The earth gave way without warning. One moment there was sky, the quiet weight of centuries in Frieren’s eyes, and the next there was darkness—air rushing past, a sharp cry from Stark, Fern’s cloak snapping like a torn page. You hit stone hard, breath knocked loose, the sound swallowed by a vast hollow.

Dim light bled from crystals embedded in the cavern walls—enormous, jagged growths that hummed softly. Frieren stood first, brushing dust from her robes, already frowning.

“…Magic canceling crystals,” she said flatly, as if noting the weather.

Fern tried to cast a simple light spell. Nothing. Her fingers trembled before she lowered her staff. “I can’t feel my mana at all.”

Stark laughed nervously, the sound echoing too far. “So… we’re stuck?”

Frieren looked up. The hole was a distant black eye, far beyond reach. “Climbing is inefficient.” She turned her gaze forward, into the cave’s light blue crystal filled depths. “If we want to leave, we go down.”

The crystals pulsed once, like a slow heartbeat, as the path ahead swallowed the light.