The fall had no end.
At least, that's what it felt like.
No rushing wind. No sensation of moving—just the crushing awareness of down in every bone, like gravity itself had chosen him as its prey. The deeper he sank, the heavier the air became, until even thought moved sluggishly.
A dim red glow appeared far below, throbbing like a heartbeat.
The sound reached him next.
Thud… thud… thud…
It wasn't just a sound—it was inside his ribs, syncing with his own pulse until he couldn't tell if he was hearing it or feeling it.
---
His boots hit solid ground with a noise too sharp for the weightlessness he'd felt.
The air here was warm, damp.
He looked up—no moon, no double, no endless black glass. Only towering walls of jagged bone, slick with something dark. The red glow came from between the ribs of a colossal skeleton chained to the walls.
The thing was humanoid, but wrong—its skull elongated, jaw split into four segments like some deep-sea predator. Its hands were nailed to the bone walls by spears as thick as tree trunks, each one etched with sealing inscriptions so old the ink had turned to scars.
---
And in the hollow of its chest was the light.
A sphere of crimson, pulsing slowly, each beat sending a tremor through the air.
Sora took a step forward—
A voice stopped him.
"Careful. It can smell want."
---
He spun.
A figure was leaning casually against one of the chains, arms folded. She was tall, hair dark and messy, her eyes almost silver in the dim glow. There was no curse energy flaring from her, no obvious malice—but the way the shadows bent slightly toward her made his skin crawl.
She looked him over. "You're new."
Sora kept his stance guarded. "Who are you?"
The woman smirked. "No one important. Just someone smart enough not to touch that." She nodded toward the red sphere. "Unless you want it to take something from you. A memory, maybe. A limb. Or your name."
---
Sora's jaw tightened. "What is it?"
Her gaze lingered on the chained skeleton. "Once? It was a curse so powerful the cult feared it more than any enemy. Now it's a prisoner. That—" she pointed to the sphere—"is its heart. And if you listen long enough, you'll start to think it's yours."
As if on cue, the pulsing glow seemed to quicken, syncing perfectly with his heartbeat.
---
He felt the pull again—just like the invisible strings from before, but stronger, more intimate. His vision swam, the edges of the world blurring.
A whisper slithered into his mind.
"Return what you stole."
Sora staggered, clutching his head. "I didn't take anything!"
The woman's voice cut through. "It doesn't care. The Moon's Grave only sees debts, not truth."
---
The ground shook.
The skeleton's nailed hands twitched, claws gouging the bone walls. One of the sealing spears cracked, the old inscriptions flaring briefly before sputtering.
The chains rattled.
---
The woman pushed off the wall, finally letting a flicker of cursed energy slip into the air—dense, controlled, almost suffocating. "You need to leave. Now."
"I can't. I need answers."
She gave him a long, unreadable look. "…Then survive first. Ask questions after."
---
The skeleton roared without sound, its ribcage expanding unnaturally. The glow in its chest flared, blinding. In that instant, Sora felt everything in him—strength, speed, memory—being pulled toward the sphere.
Instinct screamed.
He forced cursed energy outward in a jagged blast, anchoring himself to the ground with sheer will. His hands burned, skin cracking under the strain.
The woman moved, faster than his eyes could follow, weaving between the chains as if they bent for her. A knife appeared in her grip, blade blacker than the void, and she slashed at the sealing spear. Not to break it—no, she carved into the old inscriptions, reigniting them.
---
The pull weakened.
Sora gasped for air.
The skeleton's split jaw clicked, then slowly closed. Its massive skull lowered, empty sockets locking onto him with a hunger that needed no eyes.
"Heart-thief," it whispered directly into his mind.
---
The woman stepped between them. "He's not yours."
Her cursed energy surged—sharp, cold, carrying an edge that reminded him of steel drawn in silence. The skeleton hissed, its ribs folding inward around the sphere protectively.
She didn't look back at him, but her voice was steady. "Run."
---
For the first time since waking in the Moon's Grave, Sora hesitated. He didn't know her, didn't trust her—but every instinct told him that if he stayed another second, the skeleton would take something from him he couldn't get back.
His feet moved. He ran.
The walls blurred, the heartbeat faded, and darkness swallowed him whole.
---
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on cold stone.
Above him—Gojo's face, expression unreadable.
"You," Gojo said quietly, "have some explaining to do."
---