A soft hum pulsed through the cave, resonating through Lyra's qi pathways. The glowing symbol on the wall flickered in rhythmic waves, almost like a heartbeat. She knelt before it, eyes narrowed, tracing the subtle shifts in its light. This wasn't just decoration—there was a hidden purpose behind the pattern.
Taking a slow breath, she circulated her qi, sharpening her senses. The damp cave walls held traces of old magic, barely detectable but present. She reached for a piece of luminous moss, rubbing it between her fingers before letting it hover in the air with a gentle pulse of energy. The moss's glow distorted slightly in one spot, revealing an unseen ripple in the mana field. A concealed mechanism.
She tightened her grip on her wooden staff and tapped the symbol again. The glow flared. This time, she felt a faint shift beneath her feet—a subtle tremor in the stone. Lyra pressed her palm against the symbol, guiding a trickle of qi into it. The wall vibrated, and a thin outline on the cave floor came into focus. A spiral, mirroring the symbol's shape.
She exhaled.
Stepping onto the spiral, she channeled energy into her stance. A low click echoed through the chamber, and the stone wall groaned as it slid open, revealing a narrow passageway.
No hasty moves.
She extended her awareness, feeling for traps—disturbances in mana, shifts in the air, anything out of place. A faint draft whispered through the tunnel, carrying a scent of something old, something… waiting. Lyra crafted a qi construct, a floating wisp of energy, and sent it ahead. It drifted through the passage, scanning the path before her. No immediate threats, but the air was thick with latent energy.
Bracing herself, she stepped forward. The entrance sealed behind her, locking her into the unknown.
---
The corridor twisted and turned, the walls pressing close. Lyra's breathing was steady, measured. Her fingers grazed the stone, feeling the subtle grooves left by whatever hands—human or otherwise—had carved this place.
Then, the tunnel opened into a chamber.
A floating platform dominated the center, bathed in the eerie glow of the same symbol from before. But her eyes weren't drawn to the platform itself.
A crystalline spider clung to its surface, its many faceted eyes glinting as they turned toward her.
Lyra's heartbeat quickened. It wasn't just a mindless construct—its movements were too precise. Its body shimmered, bending light around it in a way that made it difficult to sense. A passive concealment ability? No wonder her qi wisp hadn't detected it.
Her gaze flickered to the small, blue herb resting just beyond the spider's reach. Skybloom. A rare plant, one that could accelerate a cultivator's breakthrough. The clan's texts spoke of its potency, and now it lay within arm's reach… if she could get past the guardian.
Lyra tightened her grip on her staff.
A direct fight wasn't an option. The spider was fast—faster than she could match in open combat. But speed wasn't everything. The chamber was layered with faint magical traces, subtle anomalies in the terrain. A loose rock. A slick patch of moss. A narrow crevice in the wall.
She could use this.
A plan formed in her mind. She took a step forward, feinting toward the platform. The spider reacted instantly, its crystalline legs clicking against stone as it lunged. She twisted, launching a controlled qi blast toward the loose rock. The impact sent it skittering across the chamber, drawing the creature's attention for a fraction of a second.
That was all she needed.
She darted toward the moss, channeling a thin thread of energy into it. The surface shimmered, turning slick beneath the spider's feet. As it scuttled toward her, its legs skidded, its movements faltering.
Lyra moved.
A burst of energy propelled her toward the platform. The spider, realizing the trick, adjusted mid-motion, its clawed appendage slicing through the air. Too fast. She couldn't dodge completely.
Pain flared as a claw raked across her arm, but she gritted her teeth and didn't stop.
With a final push, she reached for the Skybloom.
Shadow Grasp.
The forbidden technique coiled around her qi, distorting time for the briefest of moments. The world blurred—her movements outpacing the spider's strike by the smallest fraction. Her fingers closed around the herb.
And then the platform shuddered.
A rune ignited beneath her feet, bright and pulsing. The chamber trembled. The walls began to shift, closing in.
Lyra didn't waste time. She pivoted, ignoring the dizziness from her technique's strain, and sprinted back toward the tunnel. The spider screeched behind her, but the shifting walls forced it back.
She threw herself into the passage just as the entrance slammed shut behind her.
Silence.
Lyra leaned against the stone, her breath ragged. The Skybloom rested in her palm, its glow steady, its energy thrumming in sync with her heartbeat.
She had survived. But she knew this was only the beginning.