The crystalline chamber shimmered with an otherworldly glow, its walls refracting light into a kaleidoscope of colors that freckled across Belial's face. He sat cross-legged on the giant crystalline bed, its surface cool and unyielding beneath him, like sitting on a slab of polished ice.
The bed was enormous, far too large for a human, and its edges seemed to hum with a faint vibration that tickled his skin. He reached into the air, his fingers brushing against an invisible interface only he could see—his visor's inventory. A faint holographic shimmer materialized, and he selected another book from the digital archive, its crystalline form solidifying in his hands.
This book was heavier than the others, its pages engraved with intricate patterns that seemed to pulse under his touch. Unlike the paper books of Earth, these crystalline tomes were dense, their contents etched in a language of vibrations that his visor translated into readable text. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes widened at the subject matter: Crystalline Anatomy and Culture. The crystalline people, it seemed, were far stranger than he'd imagined.
According to the text, they couldn't see in the traditional sense. Their perception relied on vibrations, granting them a 360-degree awareness of their surroundings at all times.
It was as if they "saw" the world through ripples in the air, like sonar made manifest. This explained the peculiar structure of the chamber around him.
The walls were adorned with sideways chairs, their seats jutting out at impossible angles, defying gravity.
Above him, a locked door hung in the ceiling, its frame etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly. Belial had initially thought the architecture was a mistake, a quirk of alien design, but now it made sense.
The crystallites could control the gravity of their bodies, bending the laws of physics to walk on walls or ceilings as easily as the floor. The chamber wasn't chaotic—it was built for beings who lived in a world without "up" or "down."
He ran his fingers over the engraved page, feeling the subtle vibrations encoded in the crystal. The book itself was a testament to their culture, its heavy pages designed to be "read" through touch as much as sight. Belial couldn't help but marvel at the ingenuity of it all, but a pang of longing tugged at his chest. "I wish I'd brought one of my gaming consoles...," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing faintly in the vast chamber. He owned a few portable ones, sleek devices powered by sunlight, perfect for long missions like this. A quick game of Starstruck or Infinite Void Racer would've been a welcome distraction from the weight of his task.
But he hadn't brought them. Couldn't bring them. His mission required absolute secrecy, and even a single piece of Earth tech could've blown his cover. Belial was undercover, posing as a wanderer in this alien world, But now he was more like a Discoverer or Historian. The game dint provide enough information on the world that passed just scraps and peices of information to keep the story going.
With a sigh, Belial closed the book and set it on the bed, its weight causing the crystalline surface to clink. He stood, stretching his arms, and glanced around the chamber. The sideways chairs, the ceiling door, the faint vibrations in the air—it all felt like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
His mind drifted to the hairpin he'd found earlier, a slender crystal rod etched with symbols. He'd picked it up on a whim, but now he wondered if it was more than a trinket. Could it activate the statue? The idea had been nagging at him for hours, and he was tired of sitting still.
"I guess I'll have to find out the hard way," he said, his voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at him.
He crossed the chamber, his boots clicking against the smooth crystal floor, and approached the dark door at the far end. It wasn't a door in the traditional sense—more like a gaping archway that led into shadow. Beyond it lay the giant stairwell, a spiraling descent that seemed to stretch into infinity. The air grew cooler as he stepped through, the faint hum of the chamber fading behind him.
The stairwell was a marvel in itself, its steps carved from the same translucent crystal as the rest of the complex. Each step was wide enough for three people to stand abreast, and the walls glowed with a soft, bioluminescent light that cast eerie shadows. Belial's visor adjusted to the dimness, overlaying a faint grid of data—temperature, atmospheric composition, structural integrity. Everything checked out, but the sheer scale of the place made him feel small, insignificant. He descended carefully, one hand trailing along the wall for balance, the crystal smooth and cold under his fingers.
As he walked, his thoughts returned to the statue. It stood in a vast chamber at the base of the stairwell, a towering figure of a crystalline being, its arms outstretched as if in offering. Its surface was etched with the same runes he'd seen on the ceiling door, and at its base was a small pedestal with a slot that looked suspiciously like it was meant for the hairpin. Belial had two hairpins in his inventory, each with slightly different markings, and he wasn't sure which one—if either—was the right choice. The wrong one could trigger a trap, or worse, alert the crystalline guardians that patrolled the complex.
He reached the bottom of the stairwell, his breath catching as the statue came into view. It was even more imposing up close, its surface refracting the ambient light into a dazzling array of colors. The chamber was silent, save for the faint hum of the crystal itself, a sound that seemed to resonate in Belial's bones. He approached the pedestal, his heart pounding, and pulled the hairpin from his inventory. It glinted in the light, its symbols glowing faintly as if responding to the statue's presence.
"Okay," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "Let's see what you do."
He hesitated, his thumb brushing over the hairpin's surface. The crystalline people's ability to manipulate gravity meant the statue could be more than a training dummy—it could be a mechanism, a lock, or even a great experiment?. The book had mentioned their technology was tied to vibrations and ether, and the hairpin's hum felt like a key waiting to be plipped.
But which one? He had a second hairpin, its markings slightly more angular, but his gut told him this one was the right choice. Or maybe that was because the second one almost killed him..
Belial took a deep breath and pushed the hairpin into the pedestal. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a sense of quietness filled the chamber, growing louder until a sound vibrated in his chest.
The statue's runes flared to life, glowing with a brilliant white light that forced him to shield his eyes. The ground trembled, and Belial stumbled back, his hand instinctively reaching for the blade at his hip. Its stone body groaned under the weight of centuries, and the air around it thickened with an unseen pressure, like the stillness before a storm.
Belial stood frozen, watching as the figure's arms raised with a slow, mechanical precision, the stiff, ancient stone grinding against itself. The eyes never left him, shining like two cold stars in the darkened room, watching, judging.
A low hum began to resonate from deep within the statue's chest, the ground beneath Belial's feet trembling slightly with the rising energy. He could feel the shift in the air, an invisible force pushing against him. Despite the centuries of stone and dust, the statue was coming to life—awakening.
Every movement of the statue seemed deliberate, calculated. Its head turned slightly, as if assessing the intruder before it.
Belial tightened his grip on the hairpin, ready to fight or flee.