The great archway stood solemn, once a great structure though now it was ancient, swallowed by the valley's creeping mist.
Cracks ran deep through its surface, but even with time and its relentless erosion, it endured. Faint carvings could be seen, now a thing of the past.
He ran his fingers across them, feeling the rough stone beneath his calloused skin.
He couldn't read the carvings—whatever language they once belonged to had been lost—but something about them felt right, as if they belonged here, as if they had been waiting.
The man stepped forward.
The air thickened the moment he crossed the threshold. The weather was cooler here, damp with the scent of wet stone and moss, as if he had stepped into the breath of the earth.
The fog pooled at his feet, curling along the uneven terrain like a living thing, but it did not obscure his path. It simply lingered in a silent and gentle manner.
The passage sloped downward, guiding him into the depths of the world. Stalactites dripped water steadily, the droplets vanishing into underground lakes. He let his body guide him without much thought, his footsteps quiet against the smooth, worn stone.
For a moment, the unforgiving world felt different.
Not oppressive. Not suffocating
Alive.
The further he walked, the more he could feel it—the quiet pulse of the cavern's existence. The fresh air moving through tunnels. The distant rush of water carving its way through rock. The scent of minerals mixed with damp earth,both rich and untouched by time.
He summoned flames that flickered at his fingertips to guide himself through this corridors. The fire casted a warm glow against the walls and revealed thin veins of white crystal embedded deep within the stone, that glimmered faintly in response. He paused, contemplating the scene.
They sparkled like trapped starlight.
He ran his fingers over one, feeling the way the mineral cut into the stone, forming delicate, twisting patterns as if they had grown rather than been placed there. It was strange to think about—how deep below the surface, in this place untouched by the sky, beauty still thrived.
He exhaled, watching as his breath curled into the cool air.
Then, he continued.
The tunnels stretched on, winding and twisting like the veins of a great beast. Some narrowed, forcing him to lower his head as he passed. Others opened into vast chambers, their ceilings lost to darkness.
In one such cavern, he stopped.
A lake spread out before him, its surface perfectly still, reflecting the faint glow of the crystals that adorned the walls like distant stars. Stalagmites rose from the water's depths, their jagged forms casting long shadows across the cavern floor.
And in the center, a stone bridge—natural, yet impossibly perfect.
It arched over the lake's surface, smooth and unbroken, as if the earth itself had willed it into existence. He walked across it slowly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the rock. Below, in the water's undisturbed depths, faint shapes moved—not creatures, but light. Pale, drifting glows, like embers trapped beneath the surface, shifting with an unseen current.
He knelt at the edge of the bridge and reached down, brushing his fingers against the water.
It was cool to the touch, but not biting. The glow swirled in response, forming soft ripples that spread outward before fading back into stillness.
For a moment, he simply sat there.
The dagger remained silent in his grip, as if it, too, was watching.
After some time, he stood and continued.
The cavern narrowed once more, leading him deeper, further than he would have thought this passages coukd reach. The rock formations changed subtly—the walls smoother, the ceilings higher. The air, once rich with moisture, grew thinner, yet still carried the scent of rain-soaked stone.
And then, he reached it.
A vast chamber. It seemed to be the end of the path
A great hollow in the earth, its ceiling arching impossibly high above him. Thin waterfalls streamed from cracks in the rock, their silver threads vanishing into shallow pools .
The mist was thicker here, still swirling at his feet, rising toward the towering stone formations that jutted from the ground .
And at the chamber's heart, half-buried in the earth, stood a door.
Though strangely it didnt appear to be one carved by human hands.
It was grown, formed by the very stone itself, its surface lined with veins of crystal that pulsed faintly, like the steady breath of something dormant.
He approached.
The moment his fingers brushed against the cold surface, the air shifted.
The waterfalls stilled.
The mist trembled.
The silence deepened into something else.
He pushed, and pushed with all his strength slowly moving the massive piece of rock.
And then—
The door began to open.