The seas shudder. Not with storm, nor beast, but something older. Weight moves through the world.
The Stone-Beast, silent beneath leagues of pressure, draws closer to the Tide woven Pavilion's foundation — not in haste, but with purpose. Coral reefs fracture in its wake. Bioluminescent creatures scatter. Even the Leviathan, half-liberated and vengeful, turns from its spiral, sensing something that does not yield to flesh or abyss.
And then — a shimmer in the water ahead.
A figure stands suspended in the currents. Rigid posture. Flowing white-blue robes embroidered with fractal spirals of ink. Her eyes are closed, hands locked in a sigil of stillness.
Disciple Vorrin of the Veiled Current, Pavilion Gatekeeper.
She floats between the approaching colossus and the Pavilion's outer ward stones, like a candle before a landslide.
The Stone-Beast slows. Only slightly.
Vorrin opens her eyes. "You do not belong to the Hollow… yet you are not born of this ocean," she murmurs.
The creature says nothing, but the waters vibrate around it — words not spoken, but felt:
"The Crown wakes. The fire runs free. I walk where I must."
Its voice is ancient tectonics, the memory of mountains cracking in silence.
Vorrin tightens her stance, summoning a shield of woven tide-runes around her form. The Pavilion does not strike first. But neither does it yield.
"Then declare your purpose," she says, her voice steady despite the pressure mounting.
"I seek the fire bearer," it responds. "If he burns without balance, I will return him to stone."
The runes flicker in hesitation. Vorrin glances back — toward the inner sanctum. She can feel Feng Xian's flame, even from here. And she knows what this means.
She does not yet know the full truth. But she knows enough.
The waters freeze between them.
The Stone-Beast lowers its head. Runes upon its shoulders glow faintly — not of magic, but memory. The first blow it sends forth is not with force, but a wave of presence. A pressure. A truth:
"Do you believe flame can be restrained?"
"Do you believe the old world can survive its return?"
Vorrin's shields ripple. But she holds.
The watchers from within the Pavilion — Luo Fen, Lan'Fei, Kai'ren — feel the weight echo outward, even though stone and water and silence.
Feng Xian feels it too. And though he cannot yet rise, his soul flame flickers in recognition.
"I will earn your passage," Vorrin says.
"Or you will face the Crown not as judge… but as challenger."
🏛️ Interlude: The Deep ward Hall of Currents — The Elders Converge
Beneath layers of coral stone and spell-glass, the Pavilion's most sacred chamber — the Deep ward Hall of Currents — throbbed with silent tension. Bioluminescent panels lit the walls with undulating waveforms, casting the Council of Nine Elders in ghostly hues of green and sapphire.
Above them, the image of the Stone-Beast shimmered across the scrying basin: its mountainous form facing Disciple Vorrin, who now stood like a single droplet daring to block a landslide.
The silence between the elders lasted four full tides.
Finally, Elder Nai-Shen, Matron of the Pearl Shard Doctrine, broke it. Her voice was crisp, laced with centuries of restraint.
"This construct… it is not born of the Hollow. But it carries judgment. A relic of older bindings."
Across from her, Elder Jirou of the Flood-Ward, leaned forward. His body was coiled with tidal tattoos that moved with his heartbeat.
"It seeks Feng Xian. It seeks the flame."
"If Vorrin falls, will it continue deeper?"
Elder Hama, whose blind eyes had long seen deeper truths, spoke from behind a veil of woven kelp thread.
"We built the Pavilion to preserve balance, not to entomb it in chains. If the Crown has called this guardian… then judgment must be allowed to walk its path."
Elder Osa, youngest among them and voice of the Pavilion's Horizon Reach Faction, interjected:
"And if that judgment kills Vorrin? Or worse — if it binds Feng Xian before we understand the truth of the flame he carries?"
"Are we to stand idle while balance is redefined without us?"
A ripple of tension echoed. The waters above the hall shimmered unnaturally — the Crown's flare pulsing even through the shields.
Then, from the Elder Throne — the central coral seat of the Pavilion — came the slow voice of Grandmaster Suien, who had not spoken in weeks.
"Let the stone judge. Let the disciple speak."
"If we interrupt now, we prove unworthy of both fire and tide."
"But mark me well—should either fall unjustly, the Pavilion will respond… with all the fury the seas can bear."
A final murmur passed among the nine.
Their decision was made.
They would not intervene.
But across the chambers, scrolls began unsealing, and Silent Currents Sect acolytes stirred — the Pavilion's hidden hand already moving beneath the waves.