Nytheris's voice followed him only as the moss began to seal the chamber again.
"Next time, it will ask."
And Lindarion didn't say a word.
Because he already knew.
It had asked just now.
And part of him—
had listened.
—
The door sealed behind him with the sound of wind drawing back from stone.
No lock. No clang. Just stillness.
Lindarion stood at the top of the sloped tunnel again. The Garden, the pulse, the green, the black crystal, was behind him now.
But its weight hadn't left his chest.
Seraphine waited at the base of the stairs, standing at attention with her back to the wall, arms crossed. Her armor caught the light faintly from the inner mana veins running along the curved ceiling, casting short glints onto the floor.
Her eyes met his the moment he emerged.
She didn't ask what he saw.
She didn't need to.
Her gaze held a different question. One she wasn't sure she was allowed to ask.
Lindarion stopped three paces from her.
