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Chapter 11: Whispers in the Stone
The void between worlds held its breath.
The Beyond's light pulsed, a slow, rhythmic tide against the crushing dark. Tranceeds' form—a silhouette of devoured stars—did not so much as flicker. Yet the tension between them was a gravity well, bending the very concept of space around the eighteen thrones.
"You speak of burning the forest to save it," the Beyond's voice chimed, each word a note in a sorrowful symphony. "But what of the seeds in the soil? What becomes of them?"
The leader of Earth-7, his form a shifting mosaic of crystalline structures, spoke next. "The seeds you speak of are the mortals. They are resilient. They have to be."
"Or they perish," Tranceeds intoned, its voice the sound of granite grinding to dust. "That is the way of things. Your sentimentality is a leash, light-bearer. It prevents the necessary cut."
The flame leader roared, a brief supernova of fury. "We did not come here to debate philosophy while our worlds die! The Astral Flow must be united with the cataclysm force. Now."
A silence fell, deeper than the void itself. The Beyond's glow wavered, and for a moment, something like fear touched the edges of its magnificent presence.
"Very well," it whispered. "We shall prepare the fusion. But know this… once joined, this power cannot be unrung. It will seek a conduit. It will seek a balance of its own choosing."
And in the silence that followed, a single thought passed between all present: What have we done?
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The Snake Dungeon did not offer comfort. It offered a false, bioluminescent quiet, the kind that made the scuttling of unseen things in the shadows all the more pronounced.
Talia's breathing had evened out, the ragged edge of pain softened by sleep and the lingering warmth of Kael's Astral Flow. Her head still rested against his shoulder, a weight he did not dare disturb.
Her words echoed in him, a tremor in his own foundations. I like you, Kael.
He had faced corrupted beasts and a woman who shattered mountains with a glance, but this—this simple admission—terrified him more. It was a vulnerability he hadn't accounted for, a thread of light in the dark that he was desperately afraid would be severed.
A soft, pained sigh escaped her lips. His eyes snapped to her face, but she was still asleep. The glow from the walls cast shifting patterns over her features, making her look both peaceful and haunted.
He had to get her out. He had to find Juno.
Gently, so gently, he shifted, easing her down to rest against the stone. He stood, his body protesting every movement, and approached the damp, scaled wall of their prison. He placed his palm against it. It was warm. Alive.
He pushed a thread of Astral Flow into the stone, not to break it, but to listen.
And the wall whispered back.
It wasn't a language. It was a feeling—a deep, resonant hunger, an ancient malice that slept beneath the dream realm itself. And it was stirring.
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The smell of herbs was a tangible comfort, a shield against the memory of psychic violation.
Juno swung her legs over the side of the cot, ignoring the dull throb in her temples. "Okay, Healer Boy. Babysitting time is over. Where are my friends?"
Calyx didn't look up from the mortar and pestle he was grinding, the rhythmic crunch filling the small chamber. "Direct. I appreciate that. They're in the Snake Dungeon. Or what's left of it after your friend decided to redecorate with astral energy."
Juno's blood went cold. "Talia… is she…?"
"Alive. As of a few hours ago." He finally met her gaze, his eyes startlingly calm. "Kael is with her. He's keeping her stable. But the dungeon… it's changing. The corruption there is evolving. It's not just a place anymore. It's becoming a throat."
She stared at him, the metaphor sinking in with a dread she could taste. "We have to go. Now."
"We will," he said, setting the pestle down. "But you're not ready. And neither am I." He held up a hand before she could protest. "That thing—the Lady—she didn't just attack you physically. She scarred your dream-self. Your connection to the Astral Flow is frayed. If you try to channel it now, it might unravel completely."
He stood and walked to a cabinet, pulling out two vials filled with a liquid that swirled with tiny, silver sparks. "So. We do this my way. We prepare. Or we die the moment we step out of this room."
Juno wanted to argue, to fight, to run. But the steady certainty in his voice held her still. For the first time, she saw past the dry humor to the resolve beneath. He wasn't just a healer. He was a strategist.
"What's in the vials?" she asked, her voice quieter.
Calyx offered her a grim smile. "A wake-up call."
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