Chapter 75: Cynthia (2)
The water in the chamber surged violently, converging at the center like a spinning cyclone, the current howling with unnatural force. From its core, a figure began to rise—shaped entirely of glistening, translucent water, humanoid in form yet utterly alien. Embedded in its forehead was a single radiant gem, glowing with the calm brilliance of the ocean’s surface kissed by sunlight.
"Welcome..." the entity intoned, its voice carrying across the vast crystalline chamber like a tide against stone—deep, resonant, and impossibly ancient.
"Descendant of the great Tyr Rein, I greet you."
As the gem’s glow intensified, a soft tremor echoed through the room. The towering pillars shuddered, not from fear—but reverence, as though recognizing the name.
Cynthia instinctively raised her wand, her eyes narrowing. "What is this?" she demanded, her tone calm but edged with wariness.
A strange warmth bloomed in Cynthia’s chest—like a name she’d never heard but somehow remembered. For just a second, the chamber faded, replaced by flashes of wind-torn cliffs, a hand outstretched in blinding light, and a voice that whispered her name with ancient sorrow.
"This is your calling, child of Tyr," the figure replied, lifting a flowing hand toward her. The water comprising its finger rippled gently, as if resisting the force of gravity itself.
"And this shall be your test."
Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet trembled with earth-splitting force—like an earthquake, but deeper, more deliberate. A thunderous crack reverberated through the chamber.
"Let us begin," the figure declared, before collapsing into a torrent, its body disintegrating back into the floor with a splash that echoed like a drumroll.
At once, the entire room responded.