The entrance was not where Aurelia expected it to be.
It was not a door, or a tunnel, or anything that resembled intention. It was a fracture—thin, uneven, cutting through the stone beneath the trial grounds like a scar that had never been allowed to heal. The edges of it glowed faintly, not with light, but with absence, as if the world had forgotten how to fill that space.
Aurelia stood at its edge, the air around her heavy and still.
Below, darkness waited.
Not empty darkness.
Occupied.
The power beneath her skin stirred uneasily, no longer calm, no longer simply present. It pulled downward now, drawn toward the fracture with unmistakable insistence.
Mira stopped beside her. "This isn't a path," she said quietly. "It's a wound."
Aurelia nodded. "That's why it leads somewhere."
