The deeper we moved along the Hollow Root the stronger the fourth tone pulsed under my skin. The cavern narrowed but the root grew wider. Thick layers of golden wood wrapped around each other like muscles of a giant creature. Warm sparks flickered along its surface. Cold lines crawled like thin frost veins. Bitter fractures formed black ridges. And the fourth tone hummed beneath all of it like the slow beat of a buried heart.

Lira asked quietly if the flavor inside the root felt different now. I nodded. My senses sharpened so much that every tone tasted like a full drink. Warm tone tasted like caramel and ripe fruit. Cold tone tasted like citrus peel and sharp mint. Bitter tone tasted like deep roasted shells. And the fourth tone tasted like raw earth mixed with molten air. A flavor beyond taste. A flavor that wanted to rewrite the world.

Then something happened.

The warm tone suddenly spiked and shaped itself into a pattern I knew well
A cupping arc
The same sensory curve used in coffee cupping when identifying processing defects

I froze.

Lira noticed. She asked what I sensed. I whispered slowly. The Hollow Root is speaking in the language I used in my old world.

I leaned against the glowing roots. I inhaled slowly the way I used to when evaluating a rare natural processed coffee. The mana currents aligned in a familiar way. Warm tone rose first like a high note of dried berries. Cold tone followed like a clean citrus edge. Bitter tone anchored it with the depth of dark roasted cacao. The fourth tone sat behind them like the body weight of a perfect cup.

The flavor pattern hit me so clearly that my tongue tingled. My memory opened. Every cupping session every sensory chart every origin profile flashed through my mind. For the first time in this world I recognized the flavor map as something I had trained for my entire life.

This entire place
This entire root
This entire tone system
Could be read like coffee

Lira crouched beside me worried. I told her I finally understood why the deep core reacted to my presence. It was not only because I could taste tones. It was because my mind understood patterns. The same patterns used in cupping. This entire world ran on a flavor logic I had practiced for years without knowing.

I placed my hand on the root again. I followed the warm tone as it rose like a cupping aroma bloom. I tracked the cold tone as it cleaned the middle note. I tasted the bitter tone as it anchored the finish. And I tasted the fourth tone as the body and structure of all existence.

The Hollow Root spoke again. A deep hum shaped itself into a flavor pattern. A rising warm spike. A falling cold dip. A bitter tail. And a fourth tone pulse beneath everything.

It was a sensory signal
The same kind used in cupping labs when calibrating roasts

The root wanted me to decode it.

I closed my eyes and followed the pattern. Warm spike meant an origin signal. Cold dip meant distortion. Bitter tail meant imbalance. The fourth tone pulse meant underlying fracture.

The Hollow Root was giving me a cup profile
A map of the world’s wound

I traced the warm spike again. It pointed southeast. Deeper than the chamber. Beneath ancient stone layers. Toward a place the scents hid from us. Lira leaned forward. You found the direction she said.

I nodded slowly.

But then the cold tone snapped like a cracked bean. A sharp silver line shot across the root. The bitter tone thickened. The fourth tone trembled. The Hollow Root shuddered.

A message formed in my tongue.

Taste the fracture
Before it swallows the warm tone forever

The cavern shook violently. Loose rock fell. Cold sweetness poured from deeper passages. Bitter smoke rose in thick waves. Lira grabbed my shoulder. The scouts shouted. But the fourth tone pulled me forward.

We ran deeper along the Hollow Root. The golden glow dimmed. The scent of cold sweetness became sharper. Bitter tone thickened in the air like dust. Warm tone flickered weakly. The fourth tone pulsed louder and louder.

Then the tunnel opened into a massive pit.

A chasm filled with swirling mana
Four tones tangled in chaotic storms
Warm red
Cold silver
Bitter black
Deep gold

The fracture lay at the center
A rupture in the world’s foundation
A wound no one had ever seen

I inhaled
And the entire pit responded in flavor

Warm notes rising like a natural Ethiopian
Cold notes slicing downward like washed Kenya acidity
Bitter notes grounding like Sumatra earth
And the fourth tone vibrating like a perfect blend

I whispered with trembling breath.

I can read this
I can cup this world
I can fix it

Lira asked how.

I looked at the pit again.

We will rebuild the flavor wheel
Tone by tone
Layer by layer
Using every skill I ever had

The Hollow Root pulsed once
Like agreement
Like trust
Like the world saying
Begin