The spring shattered with a soundless cry.
Light exploded—then folded inward. For an instant, the world was pure whiteness, every leaf and stone erased.
Then came the pull.
Lian barely had time to gasp before the ground beneath them gave way. Water, light, and air spiraled together, dragging both down in a single, breathless motion.
Her fingers found his sleeve by instinct. His hand caught hers in return—warm, solid, defiant against the current.
They plunged through silence.
No roar of water, no rush of air. Only pressure—the weight of something vast and ancient exhaling around them. Lian's hair drifted like black silk,
She tried, clutching his arm until her knuckles whitened. Her pulse beat against his wrist—rapid, frightened—but her gaze remained strangely calm.
If this is the will of Heaven, she thought dimly, then perhaps I was never meant to stand above the earth.
They fell what felt like a lifetime before the pull suddenly stopped.
The water that had swallowed them vanished as if it had never been.
They landed hard upon stone. Damp air rushed in, thick with age and the scent of minerals.
Huo Yun was first to rise. His flame flickered weakly in the dark, illuminating an expanse that seemed carved from the bones of mountains. The walls glimmered faintly—veins of light tracing symbols half-buried in crystal.
Lian drew a trembling breath. The echo of their descent faded, leaving only the slow drip of unseen water.
"This place…" she whispered. "It's breathing too."
Indeed, the chamber pulsed with a rhythm—soft, patient, older than language. Each heartbeat of light glowed through the carvings: five circles of color surrounding a sixth that was empty, hollow.
Huo Yun stepped closer, brushing dust from the nearest sigil. "Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water," he murmured. "The Five. But what's the center?"
"The place where they meet," she said quietly. "The Master once called it the Silent Current—the space that keeps the world from bursting."
He turned to her. "Void?"
Her lips parted, but she didn't answer. The air itself seemed to wait for her response.
Then the stone beneath their feet trembled.
A ripple crossed the floor—faint light running along cracks like liquid gold. The walls shivered, dust falling in soft rain.
Huo Yun raised his sword, flame circling the blade. "Back!"
But the chamber did not attack it awakened. The five colored circles began to turn, slowly, grinding against unseen gears. The air thickened with Qi—wet, cold, and angry.
From far below came a sound—not a roar, not speech, but a low vibration that rattled their bones.
Lian froze. "That sound… the same as before."
He glanced toward the dark fissure opening at the center of the pattern. "There's something down there."
She stepped closer despite herself. "It's… calling."
"Calling who?"
Her breath shook. "Me."
Before he could stop her, she knelt beside the crack. A faint glow touched her face—gold fading into white. The light responded to her presence, spiraling upward in delicate lines like roots seeking air.
The pulse quickened.
"Lian, move!"
The fissure widened, the glow blinding. Wind screamed through the cavern though there was no opening above. Water surged upward from the cracks, suspended midair, forming rings around them.
In the center of the storm, something stirred.
A shape—vast, fluid, shifting between form and formlessness. A long body coiled in mist, scales glimmering between blue and crimson, its eyes closed as if dreaming.
Lian's heart hammered. "It's not a demon," she whispered. "It's—"
"A spirit beast," Huo Yun finished grimly. "But its Qi… it's corrupted."
The creature's eyes opened—two molten orbs reflecting fire and moonlight. The gaze met hers, and for a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe.
The air between them rippled. A voice—if it could be called that—filled her mind.
"Why… have you returned… to me?"
She flinched backward. "It spoke—"
Huo Yun stepped forward, blade raised. "Who are you?"
The serpent's body arched, water spiraling around it. Its voice echoed again, resonant as the deep sea.
"Once… I guarded the flow. Now I am the wound. You—Silent Current—you should not be."
Lian's blood turned to ice. "Silent… Current…"
The serpent's head lowered until its reflection met hers in the rising water.
"The one who erased light… returns."
The walls blazed—the five circles spinning faster, feeding into the dark center.
Huo Yun seized her wrist. "We're leaving!"
But the ground convulsed, throwing them both off balance. The serpent's coils struck, not to kill but to bind. Water wrapped around their ankles, dragging them toward the center where light collapsed inward like a dying sun.
Huo Yun's flame burst forth, slicing through the stream long enough to pull her free. "Move!"
They stumbled toward the wall. The chamber roared, and for an instant, everything turned white again.
The serpent's voice thundered once more—closer this time, almost sorrowful.
"You do not remember… but the Wheel does."
Then the floor beneath them cracked, and they fell into deeper darkness.
They landed on cold stone again, this time amid shallower water that glowed faintly from below. Above them, the fissure sealed with a hiss, trapping them in twilight.
Huo Yun coughed, steadying himself against a pillar. "That thing—what was it talking about?"
Lian stared upward, still pale. "I don't know." A pause. "But it wasn't lying. I… felt its grief."
"Grief?"
She nodded slowly. "As if it remembered losing something it was meant to protect."
The chamber responded with another slow pulse—calmer now, but heavy with breathless anticipation.
Huo Yun sheathed his sword, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Whatever it is, it seems to think you're part of its story."
Her fingers tightened around her sleeve. "Maybe I am."
They stood in silence, the sound of dripping water echoing through the hollow space. The air carried a faint warmth—his fire mingling with her calm, forming a fragile balance amid the darkness.
Then, from far below, that same voice rose again—soft, almost a whisper this time.
"Lian…"
She froze. "Did you hear that?"
He looked around. "No. What did it say?"
Her lips trembled. "It… said my name."
The light beneath their feet flared once—gold bleeding into white.
And before either could speak, the water began to rise again.