The map from the library leads you far beyond the town, past fields and winding roads, toward the rocky edge of the mountains. At first, you think you've made a mistake. Then you see it. A narrow opening in the stone, half-hidden behind hanging ivy and loose rock. The map's markings line up perfectly. As you step closer, a faint shimmer ripples across the entrance, like heat rising from sun-warmed ground. You hesitate—then step forward. The moment you cross the threshold, the air changes. The scent of stone and earth deepens. The outside world fades behind you as if a door has closed, though you never hear it shut. You feel as though you have been transported to another world. Green crystals line the cave walls, their soft light pulsing gently, bright enough to see. The stone beneath your feet hums faintly, as if listening. Ahead, the tunnel splits. To the right, the passage slopes downward. You hear the sound of gentle water, steady and calm, echoing through the stone. To the left, the tunnel narrows. From deep within, you catch the faint sound of tapping, and what might be whispers, too soft to understand.