The staircase swallowed them.
Each step down felt like falling.
Not through space, but through memory.
Time blurred. Light no longer behaved the same. It flickered, pulsed, bent. At some point, Aksara realized he could no longer hear his own footsteps.
The walls around them were carved, but not by tools. They were shaped by intention. By thought.
Murals lined the descent, shifting things that whispered as you passed.
Not in words, but in feeling. Images of winged figures burning, not from hellfire, but from understanding. Of halos splitting like glass. Of truth taking form, and then being unmade.
Taufik slowed.
The System pulsed within him. Quiet. Uneasy. It felt like a child remembering a trauma it never lived.
"Do you feel it?"
Taufik asked, not turning back.
Aksara didn't answer, but he nodded. Even Lembuswana had lowered his gaze, his breathing slower.
They continued to walk, and then, at some point, they reached a platform.
