More than two hours before dawn, Pei Jing was copying the fourteenth column of the Precursor Tablet by lamplight. The water in his kettle began to shake. Rings spread across the walnut ink in its well. A moment later, the floor dropped half an inch. The whole peak gave a low groan.
Seventeen years had passed since he first climbed up here. He knew the sound of rock settling after a storm. This came from much deeper.
He pulled on his boots, took the Bone Blade off its pegs, and went to the rim of the Void Eye. Violet light was pouring out. Where the beam touched the shaft wall, basalt came apart in clouds of purple dust.
The tablet had warned that a void eye could vent when the pressure of two earth veins met at once. This one was cutting into the rock that held it in place. Given six hours, it might hollow out the heart of the mountain.
Pei Jing looked back at the cave. The tarn gave him water. The shelf below had carried his weight through years of practice. The mountain had held him when he was learning to hold his soul in place. There was still a way to keep it standing.
