The corridor beyond the crescent gate was impossibly smooth.
No tool had carved it, and yet no natural shift of rock could have shaped walls so even, so gently curved. The air was colder here—not freezing, just precise. Clean, filtered through layers of something old and invisible.
The faint glow of emberglass veins illuminated the path, but even that felt... respectful. As if the light itself didn't want to push too far ahead of Riku's steps.
They walked in silence.
Kael walked beside Riku, glancing every few steps toward the gauntlet on his liege's arm. The dull black metal looked inert, yet Kael had seen how it flexed to the hand, how it pulsed at touch, like an artifact halfway between tool and tether.
Sira led the vanguard, blades sheathed but fingers resting lightly on the hilts. Her steps were quieter than shadow.
None of them spoke until the corridor widened. Not into a room—but into a lung.
That's what it looked like.
The chamber curved inward and upward, narrowing at the top like a ribcage. The floor sloped gently down into a cradle-shaped platform, and at its center hovered something that should not hover.
A stone. Fist-sized. Floating precisely a hand's height above the cradle. It neither spun nor bobbed. It simply stayed.
Its surface was rough, pitted like volcanic rock, but it gave off no heat. No pressure. Just presence.
But Riku felt it.
Even from the lip of the platform, something in his chest responded. Not pain. Not even discomfort. Just... alignment.
His breath matched the stone's invisible rhythm.
He stepped forward.
Kael made to follow, but Riku lifted a hand. Not in warning. In understanding.
"I need to walk this part alone."
Sira didn't move. She simply nodded once and folded her arms, eyes fixed ahead.
As Riku approached, the gauntlet pulsed again. Not with light this time—but with temperature. The fingertips warmed just slightly. As though in greeting.
The stone didn't react.
Not at first.
But when he reached the cradle and stopped before it, something subtle changed.
There was no sound. But his ears rang.
A pressure behind his eardrums. Like standing beneath thunderclouds that hadn't cracked yet.
He raised his gauntleted hand.
No ritual. No flare of power.
Just breath.
He exhaled.
The stone inhaled.
The pulse passed through the floor like a ripple. The veins in the stone beneath his boots flared amber, then faded.
And with that, the stone lowered itself. Slowly. Gradually.
Until it sat in the cradle like a resting heart.
Riku bent his head.
Not out of reverence. But because he understood something now—deep in the body, not the mind.
This wasn't a relic.
This was a memory.
The last trace of something that had once ruled through connection, not war. And it had been waiting.
Not for a wielder.
For a listener.
Behind him, Kael stepped close to the rim.
"Do you feel that?" he whispered.
Sira said nothing.
Kael placed a hand against the wall. "The gauntlet's resonance is harmonizing with... the entire Hollow. Subsurface pulse readings are shifting. It's not random."
Sira frowned. "Then what?"
Kael hesitated. "It's... emotional."
That made Riku turn.
Kael wasn't one to use vague words. Not unless there was no other language available.
Riku stepped back from the cradle.
The gauntlet's glow faded.
The memory stone now rested without hum, quiet as sleep.
But the chamber didn't seal.
Instead, the walls pulled back—just slightly. Enough to reveal passageways branching outward like roots. Six in total.
Each one pulsed with a slightly different color. Amber. Red. Green. Deep violet. Pale blue. And one... entirely dark.
"Options," Sira said behind him.
"Or trials," Kael murmured.
Riku didn't move yet. He stood at the center, surrounded by stillness that felt anything but lifeless.
He reached for his belt and drew the map-scribe—a flat, rune-inscribed plate used to trace passages.
He handed it to Kael. "Start from here. Record each branch. We'll sweep clockwise."
Kael nodded and activated the scribe.
Sira turned to Riku. "If they lead to what the gauntlet wants... what if they change you?"
Riku met her eyes.
"That's the point."
They stepped into the first passage.
The walls pulsed once in reply.
Behind them, the stone kept breathing.