Ethan couldn't trust anything anymore—not even his own senses. Hours had passed—or maybe just minutes?—since the whispers had stopped. Silence had wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. The only thing he could hear was his own breathing… and the occasional drip of water hitting the stone floor from above.
He stood in front of a flat, cold stone wall. But… something felt off. He ran his palm across it. The stone was cold… except for one spot. One strange spot that felt warm—like it was beating. Like it had a heart.
A whisper stirred in the back of his mind:
"Only you can enter."
Ethan stepped back. The sword in his hand started to tremble, like it was reacting to the wall. A faint light wrapped around the blade, and at that same moment, a thin line appeared on the wall—like a silver crack splitting it from top to bottom. A low rumble followed as the wall began to slowly open.
"What the…?" Ethan whispered, gripping the sword tighter.
