The next morning, Cloudrest looked normal again.
Too normal.
The rain had stopped, the paths were dry, and the disciples were pretending they hadn't spent the night whispering about lightning that never struck.
Even Heaven's inspectors walked lighter, as if silence could erase what thunder had said.
But I knew better.
Silence never erased anything. It just buried it deeper.
I delivered the morning tea as usual, smiled at the guards, and made a note in my ledger that read:
Schedule emotional breakdown for later.
Then I took a different hallway.
The lower corridors of Cloudrest didn't get much sunlight. The air down there smelled like ink, dust, and old promises.
According to the old maps, there used to be a stairway leading beneath the mountain — sealed off after "structural instability."
Which, in Heaven's language, meant too many secrets for comfort.
I stopped at the end of the hall, where a wall met the floor in a perfect, seamless corner.
It wasn't seamless yesterday.
Someone had shifted the wards.
I pressed my palm to the stone. It pulsed faintly under my hand — slow, like breathing.
My charm, the one linked to the relic, answered with a quiet tremor against my chest.
"Alright," I whispered. "Show me what you're hiding."
A faint line of light traced itself along the floor, curved up the wall, and shaped a doorway where there hadn't been one.
The air that came out was cold enough to bite.
The passage led down in a spiral. The walls glowed faintly with old runes, faded to the color of ghosts.
I followed the sound of dripping water — steady, rhythmic, almost like a clock that had forgotten what time meant.
At the bottom, the tunnel opened into a round chamber.
No guards. No light. Just a pool in the center, black and still, reflecting the faint shimmer from the runes above.
When I stepped closer, the surface rippled.
And something moved beneath it.
A shimmer of gold flickered across the water — the same light the relic made when it woke.
Then came the reflections.
Not mine.
Not any face I recognized.
Just flashes — a woman's silhouette, a field of white clouds, the sound of laughter cut off by silence.
The images shifted too fast to catch, like memories slipping through fingers.
My heart pounded. "Stop," I whispered. "Slow down—"
The light stilled.
And for a moment, I saw a pair of eyes staring back at me through the water — calm, familiar, and heartbreakingly human.
Shen Qianhe's eyes.
Then the pool went dark.
I stepped back, breathing hard. The runes on the walls flickered once, as if sighing.
Above, faint footsteps echoed through the stone — measured, steady, coming closer.
Heaven's inspectors.
I turned, pressing my palm to the rune that marked the entrance. The wall sealed again with a low hum.
The air went still.
I flattened against the shadow as two figures passed the corridor above — Rui Yan and one of his aides.
"Envoy Yue reports unusual energy readings below the archives," Rui said. "She suspects interference."
"Do you want to investigate?"
"Not yet. The Sect Master's orders restrict entry."
"Do you think he's hiding something?"
Rui paused. "Everyone here is hiding something."
Their voices faded with their steps.
When they were gone, I let out the breath I'd been holding and looked once more at the sealed wall.
The relic's hum inside my chest hadn't stopped.
If anything, it was stronger now — like it had recognized what was beneath the mountain and wanted to answer it.
"I know," I whispered. "But if we both start talking, we're doomed."
The hum pulsed once in agreement. Or amusement. Hard to tell.
That evening, when I brought the tea to Shen Qianhe's study, he was already waiting.
"You went below," he said simply.
I froze. "You—how?"
"You smell of dust and ancient wards," he said, almost gently. "No one else goes near the old stairs."
"I was curious."
"Curiosity," he murmured. "That's what woke the first mirror, too."
He stood, walking past me to the window. The light outside was fading into soft purple, the kind that makes everything look unreal.
"What did you see?" he asked.
"Reflections," I said quietly. "Not mine."
His eyes flickered toward me. "Whose?"
"I don't know. Maybe yours."
The silence that followed felt heavier than thunder.
Then he said, "There are things under this mountain older than either of us. If Heaven finds them first…"
He didn't finish.
I looked at him. "Then what happens?"
He turned back toward the window. "Then Cloudrest stops existing."
I wanted to ask why, but the words caught in my throat.
The candle between us flickered — a small flame holding up two shadows that didn't belong in the same story.
Finally, I said, "If that's true, why tell me?"
He didn't look at me. "Because you're already part of it."
That night, I couldn't sleep again.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the pool — the eyes staring back, the faces shifting through water, the quiet hum beneath it all.
The relic's pulse echoed through my chest in time with the rain starting up again outside.
Soft. Steady. Relentless.
It was calling.
And part of me, the foolish part, wanted to answer.