The cave swallowed them whole.The soft blue glow of the river lit the walls, painting them in shifting light like gentle lightning. Every drop echoed — one sound turning into many — until it felt like they were walking through the heartbeat of the world itself.
Kael held a torch, though he didn't need it. The light of the river seemed to know where they were going, curving ahead of them like a path of memory.
Seren looked around, bow ready. "It feels… alive. Like the cave is breathing."
"It is," Kael said quietly. "Everything that remembers is alive."
Lira trailed behind, fingers brushing the stone. Strange marks ran along the walls — circles, spirals, eyes, and hands that looked half human, half flame.
"What do these mean?" she asked.
Kael stopped and traced one of the carvings. His touch made it shimmer faintly.
"They're older than kingdoms," he murmured. "Older than words. Maybe this place was the world's first temple — not to worship gods, but to understand them."
Seren frowned. "Understand gods? I thought gods were supposed to understand us."
Kael smiled faintly. "That's the trick, isn't it? Maybe gods are just the echoes of what we believe most."
They walked for hours. The tunnel sloped downward, and the air grew colder.At last, the passage opened into a vast underground chamber. The roof soared high, covered in crystals that caught the blue light and turned it into stars.
Lira gasped. "It's like the night sky is inside the earth."
Kael nodded slowly. "The Pond of Stars… maybe this is where it began."
In the center of the chamber, a pool of still water lay waiting. Its surface was perfectly smooth, like a mirror. When they looked into it, they didn't see their own faces — they saw the world above: forests, storms, oceans, and fires.
But beneath all that, something darker stirred.
"Look," Seren said softly, pointing at the far wall.
Paintings covered it from floor to ceiling — not carved, but made from glowing minerals. They told a story in pictures.
At first, there was only light — stars falling like rain, giving life to rivers and mountains. Then came shapes of people, hands raised toward the sky. They built towers, cities, weapons.
Next, a dark circle appeared — a burning eye in the center of their dreams.
Lira whispered, "That's it. The Eye."
But the next scene made them pause. The people were creating the Eye — shaping it out of fear, anger, and sorrow. They knelt before it, but it wasn't born from heaven. It was born from them.
Kael's voice was low. "It wasn't a god at all… it was a mirror."
Seren stepped closer. "So all the evil in the world — it came from what people refused to face inside themselves?"
Kael nodded. "They gave their fear a name, then bowed to it."
The cave began to hum softly, as if the paintings themselves remembered being watched.
Kael turned toward the pool again. "The Eye was never outside of us. It's inside — the part that hungers to control, to burn, to forget."
He leaned over the water. His reflection trembled, then split — two faces, both his own. One calm and human. The other cold, golden, almost divine.
Lira reached for him. "Kael, don't—"
But before she could stop him, a voice rose from the pool — soft, deep, and terrible.
"Why do you search for what you already are?"
The surface rippled. The golden reflection spoke, its eyes glowing like fire under water.
"You were the first spark, Kael. You lit the path. You gave the Eye a body."
Kael stepped back, trembling. "No. That's not true. I fight against it."
"You are it," said the voice. "Every act of mercy you give is born from your guilt. Every kindness, from your fear of becoming me."
Lira shouted, "Stop! He's not you!"
The reflection smiled. "You think light and shadow can be separated? One cannot exist without the other."
The pool surged upward, splashing like rain, showing flashes of memories — Kael in battle, his sword burning with power, people calling his name as savior… and destroyer.
He fell to his knees, clutching his head. "I don't want this!"
Lira knelt beside him. "Kael, listen to me. Maybe you did help create it once — but that means you can unmake it too."
Her voice trembled but didn't break. "The Eye is made from fear. You can't destroy fear — but you can forgive it."
Kael stared at her, eyes wide. Then slowly, he placed his hand on the water again.
This time, it didn't burn. The reflection softened, fading into ripples.
"If I forgive the darkness in me," he whispered, "maybe the world will forgive itself."
The pool glowed white. For a moment, the entire cavern shone like a sun buried beneath the earth.
When the light faded, the walls had changed. The murals now showed a figure standing between the people and the Eye — not fighting it, but closing it gently, like shutting tired eyes.
Seren whispered, "You changed the story."
Kael looked up. "No," he said softly. "We just remembered the part that was forgotten."
They left the chamber in silence. The air outside the cave was cool, touched with morning light. Birds sang in the distance.
Lira smiled faintly. "Maybe this place remembered something too."
Kael nodded. "Then let's carry that memory with us — not as a burden, but as a seed."
He looked back once more. The entrance glowed softly behind them, as though the river itself was breathing a gentle farewell.
"The Eye was born from fear," he said quietly, "but fear is just a wound waiting to be healed."