The red water shivered.
A low hum rippled through the vast silence, faint at first—like the echo of a heart buried miles beneath the surface. Crystal had only just sat down upon the strange, yielding ocean when it began.
The world itself seemed to stir.
From somewhere far to her left, and somewhere equally far to her right, the blood-red expanse began to move. The motion was slow—circular waves rising and falling, parting as if something immense were waking beneath.
She froze, eyes widening.
At first it was only ripples. Then the surface broke. Dark shapes rose from the red depths, trailing streams of liquid that fell like ribbons.
The shapes grew, stretching higher and higher, until they towered over the horizon—two pillars of stone, one before her, one far behind. The sound was low and grinding, like mountains being dragged across glass.
When the last echo faded, stillness returned.
Crystal stood very small between them, a figure alone in an endless sea. There had been nothing moments ago—no sound, no form, no motion. And now there were statues.
The first stood far ahead, barely visible through the dim haze that clung to the horizon. The second loomed behind her, its outline sharper, darker, though she could not see its face.
Her pulse quickened.
She turned slowly in place, gaze moving from one monument to the other. They were silent, motionless, but the air felt heavier—thicker with something unseen, something aware.
"What is this place…" she murmured, her voice trembling just enough to make her aware she still lived.
The blood-moon above did not answer. Its light washed across the statues, casting long crimson reflections on the surface of the sea.
Crystal looked down. The water moved gently around her feet, but its depth was unknowable. She leaned forward slightly, trying to see beneath the surface.
Nothing.
It was as if the liquid swallowed its own light; the reflection of the moon sank only a few inches before dissolving into darkness. She could not tell if it was truly blood or something that merely wished to be.
A quiet dread coiled in her stomach. She felt as though she stood at the center of a dream that knew she didn't belong.
Still, she needed answers.
Her eyes fixed on the statue in front—the closer of the two—and she began to walk. The surface gave no resistance; each step sent out ripples that shimmered faintly under the moon's glow.
At first the statue appeared to grow larger. Then she realized it wasn't moving at all. She was.
She walked Faster. The statue did not draw closer.
Her breath caught; she tried again, breaking into a run. The sound of her steps scattered through the vast emptiness—splash, splash, splash—but the distance remained the same, eternal.
The horizon refused to bend. The statue stayed where it was, fixed and unreachable.
Her chest tightened with frustration. She ran until her lungs burned, until the air scraped her throat, until her reflection blurred with motion.
But the world did not change.
It was as if she were running on the image of water rather than the thing itself. No matter how far she moved, the statue drifted away with her—equal parts near and infinite.
At last she stopped. Her breath came harsh and shallow. She pressed a hand against her armor and closed her eyes.
Think.
This place had no logic, no direction. Forcing herself against it was like trying to fight fog.
Her mind reached back to memories long buried beneath duty and war. She remembered her master—an old cultivator who had once taught her beneath the silver trees of Elarion. Her voice echoed faintly in her mind, rough yet calm:
"Do not force what is not. Flow together with it."
She let the words settle.
Do not force. Flow.
Crystal exhaled slowly, steadying her heart. The pounding in her chest eased, the air grew lighter.
When she opened her eyes again, the red light seemed softer. The endless sea still stretched forever, but its rhythm felt slower, more deliberate—like breathing.
"All right," she whispered. "No forcing."
She sat once more, cross-legged, closing her eyes completely. The silence wrapped around her. Time, if such a thing existed here, passed unnoticed.
When she finally rose to her feet, she didn't look toward the statue. She simply began to walk.
No thought, no direction—only movement guided by something quieter than will. Her footsteps left faint ripples that faded almost instantly.
The moment she released her need to reach, the world shifted.
The distance between her and the statue began to shrink. It happened slowly at first—a trick of perception, maybe—but as she walked, the shape ahead grew clearer. Detail returned to stone.
A figure of a man. Tall, broad-shouldered. A wide-brimmed straw-metal hat rested on his head, its edge chipped as though it had endured storms.
A mask covered his face, sculpted into the visage of a demon—feral lines carved deep into the stone, fangs curling like frozen flame. Yet despite being rock, there was a life to it—a tension in the stance, a hum in the air.
In his hands he held a sword, its blade long and slender. The surface of the weapon gleamed with a darkness that drank the light around it, and faint arcs of energy coiled around the hilt, flashing blue, white before fading.
Behind the figure rose a halo, cracked and fractured, from which lightning whispered and vanished. The entire statue seemed moments away from moving, as if caught mid-breath.
Crystal stopped several paces away, staring up at it. Her heartbeat faster again—not in fear, but in awe.
It was only stone, yet she could feel its presence pressing down on her shoulders like weight. Power without voice, life without motion.
For a long time, she simply watched. The moonlight traced lines across the statue's face, across the demon mask, and the carved lightning in the halo seemed to pulse faintly in rhythm with her heartbeat.
She reached out a trembling hand. Her fingers brushed the cold surface.
The moment contact was made, a surge ran through her—soft but undeniable, like the echo of something ancient recognizing her. The mask's eyes flared blue for a heartbeat, casting light over her face.
Crystal gasped and stepped back. The light vanished. Only silence remained.
She blinked, waiting, but nothing else happened. The statue stood as it had before—silent, still, unknowable.
Cautiously, she reached out again. Her fingertips met stone.
Cold.
Lifeless.
The connection was gone.
Her brow furrowed. Whatever link she had felt, it had slipped away like smoke between her fingers.
She lingered there for a moment longer, searching the empty expression of the demon mask, but there was no answer—only the faint hum of energy fading into the blood-red air.
With a final glance, she turned. Behind her, far across the ocean's surface, the second statue waited.
At first it seemed distant, but when she took her first step toward it, the world did not resist. The sea stayed calm; the distance began to close naturally, as though this part of the void accepted her movement.
She walked in silence. Her armor whispered faintly with each motion. The reflection of the red moon stretched across the water like a path guiding her forward.
Her mind churned quietly—half dread, half curiosity. The first statue had felt alive. What of the second?
The closer she came, the stronger the air grew—dense and heavy, humming faintly with an emotion she couldn't name. It pressed against her skin, filled her chest, tangled with her heartbeat.
When she finally reached it, the red light from above dimmed, as though the moon itself bowed to whatever presence stood before her.
Crystal lifted her eyes.
And what she saw—
stole the breath from her lungs, froze her thoughts, and left her utterly, completely speechless.