The fissure's glow bled into Clara's palm, heatless but heavy, as though the stone itself had begun to breathe. Crimson light snaked across her skin like veins of molten glass, threading into her body without burning.
Her knees buckled. The hum surged from beneath the surface, rattling her bones with every beat. It wasn't pain—it was recognition. Like a heartbeat answering hers.
Damien grabbed her wrist instantly. "Clara! Let go—don't listen to it!"
"I'm not listening," she gasped, though the words sounded fragile even to her. Her eyes fluttered shut, body trembling as images flooded her mind. "It's… showing me."
Evelyn swore, stepping closer. "This looks exactly like listening. Pull her away before she explodes like a discount lightbulb."
Clara's breath came in shudders as the fissure's rhythm deepened. The glow spread across the cavern floor, forming spirals and lattices—sigils Yurin had carved, yet alive, breathing. The ground pulsed like flesh.
And then—clarity.
For a heartbeat, she wasn't in the cavern. She was above it. Her vision expanded, soaring through cracks that spiderwebbed across the continent. She saw fissures beneath forests, mountains, cities. She saw entire kingdoms resting unknowingly on fragile stone, their people walking markets and temples with no idea that veins of crimson hunger writhed just beneath their feet.
At the center of it all was a shape. Vast. Formless yet undeniable. The Architect. Its presence was like staring at the ocean through the eye of a storm—immense, infinite, uncontainable.
Clara's lips moved without her will. "It's everywhere…"
Damien shook her harder. "Clara! Stop!"
She tore her hand free from his grasp. "I can't! If I break away now, I'll lose it—this is what Yurin meant!"
Evelyn's eyes widened. "Oh no. She's starting to agree with him."
"I'm not agreeing!" Clara snapped, her voice trembling with something that wasn't entirely her own. "I'm… understanding. He isn't trying to destroy the world. He's… weaving it. Tearing it down to build something that can withstand this thing."
Her eyes glowed faintly, crimson light threading her pupils. "The Architect doesn't invade from the outside. It grows from within. And I'm the closest piece to its heart."
Damien's face hardened. "Then all the more reason to fight it. Not lean into it like he wants."
Clara shook her head. "Damien, don't you get it? Fighting is what feeds it. Every clash, every drop of conflict—it resonates with the fissures. That's why it grows."
The cavern trembled violently, punctuating her words. The glow spread further across the walls, carving new sigils in jagged spirals. The Architect's hum filled every breath of air, drowning out silence itself.
Evelyn grabbed Clara by the shoulders, voice sharp but not cruel. "Then answer me one thing, Crimson Girl. If you let this thing inside you take one more step, how do we know you'll come back? How do we know we won't lose you to it completely?"
Clara froze. The fissure's light pulsed brighter, as though waiting for her answer.
For a long, unbearable moment, she didn't speak. Her eyes glimmered with stormlight, her body trembling against the pull.
Finally—she whispered, "…because I still want to come back."
The fissure's hum cracked like thunder. The glow surged around her, wrapping her in spirals of crimson light. Damien raised his flame instinctively, Evelyn reached for her blade, but neither struck.
Clara lifted her hands. She wasn't being consumed—she was channeling. The light bent with her movement, curving into shapes that no longer felt like the Architect's domination but her will upon it. She was weaving.
She gasped, sweat streaking down her face. "I can bend it. Not silence it. Not destroy it. But redirect it."
Damien's eyes widened. "You're saying you can control it?"
Her hands shook. "No. Not control. Negotiate."
The fissure's hum deepened again, like a giant inhaling. Clara collapsed forward, severing her hand from the stone. The glow dimmed slightly, though it still pulsed faintly, alive beneath the cavern walls.
Her chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm. "It… it knows I touched it. It won't ignore me now."
Evelyn crouched at her side, watching her carefully. "You mean you just announced yourself to the ancient doom-whisperer like a beacon saying 'Hey, I'm here, please consume responsibly'?"
Clara managed a weak laugh. "Pretty much."
But the humor didn't last. Her gaze hardened, crimson still faint in her eyes. "I saw where it sleeps. The center. Yurin's threads are reaching for it. If he binds it before I do… then it won't be me the world answers to."
Damien set his jaw. "Then we reach it first."
The cavern quaked again, this time stronger. Dust rained from above, cracks opening wider. The fissures weren't patient anymore.
Clara stood shakily, supported by Damien and Evelyn on either side. Her voice was quiet, steady despite the fear in her bones.
"We don't have much time left. Yurin's not waiting for us—he's already moving. And now… so is it."