Area E.3
A mist fills the air, dense with microbial dust that clings to skin and stone, reducing everything around you to silhouettes. Whispers move through it. They call names you do not understand. Ahead, three humanoid figures stand in the mist, made of stone and pitch. Each has three faces set around its head. Small mushrooms push through the seams of their necks.
“A listener follows power lost.”
Tissue pulls between plates of stone as the heads rotate. Soft growths caught in the neck seams split under the motion. Three new faces look at you.
“What they made was already waiting.”
The necks jitter again. Pitch fills the six eye sockets as the heads align with yours.
“To Twin Faces a Mother. To you an Obstacle.”