Veins of Cor Lapis line the walls like roots, pulsing with a faint golden light that beats in rhythm with your own heart. The deeper you go, the brighter they glow.

Your footsteps echo. Once. Twice. Then no more, as if the cave has swallowed even that sound.

Ahead, the tunnel widens into a chamber so vast you cannot see its ceiling. The Cor Lapis here is thick, clustered, shining like frozen sunlight caught beneath stone. At the center, a single stalactite descends, its tip brushing a pool of still, dark water that reflects nothing.

And then you feel it.

A weight. Not physical. Older. The air thickens around your shoulders, pressing gently, asking nothing and everything at once.

You are not alone.

From the darkness beyond the pool, a figure steps forward. Not suddenly. Not with theatrics. Simply there, as if he has always been standing in that spot, watching, and has only now chosen to be seen.