Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 305: Call of the Deep

The trail shimmered in his mind like an echo seen through water — not a sound, not a path, but a pull. Ethan followed.

The inverted sea bent around him, its impossible geography folding as he moved. Kelp forests parted gently as if recognizing something old within him. The deeper he went, the more silent it became — not from a lack of sound, but because the world itself seemed to listen.

The psychic residue left by the Leviathan didn't fade. Instead, it grew sharper, more intentional, as though it wanted to be found.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "It's guiding me…"

He drifted past sunken ruins of coral cities suspended in the water like ancient memories. Statues shaped like serpents and beings with horns and tails stood as silent sentinels — their forms eerily similar to the natives he had seen earlier on land.

Then he saw it.

A crevice.

Not a tear in rock, but a door of sorts — formed by two spiraling spires of crystal coral, glowing faintly with purple and blue energy. Psychic resonance pulsed from it like a heartbeat.

Ethan paused just before it.

The Grimoire of Order hovered at his side now, silent.

"This is a boundary," Ethan said.

"Yes," the Grimoire finally answered. "What lies beyond may not be the T'Shalari stronghold itself… but something sacred to them. Perhaps a test. Perhaps an invitation."

Ethan took a slow breath. The sea around him felt heavier now — not hostile, but dense with memory.

He moved forward.

As he crossed the threshold, the psychic trail flared, and Ethan's vision warped. The world twisted inward — and then snapped back into place.

He stood no longer in water, but in a vast void chamber made of black stone and floating rings of psychic light. Symbols danced across the walls — alien, yet elegant. Ancient. A place of memory. Of awakening.

And in the center of it all, seated upon a throne of coral and scales, was a lone figure.

Tall. Reptilian. Radiating soft Psychic waves.

A T'Shalari.

It opened its eyes — and looked straight into Ethan's soul.

The silence was cavernous — not empty, but heavy. Alive with unspoken weight.

Ethan stood still, hands in his pockets, his crimson sweater rippling faintly in the pressure of the void chamber. Across from him, seated on the throne of coral and luminous scale, the T'Shalari watched.

The being was tall, perhaps eight feet, with skin like smoothed garnet, and faint violet scales tracing the contours of their arms and jaw. No horns, but hair — long and dark, adorned with silver rings. Their eyes glowed with quiet, rippling Psychic power — not piercing, but probing. Calm. Deep.

A voice entered Ethan's mind. Not through sound. Not through lips.

"You are not of us."

Ethan didn't flinch. "No. I'm just passing through."

"Few pass here. Fewer still walk the Song of Mind."

The T'Shalari rose from the throne. Their presence was not oppressive — instead, it enveloped the chamber with a strange serenity, like an ocean wave that refuses to crash.

"You followed the trail."

"Yes," Ethan said simply. "It called out."

The T'Shalari stepped closer, now within ten feet. They studied him with alien grace. Their tail curled slightly, a gesture not of aggression, but of thought.

"You walk with beasts… but lack a voice for the Mind."

"I have five," Ethan replied. "But none for the Psychic path. Not yet."

A pause.

Then, softly, with curiosity:

"And you seek a sixth?"

Ethan nodded. "One that can complete the circle. Harmonize the whole."

The T'Shalari tilted their head. "Hmph."

A flicker — amusement? Intrigue?

"And if the sixth refuses?"

Ethan's gaze sharpened, but his tone remained calm. "Then I continue until one doesn't."

The chamber pulsed.

Then the T'Shalari extended a hand — clawed, elegant — not in challenge, but invitation.

"Then come, Stranger. Speak with the Mind. And let us see… if you are worthy of our name."

The moment lingered like a breath held too long.

Ethan's gaze drifted to the T'Shalari's outstretched hand — and in that stillness, he felt it.

A flicker.

A slight disharmony in the space around them. The resonance wasn't centered on the figure before him — it echoed through them, not from them, like a reflection cast by a mirror with no frame.

His senses narrowed, focusing inward.

This isn't them. Not really.

"Who are you?" he asked softly, not moving.

The projection — the T'Shalari form — blinked slowly, but didn't answer.

Instead, Ethan took a step forward, eyes glinting with subtle golden light. His Saint Core pulsed once, and his consciousness unfolded — peeling apart the layers of illusion.

