Chapter 36. Chamber of Reflection

The stair turned inward until it forgot the sky. Each step down shed a little more sound, until even her breath sounded borrowed. Airenna’s lantern went dark at the threshold; she left it on a ledge, a promise that she’d be waiting when Lora climbed again. “Rest,” she had said. Her voice had no punctuation. Rest might mean listen. Rest might mean survive.

The chamber breathed different air—thin, mineral, old. The ceiling was a low dome ribbed with shallow veins of metal that glowed on their own, as though remembering lightning. The floor was water; a sheet only ankle-deep, but it carried weight like language. The surface reflected not light, but intention. She saw herself when she looked down, but only when she decided to.

The seal at her throat hummed softly, polite, as if asking whether this counted as prayer. It didn’t. She stepped into the water. The first ripple found the walls and returned slower than it should, a heartbeat behind itself. Even echoes hesitated here