The reflection did not speak. It never did. It simply raised its arm and pointed, two fingers extended, toward a corridor that should not have existed.
It was long.
Too long.
A straight, narrow passage carved cleanly into the living cave, its edges sharp and unmistakably man-made, as if someone had forced order into a place that despised it. The glass walls of the cavern stopped abruptly at its mouth, replaced by dark stone blocks fitted together with obsessive precision.
No moss.
No cracks.
No natural curves.
Just stone, pressed tight against stone, swallowing light whole. The corridor looked less like a path and more like a wound cut into the world.
The reflection turned its hand palm-up and curled its fingers once.
Go.
I hesitated only long enough to acknowledge the fear blooming in my chest. Then I stepped forward.