In an instant, the throne room cracked, fracturing into motes of thought. The coral throne dissolved into drifting glimmers, and the T'Shalari's form began to fade — not as if defeated, but as if released.

Behind the projection, Ethan now sensed the true source — subtle, trembling, buried deep within the ocean's memory.

A dormant node of raw Psychic energy, struggling to stabilize. A child's whisper in a cathedral of minds.

"So that's what you are," Ethan murmured, kneeling. He extended a hand, palm open.

He didn't push his aura. He didn't channel force. He simply listened.

And beneath it all, he heard it: the same echo he'd felt on entering the Beast Plane — a creature trying to awaken, bound to no host, no tribe, no shape. Half-formed, still waiting.

A potential Spirit Beast… still forming its consciousness.

"…You don't need to be afraid," Ethan said, voice like calm thunder. "You've already called me. I'm here now."

A ripple surged through the oceanic chamber, a psychic pulse that shivered across the sea above. The being trembled, then softened — its resonance slowly aligning with his.

Pacified.

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Ethan stood again as the projection fully vanished, leaving behind only threads of starlight and quiet breath.

He exhaled.

"No need to rush," he murmured to himself, then turned his gaze upward, toward the impossible sea above. "But now I know where you are."

With one last glance at the rippling void, Ethan vanished in a shimmer of golden light.

He reappeared beneath the sea, sneakers touching briefly on air before stepping through a final fold of space — and landing on the rocky edge of a wide canyon where mountains kissed the clouds.

Far ahead, nestled between jagged cliffs and flowing silver rivers…

The T'Shalari stronghold.

A soft hum echoed behind his eyes. The trail continued.

The winds here whispered differently.

Not the harsh howls of untamed wilderness, but the low, patient hum of a land accustomed to power. The mountains stood like silent sentinels, draped in veins of glowing minerals that pulsed in rhythm with the latent energies of the region. Below, nestled in a wide basin, was the heart of the tribe.

Ethan stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the T'Shalari stronghold.

It was no ordinary settlement.

Structures were carved directly into the mountainsides, woven from living stone and scale — each building a harmony of instinct and intention. High towers spiraled with luminescent ridges, their peaks sparking with strands of thought-light that danced across the sky. Bridges of bone and crystal stretched across ravines, some pulsing as if alive. And from deep within the settlement, the steady thrum of psychic resonance called out — gentle but ancient.

He adjusted the baggy crimson sweater, then slid his hands back into his pockets.

No weapons. No flare of aura. Just presence.

And that was enough.

The moment he took a step forward, eyes opened.

Not literal ones. But mental.

All across the stronghold, subtle ripples of awareness shifted toward him. Not hostile, not curious either — simply… watchful. The kind of attention born from a tribe that had long since transcended the need for surface-level vigilance.

As he descended a winding trail carved along the mountain's edge, he passed markers — obsidian totems carved with spirals and glyphs that shimmered faintly in response to his presence. One by one, they lit, acknowledging him.

A test?

A greeting?

Maybe both.

Then, halfway down the trail, he saw them.

A gathering of T'Shalari stood at a lower ridge — warriors, elders, and watchers. Their tall forms were draped in robes of scale and hide, colors ranging from deep violet to silver-blue. Some had horns spiraling from their temples, others bore markings glowing faintly along their tails and forearms.

But their eyes… every one of them held reptilian clarity, ancient and quiet.

At their center stood a tall figure with four horns curving like a crown. Silver bands marked their arms, and a staff of pulsating quartz was slung across their back. Their gaze fixed on Ethan with cool, measured recognition.

"You are not of this place," the figure said, voice resonating not from their lips, but directly into his mind.

"No," Ethan replied calmly. "But I was called."

The murmurs of the tribe faded instantly. That answer mattered.

The elder inclined their head slightly. "And you followed willingly?"

"I did."

A moment passed. Then another.

Finally, the elder stepped aside, gesturing toward the stronghold's inner sanctum — the place where the Psychic resonance pulsed the strongest.

"Then come, outsider. The path recognizes you. Let us see if the child does as well."

Ethan stepped forward without hesitation, descending the final stretch into the depths of the T'Shalari domain.