."
The thought rattled Indra. It fit perfectly with the sensation building in him: that each step, each movement, was a word, a sentence — a dialogue with the forest itself.
The third echo appeared. Faster, harsher. Indra raised his arms, hesitated for a breath too long — and the specter's blade swept past his neck. He collapsed to his knees, heart racing.
Alexia's eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Nearly dead again. Don't worry… I would have written down every detail."
Aurora stepped closer, her voice soft but firm, almost commanding. "Stand, Indra. They won't accept you if you falter."
Ye Chen did not intervene. He only watched, grave, as though witnessing a sacred rite.
Indra clenched his teeth, forcing himself up. This time, he let his muscles guide him. The Dance flowed. The echo matched him. The circle blazed — and then all the shades dissolved at once, like smoke whisked away.
Silence fell upon the courtyard.
Indra trembled, breath ragged, but alive.
Aurora smiled, enigmatic.
"You truly are the key to this place."
Alexia clapped slowly, a sarcastic applause. "Bravo, Indra. Keep it up. This is getting more and more… entertaining."
Ye Chen placed a hand on his shoulder — respectful, steady. "You will bear a heavy burden," he said, with all the weight of his heritage. "But you will not bear it alone. Honor it."
Indra lowered his gaze, confused. They are not what I imagined. Not what I prepared to face. How can I surpass them… if I can't even understand them?
And the courtyard, now silent, seemed to whisper the same question back at him.