The corridor stretched on, narrow and damp. None of them spoke much. Even Riven, who always had something stupid to say, kept quiet.
The wall with Kael's name felt like it was still behind them, watching. Every step made the weight heavier, like the letters were carved into his bones now.
They turned a corner, and the air changed. Thin lines glimmered in the dark — silver threads strung from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. A whole nest of them. Some tight as harp strings, others sagging loose.
Kael stopped dead. The Compass pressed warm against his chest.
The system whispered:
[Room Detected: The Room of Threads] Rule: Touch a thread, and it sings. Fail: Song brings the Listener. Condition: Cross without noise.
"Fucking wonderful," Riven muttered. "Now we're in a spider's sewing kit."
Seren crouched low, eyes sharp. She wrote quick: Don't touch. Use gaps. She underlined it twice.
Kael tested the air with his hand. The threads vibrated faintly, almost humming, but no sound came out. Yet. He slipped sideways, moving slow, careful not to brush one.
Riven followed, grumbling. "You know, if I trip and get us all eaten, I expect a memorial. Put on the ledger: 'Here lies Riven. Died like a dumbass.'"
Kael thought: It'd be the truest thing on that wall.
The first ten steps were fine. Wide gaps, easy enough. But then the threads thickened. They crossed each other like a web, tighter, tighter, until the way forward looked impossible.
Seren tapped Kael's shoulder and pointed. Above, near the ceiling, was a thin opening, almost like the Labyrinth had left a path on purpose.
Riven squinted. "Climb? You serious? These arms weren't built for that."
Seren shoved a scrap at him: Idiot. Better than death.
"Pfft." He started climbing anyway, cursing under his breath.
Kael went next, slow, pulling himself up with one hand while the Key dug into his side. Seren moved last, light and quick.
Halfway up, Riven's boot slipped. His toe brushed a thread.
The thread shivered. A sound rang out — faint, sharp, like glass struck by a spoon.
TING.
Kael froze. His stomach dropped.
The system hissed:
[Thread Plucked] Warning: Listener interest drawn.
"Fuck," Riven whispered. "Sorry."
From deep in the dark came an answering sound.
BOOOONG.
Not a bell this time — not full, not yet. Just a distant echo, low and patient.
The threads trembled. More hummed faintly, as if remembering the sound.
"Move," Kael rasped. His voice cut his throat, but it didn't matter. "Now."
They scrambled across, scraping elbows, twisting bodies through the gaps. Every brush of air against a thread made Kael's heart stop, but they didn't touch another.
At last, they dropped down on the far side. A door waited — simple, bone-white, closed but not sealed.
The system whispered again:
[Room Cleared: The Room of Threads] Reward: +1 Token Warning: Listener interest remains.
Kael sagged against the doorframe, chest tight.
Riven flopped onto the floor, gasping. "That's it. I quit. I'm done. Somebody else can be the idiot for once."
Seren scribbled and shoved the note at him: You're always the idiot.
"Pfft." Riven managed a grin, sweat dripping down his face. "Guess I'll stick with what I'm good at."
Kael closed his fist around the Key. The word Hollow still burned in his mind, carved into stone, carved into him. And somewhere behind the threads, the gong still echoed, waiting.
BOOOONG.