The battlefield fell silent.
What remained was ruin: scorched ridges, torn soil, the breathless hush that follows a storm too great to comprehend.
Amara, frail in her spirit form, had seen it all—every shattering roar, every gale that bent the earth, every spark of impossible might. For Tian and the rest of the expedition, it had been different. To them, the clash was only thunder in the distance, flashes at the horizon, tremors that shook bone but never revealed the hand that struck.
They felt the echoes. Amara bore the truth.
Her whispered descriptions had painted visions that their minds could scarcely hold. It should have broken them with fear. Yet by now—after so many revelations—astonishment was a rhythm they had learned to endure. Each new impossibility was met not with disbelief but with grim acceptance: this is the world now.
The storm ended. And from the sky descended the white-robed elder.
He touched the earth as though gravity itself bowed before him. The three warriors—the spear-bearer, the swordsman, and their commanding woman—bowed so deeply their foreheads nearly grazed the dirt. His presence demanded it.
His voice was calm, a ripple on still water. Words flowed, foreign yet weighty, his gestures precise, his authority unmistakable. Then he turned.
For a breath, his gaze lingered on Tian's group. His eyes, remote as stars, swept over each of them, pausing at the essence orb. Something unreadable flickered in his look—calculation, judgment, perhaps mercy. Without explanation, he vanished, his robe a final whisper as he slipped into the cave's depths.
Silence. Then, the three warriors moved.
Not with blades, not with threats—but with invitation. The woman beckoned them forward. The two men shifted to guard the rear.
Amara, still tethered to the unseen, confirmed what their hearts wanted to believe."They mean us no harm. With strength like that elder's, if they wanted us gone… we'd already be nothing. I sense… goodwill."
Her voice faded. Her strength gave out. She drifted into sleep once more.
Tian drew a deep breath. He trusted her. He signaled the others. The decision rippled through the team—uncertainty remained, but trust took hold. They lifted Amara gently into a rolling chair, keeping her safe at the center.
Thus the procession began.
The woman led. The spearman and swordsman closed behind. And when the last member crossed the threshold, the boulder was rolled into place, sealing the world above as if it had never been.
The descent was long.
Minutes bled into nearly an hour as the path twisted downward. The walls were raw, untouched by tools, shaped only by the slow patience of stone. The tunnel widened, its ceiling rising like the nave of some hidden cathedral.
At last, they reached a crossroad—eight yawning tunnels leading into darkness. The woman stopped. Her lips moved in chant. The air shimmered. Reality shifted.
Before their eyes, a new doorway bled into existence.
It was no mere gap in stone. It was beauty incarnate: a liquid veil of light, rippling like water, shining like sky caught in glass. A gateway that did not belong to earth.
She glanced back, her nod both command and reassurance.
Together, they stepped through.
The world changed in an instant.
The miasma, that choking veil that dulled their senses for so long, vanished. Their eyes opened wide. Breath came easier.
And before them rose the impossible.
A tree—vast, eternal. Its trunk was broader than the size of their complex- No, it was thrice of its size, its bark etched with glowing veins. It grew not from the earth, but from the heavens downward, its colossal roots piercing the ground above. Branches stretched like bridges, each supporting villages, clusters of homes and towns that clung to their surface as though born of the tree itself.
It was a world turned upside down, yet alive.
Children of this place scampered freely—small, furred creatures called rittles, bold and mischievous, bounding like playful hounds. Above, elegant cranes of soft blue plumage swept the air in gliding arcs, their wings vast, their cries haunting.
The expedition froze. Awe struck them wordless.
Weeks of darkness, poison air, and barren soil had eroded their hope. Now, at last, color returned. Life surged around them. A miracle, raw and undeniable, stretched out before their weary eyes.
The Gateway to Life.