The new path stretched ahead in a long curve that slanted downward. The ground grew softer with each step, almost sponge-like beneath Ravel's boots. Strange blue fungi lined the walls of the corridor, glowing faintly. Their light pulsed in a rhythm that matched the sphere's heartbeat.
Seris noticed it immediately. "The forest is syncing itself to the sphere. That is not something it should be able to do."
Ravel kept his hand over the sphere. "Is that bad?"
"Not yet. But it means we are being guided with intention, not instinct." She scanned the corridor. "We need to stay alert. When the forest becomes too focused, something else is usually watching through it."
Ravel felt the roots underfoot shift again. This time it was not subtle. A long thick root slid sideways like a snake and carved a new pattern into the soil.
"I do not like this," he whispered.
"You do not have to." Seris walked ahead. "But keep moving. If the forest wants us to reach the Weeping Crown, it will not let us stop."
The corridor sloped deeper and deeper into the earth. The light from above disappeared. The blue fungus grew brighter, clustered like tiny lanterns that guided the way forward. The air became cool and damp. Ravel felt droplets fall from the roots above and splash onto his shoulders.
Seris slowed. Her eyes narrowed. "We are entering one of the lower rings."
"Rings?"
"Levels of the forest. The surface is the First Ring. The hollows we passed through before were the Second. This is the Third."
"And what lives in the Third Ring?"
Seris hesitated. "Things that prefer darkness."
Ravel stopped walking. "That tells me nothing."
Seris sighed. "All right. Things that do not like being seen."
"Oh. That is worse."
"Yes."
They continued forward until the corridor widened into a vast underground chamber. The ceiling rose high above them, covered in twisting roots that resembled massive ribs. Pools of still water dotted the floor. Thin mist drifted around the pools in slow spirals.
At the far end of the chamber stood a stone archway covered in vines. Its shape reminded Ravel of a crown laid sideways, the vines dripping down like tears. The stone glowed faintly with silver patterns.
Seris pointed. "That is part of the Weeping Crown."
Ravel stepped closer. "That? It is just an archway."
"It is an entrance," Seris said. "The actual Crown is deeper. This is its threshold."
As they approached, the vines covering the arch trembled. Droplets of water fell from them, even though no moisture touched the ceiling.
Ravel watched a droplet fall. It hit the ground. The sound echoed far louder than a drop of water should.
Seris tensed. "The echoes are too sharp. Something beneath us is awake."
Ravel turned. "Another Sentinel?"
"No. Worse."
Before she could explain, the water in the nearest pool rippled. Then another. Then another. Ravel stepped back. The surface of each pool began to vibrate like a drum being struck in slow pulses.
Seris drew her sword. "Stay behind me."
Ravel obeyed instantly.
The water in the largest pool rose upward, pulled by an unseen force. It lifted into a shape, towering and fluid. Droplets slid into place until the form resembled a tall figure made entirely of shifting water.
Its head tilted without eyes. Waves rolled across its body like breath.
Ravel felt the sphere pulse once. A reaction. But not fear.
Seris whispered, "A Weeper."
Ravel swallowed. "A what?"
"One of the guardians of the Crown. They guard memory. They guard loss." Seris raised her sword a little higher. "And they test anyone who enters."
The creature moved with slow and graceful steps toward them. It made no sound. Yet every ripple of its body echoed through the chamber.
Ravel stepped back again. "It does not look friendly."
"It is not hostile," Seris said. "But it is not gentle either."
The water figure paused a few steps away. For a moment it simply stood there, towering over them. Then its entire form shuddered. Water slid off its limbs and reformed behind it in a series of symbols, shifting into circular patterns similar to those Ravel had seen in the Heartforge.
Seris stared. "It is speaking."
"I do not understand any of that."
"You do not need to," she said. "It wants you to show it the sphere."
Ravel hesitated. "Every time I show the sphere to something, something dangerous happens."
"Then expect danger again," Seris said. "But do it anyway."
Ravel nodded reluctantly. He reached into his cloak and brought the sphere out into the open. The red glow brightened immediately.
The Weeper reacted the moment it saw it. The water of its body quivered like a struck bell. The circular symbols behind it transformed into a new pattern. Lines spread outward from a center point. Three small circles branched off, then broke apart.
Seris stepped closer. "That symbol means shattering."
Ravel gripped the sphere tighter. "Shattering of what?"
"The First Spheres," Seris said. "The Weepers remember the day they fell."
The water creature lowered its head, almost in a bow. Then the symbols behind it shifted into a new pattern. A single long horizontal line. Broken at one point. A curved shape rising from the break.
Seris blinked. "That symbol is rare."
"What does it mean?"
"It means a survivor."
Ravel felt a cold chill. "Me?"
"No," Seris said softly. "The sphere. It is telling us that your sphere is one of the surviving fragments from the broken ritual."
The Weeper reached out an arm, stretching toward Ravel without touching. The sphere pulsed. The red light poured out of the cracks in the creature's shape, reflecting off its entire body.
Then the creature leaned back and slammed both of its hands onto the ground.
The chamber shook.
The pools erupted with light. The water formed a ring around the archway ahead. The vines that draped over the stone began to twist, and the droplets falling from them glowed like silver fire.
The gateway opened.
A path emerged beyond it, illuminated by pale blue light that curled across the ground like smoke.
Seris lowered her sword. "It is granting us passage."
Ravel exhaled slowly. "So that is the Weeping Crown?"
"No," Seris said. "That is only the way in. The Crown itself lies deeper, where memories do not die."
Ravel stepped forward with the sphere. "Then let us go."
Seris followed him. "One warning."
"Only one?"
"For now."
Ravel nodded nervously. "What is it?"
"When we cross that threshold," Seris said, "the forest will not follow us. And the deeper memories will not lie to you. Even if the truth hurts."
Ravel looked at the glowing archway.
The path beyond waited.
He tightened his grip on the sphere and stepped through.