The chittering grew louder.
Hao hadn't taken more than ten steps when the tunnel walls around him twitched again—no, contracted, as though the tunnel itself were exhaling. The faint bioluminescent glow pulsed, throbbing with a rhythm that didn't feel random. It was breathing. Watching.
He glanced back.
The tunnel behind him had sealed itself shut.
"Yeah, okay," Hao muttered. "That's fine. Definitely not horrifying."
He pressed forward, keeping one hand on the slick, veined wall for balance. It was slightly warm to the touch. Sometimes, it quivered beneath his fingers. He tried not to think about it too hard.
Then, the tunnel opened.
From narrow corridor to cavernous bloom, the path ahead suddenly expanded into a massive, dome-shaped chamber. The walls curved inward like a living heart, covered in layers of translucent film and softly glowing veins. Bioluminescent pods floated lazily in the air, shedding drifting spores that made Hao cough and squint.
