Nysha nudged Lindarion. "You recognize this, don't you?"
He didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to kneel and place a hand on the stone edge.
The instant he touched it, the stone pulsed.
A single echo through the ravine like a heartbeat.
The others stepped back instinctively.
Ashwing squeaked, "Nope. Nope nope nope—"
But Lindarion didn't move.
Because he did recognize it.
"Blackstone," he whispered. "Titan-forged."
Nysha stiffened. "No titan worked this deep."
"Not a titan," Lindarion said quietly. "A progenitor."
Vaelion swore softly. "Those are myths."
"Everything's becoming less myth by the hour," Seris muttered.
Then—
The stone split.
Not cracked.
Not crumbled.
Split open like an iris widening.
Blackstone petals withdrew, folding outward to form a stairway leading down into the ravine's throat. Each step glowed faintly with blue sigils, illuminating a path that absolutely should not exist.
Nysha flinched. "It reacted to you."
