Inside the narrow throat of the cavern, Saan pressed onward. The walls curved like ribs, slick and sweating with condensed droplets that slid down in thin threads. The faint roar of a stream echoed somewhere beyond, a constant whisper beneath the stone, its voice merging with the slow rhythm of dripping water. The air was thick and metallic, tasting faintly of moss and rusted mineral.
The tunnel barely allowed them passage. At times they had to crouch low, their shoulders scraping against damp stone. Other times they had to turn sideways, exhaling as they squeezed through cracks too narrow for comfort. The fabric of their cloak dragged against the walls, wet patches clinging to the dark cloth. Every breath carried the cold scent of the underground.
Clusters of moss grew where water gathered most, glowing faintly green beneath the hovering light that Saan carried. The small orb of flame floated just ahead, bobbing with each cautious step. Its glow revealed the slick outlines of creatures wedged between cracks—long, segmented bodies like slicks, but with thin centipede legs scraping faintly against the rock. Their surfaces shimmered as they recoiled from the light, melting into the deeper darkness when the flame drifted near.
None dared approach as the warmth of fire was alien to them.
Saan's boots slipped on the mossy incline, their feet sliding down the rising slope. They pressed against the tunnel wall, adjusting their stance as a sudden gust of wind slammed into their back, shoving them forward and halting their slide. The violent rush of air tore at their cloak, making the heavy fabric snap and whip around their legs. The orb of flame danced erratically, sparks scattering in the narrow space, twisting with every chaotic swirl. Saan's wrist traced careful patterns, coaxing both elements into harmony. Slowly, the flames steadied, the wind gentled to a soft breeze, and the cloak, its fury spent, settled to a gentle, rhythmic flap before finally draping still against Saan's form, leaving the tunnel quiet once more.
They kept moving and after what felt like an hour, a faint amber glow appeared ahead. Warm light other than the reflection of their flame. As they drew closer the tunnel widened gradually until Saan could stand straight again. The air shifted, less confined but still heavy with moisture.
At the end of the tunnel, they saw the source.
A man sat upright in the center, his posture fixed as if in prayer. His skin was dry, tight against bone. He wore a robe of blue and white. Around his neck hung a large golden pendant that caught the light. Its craftsmanship far more intricate than the ones worn by the other followers of Yaxsim. The pendant's chain shimmered faintly, etched with words in curling script, "Yaxsim's Light guides us all, follow it."
At the pendant's tip rested a circular ruby, dull but still reflecting the faint glimmer of flame. Around the man's bald head burned a circle of living fire, each flicker forming small words that spun in rhythm with the flames themselves.
"Light of Yaxsim protect all, burn away darkness, burn away the illusion of lies, burn away the illusion of fear, burn away the illusions of doubt, burn away death and burn away the illusion of separation."
The light from that halo spread throughout the chamber, revealing the cavern beyond. It was vast and dome-shaped, no exits save the tunnel Saan had emerged from. The far end held a pond, its surface mirror-still except for the faint ripples caused by droplets falling from the ceiling. The water's color was a deep black, its depth impossible to see.
Saan lowered their gaze to the pendant and reached into their left pouch, tapping it twice. A soft click answered, unfolding it with mechanical precision. Inside rested four octagonal crystals—white, ruby red, bronze, and deep blue. Their edges shimmered faintly, catching the firelight.
They selected the ruby crystal and held it toward the floating orb of flame, which was drawn into it like a breath, folding and swirling until the crystal pulsed softly. Saan replaced it, closed the pouch with another double tap, and turned their attention back to the figure
As Saan gazed at the man, the air itself grew charged and heavy. The circle of fire flickered, its light wavering in response to the rising energy. For a moment, everything was still, save for the restless dance of the flames and the subtle, gathering ripple through Saan's cloak.
Then, wind coiled around their arm into a visible vortex, Saan's cloak snapping and flapping violently from the spinning current. With a sharp upward motion, a sphere of compressed air launched from their palm; the cloak, released from the vortex's pull, settled abruptly as the gust struck the ceiling with an echoing roar, shaking loose a hail of stones onto the man below.
Before they could land, the flaming halo above the man surged like a living sun. The ruby on his pendant ignited in tandem, spitting a torrent of fire that slammed into the falling rocks. The impact tore through the air with a symphony of destruction: a thunderous crack as stones exploded midair, hissing as molten shards hissed and twisted, and the sharp ping of smaller fragments ricocheting off the chamber walls. Some rocks melted entirely into glowing slag, dripping like molten metal before evaporating into smoke; others cracked apart with jagged edges, tumbling to the floor with a resonant thud.
