The stone door didn't scrape against the floor. It liquefied.
The solid rock shimmered and retracted into the walls with a fluid, silent grace that defied the laws of friction. As the gap widened, a strange, sterile light spilled out—not the warm flickering glow of torchlight, nor the bioluminescence of the deep, but a steady, unblinking radiance emitted by the walls themselves.
"LINEAGE CONFIRMED. CYCLE RESUMED."
The voice didn't come from a speaker. It resonated from the architecture, vibrating directly into their bones like a heavy bass note. It sounded ancient, mechanical, and terrifyingly indifferent.
Primrose floated there, her mouth slightly open. She looked at the glowing silver veins pulsing in the archway, and then at the seamless, crystalline corridor revealed beyond it.
"Operator... Cycle resumed?" Primrose whispered. "That's not... that's not fantasy dialogue. That's... command code."
