The pool's surface rippled as Mo and Aylen approached, the quiet disturbance sending faint waves across the black water. A chill settled deep in Mo's bones, not from the cold, but from the weight of what lay beneath.
He crouched again, eyes scanning the swirling shadows just below the surface. The Azure Shamshir pulsed softly against his skin—a steady heartbeat, as if the blade was alive and sensing the chamber's secret.
"Do you feel it?" Aylen's voice was a whisper, close enough that Mo could see the tension pulling at the corners of her mouth.
He nodded, gripping the sword's hilt tighter. "Like the earth itself is breathing down our necks."
Without warning, the water stirred violently, erupting upward in a sudden geyser. Mo barely leapt back in time, blade raised, as a figure rose from the depths—tall, lithe, and wrapped in swirling water that shimmered with iridescent light.
Her eyes, deep and stormy, locked onto Mo's with an unsettling calm. "You who wield the Azure Shamshir," she said, voice like the ripple of waves on stone, "what is it you seek in the veins of the forgotten?"
Mo kept his stance steady, muscles coiled but not rigid. "I seek what was taken, and what must be restored."
She studied him for a long moment, the water around her stilling like glass. "Many have come, hungry for power, but few understand the cost."
Aylen shifted beside him, ready, but Mo held up a hand. "We're not here to take recklessly. We're here to reclaim."
The water-woman smiled, faint and knowing. "Then prove it. The path forward is not forged with steel alone."
Before Mo could ask what she meant, the water receded, leaving a shimmering doorway etched in the cavern wall—ancient runes glowing faintly along its frame.
Mo exchanged a look with Aylen, then stepped forward, the Shamshir leading the way.
Whatever waited beyond that threshold wasn't just a test of strength. It was a trial of will, trust, and the truths buried beneath layers of stone and silence.