The chamber shook under the roar of fire and stone, a chaotic orchestra of heat, light, and impact that made the very air tremble.
Saan's reflexes took over. They summoned their dome of swirling wind, and launched themselves forward, cracking the stone beneath their boots. Fiery debris rained down, glancing off the dome's surface, deflecting harmlessly into the surrounding walls.
They closed the distance and reached for the pendant.
A voice broke through the chaos, not from the man, but from the flames themselves. It was not human. It was sound shaped by movement, by the crackle and rhythm of burning.
"Stop," it said, its voice distorted.
Saan froze but didn't release the pendant. The flames twisted, forming the vague outline of a humanoid shape within their glow.
"I will break it if you resist," Saan warned.
The flames flickered rapidly, as though gasping. "No, stop... I will stop." The figure recoalesced into a steadier shape, a tall form of living fire that hovered near the corpse. "Here, I have made it easier for you to see me."
"What is your purpose?" Saan asked, eyes unblinking.
"I am the spirit of Saint Lumin," the being replied, his voice carried by the soft flicker of each flame. "He gave me command to protect his body until someone from the House of Truth would come to retrieve it."
"What was he doing here?"
"He was searching for a relic thought lost by the first Saint of the House of Truth. Months ago, when he arrived through a different tunnel—the very one you came from—he found it flooded. While investigating the pond that supposedly led to the relic, something struck from within it. We never saw it fully emerge; it attacked using only the water of the pond. The ensuing struggle caused the tunnels to collapse, trapping him here, where he starved to death before the waters in your tunnel finally receded."
Saan's gaze lingered on the corpse, the faint pity in their eyes quickly replaced by calculation. They released the pendant. "You can come with me. When we meet the members of the House of Truth, you'll tell them about Saint Lumin. In return, you'll fulfill one request and assist me until that goal is complete."
The spirit was silent. Only the sound of dripping water and faint crackling filled the air.
At last, he spoke, his tone lower now. "Very well. But if you stray from Saint Lumin's path or threaten his memory, I will not hesitate to act."
"Understood," Saan said, their voice calm and even.
They reached down and unhooked the pouch from Saint Lumin's sash.
"Hey, what are you doing?" the spirit asked.
"Do you want his body to be devoured by the creatures in this cave?" Saan replied, untying the pouch. Inside lay fine red dust, faintly warm to the touch.
"Oh… I see," said the fire spirit.
Saan poured it in a ring around the body. The fire spirit drifted closer, extending tendrils of flame that touched the dust. Each grain ignited, forming a circle of gentle fire that surrounded the corpse in quiet reverence.
"We should hurry before the flames go out," said the spirit. "I don't want his body taken by the thing in the water."
Saan turned their gaze toward the pond. It was still. Only the soft plink of falling droplets disturbed its surface. "Tell me more," Saan said, removing the pendant and holding it carefully.
"I cannot say much, for it is unknown even to us, but Saint Lumin believed that beneath the pond lay a gateway to the relic. When we approached, something attacked, a jet of water, sharp as a spear," said the spirit.
Saan dropped the pendant into the now-empty pouch that had held the red dust and hooked it securely to their belt.
"He countered with fire, yet the flames struck the water and turned to steam. He realized then that the pond itself was alive. When he tried to retreat, the creature lashed out, collapsing the tunnels. We were sealed inside," the fire spirit continued.
"How did it respond when you attacked?" Saan asked, in a steady tone.
"There was... movement. Much of it. The water churned violently, then grew calm," said the spirit.
Saan stood up and began moving toward the pond, the wind barrier shifting to align before him. The air around him pulsed faintly, taut with restrained pressure.
"What are you doing?" asked the spirit, his flames rising in unease.
"Testing it," Saan said, stopping a short way from the pond. "Attack the pond."
The spirit hesitated. "Are you certain?"
"Yes," Saan replied, calm and steady.
The fire spirit surged ahead, hovering before the pond. A burst of flame shot from it, hissing as it struck the water. Steam exploded outward, but Saan's wind barrier deflected it cleanly. Beneath the mist, the pond stirred as something deep within shifted, a pulse moving through the darkness below.
Then stillness.
Only the sound of dripping water and the soft flapping of Saan's cloak remained. The spirit hovered over Saan, uneasy.
The pond shuddered violently, ripples racing outward as something stirred below. Suddenly, an explosive burst of pressure split the surface, sending a narrow, forceful beam of water blasting upward, hissing like a jet of steam. It shot through the air with a deafening rush, spray trailing behind as the beam hurtled toward Saan.