The horns had gone silent, but the glow of the stones remained—flat, black shapes just beneath the water's luminous surface, each one a solitary island in a sea of starlight. Mist curled around them in slow veils, and above the cavern roof glimmered with faint pinpricks, like a reversed night sky. Every sound—the drip of water, the cage's faint chiming—echoed and came back warped, as though the air itself remembered different voices.
Aric stepped onto the first stone. It was cold and dry beneath his boots despite the glowing water lapping at its edges. His reflection stared up at him from the surface: pale eyes, dark coat, the Mirror glinting at his side. Around that reflection swam shapes that weren't there—flickers of other faces, hints of other lives.
Lyra hesitated at the edge. "I hate this already."
"You hated the tunnel," Aric said without looking back. "And the courtyard."
"I hate everything that smells like drowning." Her voice was brittle. "What if the stone sinks?"
"It won't." He thought, 'It can't. Not if we stay anchored.' Out loud he said, "Stay on the black. Don't touch the glow. Name your anchor with each step."
She breathed out, then stepped after him. Her threads quivered around her wrists like nervous snakes. The stone held.
They started forward, one stone at a time. The gaps were not wide at first—easy hops of a stride or two. The water glowed and shifted between them, rising in little tongues as if curious. On the third stone the air grew warm and sweet. A smell drifted up: cinnamon bread and crushed roses.
Lyra stopped. "That smell…"
"What do you see?" Aric asked, already checking the Mirror.
"Not see. Hear." She swallowed. "My brother. He's calling my name."
She turned toward the water. In the glow, shapes had coalesced—a tall figure standing waist-deep, hair slicked to his face, holding out a hand. "Lyra," it called softly. "You don't have to run anymore."
She took a half-step forward.
Aric's voice snapped like a whip. "Anchor. Now."
Her eyes fluttered. She murmured her full Name and Path under her breath. The shape in the water flickered, then dissolved into mist. The sweet smell faded. Lyra gasped and clutched her chest.
He thought, 'Good. It's illusions first. Temptations.'Aloud he said, "Don't answer anything in the water. It'll offer what you want."
Lyra gave a shaky laugh. "Great pep talk."
They moved on. The fourth stone was slicker; Aric crouched, brushing his fingers over it. Under the black surface he felt carvings—spirals, like the dais. He whispered his Name. The Mirror hummed faintly, a map of light unspooling in his head.
The water hissed. This time Aric heard his own name whispered back, in a voice like velvet. 'Aric… you've almost found it. The Key. All you need to do is step closer…'
He saw himself reflected—not as he was but as he wanted to be: powerful, the Mirror a crown in his hand, a thousand gates open before him. His heart hammered.
He forced a breath. 'No. Anchor.'He spoke his Name aloud. The vision shattered, leaving only glowing ripples.
Lyra smirked weakly. "Was she pretty?"
"Was who?"
"Whoever you almost stepped in for."
He managed a thin smile. "I'm insulted you think I'm that easy."
"I know you're that easy," she said, and the tiny joke cracked the tension between them for a moment. The fragment-child chimed faintly, as if laughing too.
They jumped to the fifth stone. The gap was larger now—Lyra used her threads like a rope, flicking them to the far edge and pulling herself across. Aric landed beside her, boots skidding. The mist had grown thicker; the roof was lost from view. Shapes moved at the edges of sight—pale arches, toppled statues, glimpses of rooms drowned long ago.
"This used to be a city," Lyra murmured.
Aric touched a broken column jutting from the water, black stone veined with blue. "Or a grave."
From below came a slow ripple. The water bulged and hissed. Both of them froze.
A long, dark tendril slid just under the surface, parallel to the stones. It didn't break the water, but the glow dimmed wherever it passed, like ink spreading.
Lyra whispered, "Tell me that's normal."
"It's watching," Aric murmured back. 'Collector? Another piece of the Landlord?'
The tendril circled and then sank. The glow returned.
They jumped to the next stone quickly. The gap was wider still. The air had cooled again; this time the smell was rain on dry earth. Aric's boots splashed faintly as he landed—he looked down and saw that the stone's centre was etched with a Name he didn't recognise, old letters half-erased.
Lyra crouched to trace it. "Someone else crossed before us."
"Or tried," Aric said.
Behind them, the first few stones were already sinking slowly into the water, dissolving like sugar. He glanced at Lyra. "We keep moving. No stopping for daydreams."
"Yes, Captain Vale." She threw him a mock salute, and her grin—quick, feral—was such a contrast to the mist that for a moment he almost laughed.
They moved again. The fragment-child chirped, a note of warning. The mist ahead shifted, parting to reveal more stones—but the gaps were no longer even. Some were far apart, others offset. And between them the water glowed brighter, almost blinding.
Lyra shaded her eyes. "It's worse ahead."
Aric tightened his grip on the Mirror. 'The Domain's testing us harder the farther we go. Good. Tests have rules.'He said, "Stay close. Name every step. If you see me start to step off, pull me back. Same for you."
She nodded.
They stood on the edge of the next leap, staring at the jagged path disappearing into mist and starlight. Somewhere far out in the water a horn sounded once, deep and low.
Lyra whispered, "I hate your vacations."
Aric smirked. "Wait till you see the gift shop."
She snorted, the sound sharp in the silence, and then they jumped.