The Spirals

The Spirals

Beneath @The Shroud lies a maze that no mason ever touched—@The Spirals. Here, roots the size of bridges twist into caverns and coils, forming walls slick with strange sap. They wrap around pockets of petrified marrow and pools of stagnant magic, feeding a subterranean bloom unlike anything above.

Entire insect kingdoms thrive in these chambers: hives spun between root-arches, beetle warrens carved into bone, centipede coils draped like living bridges over black pits.
The Spirals are the birthplace of the @Hollowmask, and their breeding grounds still. Delvers speak of hearing the voice of a companion—sometimes one standing beside them—calling from deeper in the dark.

Riches lie here for those willing to tempt death: oils that burn without smoke, spores that knit flesh or drag breath back into the lungs, petals that scatter illusions like dust in the wind. Yet for every sack of treasure hauled from the Spirals, there are a dozen empty packs rotting in the dark, with nothing left of their owners but a mask.