The subterranean refuge lay in oppressive silence, pierced only by the faint hum of ancient machinery struggling against time. Flickering torchlight—supplied by phosphorescent moss in carved niches—cast dancing shadows over the walls, revealing the lattice of gears, levers, and channels winding into the grey stone like veins.
Li Wei and Leng Yue stood side by side in the central chamber, their steps echoing faintly, as though the earth itself monitored their intrusion.
Li Wei's fingers brushed across a brass gear the size of a man's fist. He turned it gently. It held, then gave with a soft click. ~ click… ~ His breath caught. He let his hand drop. "These architects who wrought this refuge must have abandoned it in haste," he murmured, voice low. The words seemed swallowed by the walls. He had seen many signs of former inhabitants: faint footprints in dusted corridors, broken pottery shards, and a half-consumed lantern, extinguished mid‑flame.
Leng Yue's eyes traced the inscriptions etched along the concentric walls. The glyphs coiled like serpents, yet made no sense. Her brow furrowed. "These inscriptions … they are not like any dialect in our library archives," she said softly, disappointment and frustration mingling in her tone.
She had spent years poring over lost tongues; yet these shapes defied all classification. "If I had a palette of their letters, at least I might begin the transcription." She sighed, stepping away from the wall and letting her fingers trail through the dust in midair.
Between them perched the bird that had guided them here. It was motionless, regal, its feathers a quiescent grey-green under the torchlight, head tilted.
It gave no caw, no flutter—only watched. It sat upon the outstretched hand of a statue: a figure robed in misty blue silk, draping like a waterfall of cloth, patterned with cryptic motifs. The statue's face was carved cold, utterly expressionless—a mask of stone. Yet Li Wei felt a tremor in his breast: this cold vigil bore significance.
Leng Yue circled the monument, sandals whispering on the stone floor. She crouched to examine cracks at its base, slipping her fingers into crevices. "By the old gods, this statue has shifted from its original place," she observed. Her eyes flicked upward, noting faint gouges in the floorstone, as though the statue had been slid sideways on rails or tracks. She touched the robe folds cast in stone, tested their angle. Her voice dropped, reverent: "Something or someone moved this, perhaps deliberately."
Li Wei stepped forward. "Perhaps a different perspective will bring clarity." He raised his hands and traced an arc in midair. He pointed his index finger at the temple of the bird's head. The torchlight gleamed off the bird's brow.
For a moment nothing happened, and Leng Yue tensed—ready to pull him back to reality. But then, with a faint hum, a beam of pale light shot from his finger toward the bird's temple. ~ whirr… ~
At that instant, the bird's stone-cold eyes glowed, and above them bloomed a misty iris in thin fog: a third eye of silvery light sprouted between the two. ~ whoosh… ~ Leng Yue gasped, trembling. The third eye unfurled, pale and spectral, suspended in midair.
Li Wei shut his own eyes. Focus, he thought. He felt his qi flow, anchored in mind and marrow. In the darkness behind his lids, the layout of the entire chamber formed itself: a precise blueprint. Gear wheels, hidden passages, channels, pressure plates, conduits—everything. Paths he had not noticed, walls that appeared solid but were false facades.
He saw the tunnels into which water once flowed, the reservoirs, the valves. He saw hidden compartments behind the wall panels, and counterweights suspended in darkness. He saw how the statue's base concealed a sliding panel, and how, if twisted in a certain way, the entire figure would pivot to reveal a chamber behind.
Leng Yue, trembling, braced herself against a pillar. In the flickering torchlight, she glimpsed the same outlines—once Li Wei's vision suffused space, the walls and mechanisms glowed like constellations. She whispered, "By my blood … I see it too." Her heart thundered in her ears.
Li Wei drew a quiet breath and released the beam. The third eye collapsed as though mist being sucked back, and silence returned. He opened his eyes, scanning the room again—now armed with the knowledge of its hidden skeleton.
Leng Yue recovered her composure. She moved to a brazier nearby, its flame dancing. She lifted her sleeve and fanned the flame toward a narrow gap in the wall panel that Li Wei's vision indicated. A loose stone shifted. She pressed, listening to the grinding of stone against stone. ~ grrr… ~
A panel slid inward, revealing a small cavity. Inside: a cylindrical rod of pale jade, engraved with the same hieroglyphs from the walls, and a small orb humming with latent energy. Leng Yue's breath caught. She withdrew her hand gently, cradling the rod and orb. The bird ruffled its feathers slightly, the stone statue unaffected by mortal eyes.
Li Wei approached, crouching beside her. He dipped a finger into the cavity behind the panel and touched a slender conduit. There, he felt dampness, the trace of ancient condensate. He withdrew a finger smeared with fine residue. "This was sealed long ago," he said, "yet the mechanisms have not fully rusted. A guardian's hand remains."
Leng Yue held the orb close, her eyes wide. She glanced at Li Wei, lips parted: "The glyphs on this rod—they match the walls. We might now build our alphabet." She swallowed. "At last." Her voice was trembling, but elation filtered into it.
She turned to the bird. "Guide of spirits, what is your purpose now?" The bird bobbed its head. It hopped down from the statue's hand and alighted on the floor. It tread forward, across mosaic tiles, toward the newly revealed panel. It stopped, and with one claw tapped the jade rod. The orb glowed brighter. A low hum emerged. ~ hmmm… ~
Light surged from the rod into the conduit behind the wall. Machinery trembled. The chamber's mechanisms spun: gears rotated, pistons slid, valves clicked. ~ clank… click… hiss… ~ The stone walls vibrated. Dust fell from the ceiling like fine sand.
Leng Yue staggered, bracing against a pillar. Li Wei reached out to steady her. "Stand firm," he said, voice steady amid chaos. The ground beneath them pulsed in rhythm with the machinery.
Slowly, a section of wall across the chamber slid aside, revealing a tunnel beyond. Beyond that, darkness and the faint glint of something metallic. The beam of light from the orb extended into the corridor, guiding the way.
Leng Yue exhaled heavily. She touched her chest. "By Tian's will … this seems the entrance forward." She turned to Li Wei: "This is becoming more peculiar."
Li Wei nodded. He stood and took a tentative step. He looked back once at the statue—its eyes blank, its silk-patterned robe unmoved. Whether it was guardian or sentinel, he could not yet judge. "Let us proceed," he said quietly, offering his hand to Leng Yue.
They moved into the newly revealed passage, the humming rod lighting their steps. The bird followed, wings tucked, tail feathers brushing the stone. Behind them, the mechanisms continued their slow dance, sealing the chamber behind them with a distant thud. ~ thud… ~
As they advanced into the corridor, Li Wei's mind raced. If this statue pivoted, then there must be more chambers like this ahead. And the inscriptions—each room might change the cipher. We must partition our understanding room by room.
He stole a glance at Leng Yue, whose face was pale but focused. She will make the transcription, I will chart the path. Together they walked into the darkness, the orb's glow their only guide.