The cave did not collapse.
It reacted.
A deep vibration rolled through the stone beneath Arya's feet, subtle enough that an ordinary person might have mistaken it for imagination. But Arya knew better. He had felt this before, countless times, standing at the threshold of places that should not exist.
This was not a natural response.
This was recognition.
The faint mana he had sensed earlier thickened, swirling slowly through the air like invisible mist. It brushed against his skin, cold and ancient, carrying a weight that pressed against his chest. The cave walls shimmered faintly, the worn symbols carved into the stone responding to his presence.
Arya stepped forward carefully.
The deeper he went, the more the world outside seemed to fade. The illusion that wrapped the town, the warmth of home, the sound of ordinary life, all of it felt distant now, like a memory that did not quite belong to him.
The path widened suddenly.
