He Xi, walking west with Beilu, curiously surveyed the strange sights around them.
The vines and tree roots in the jungle had, at some point, begun to take on a peculiar pattern.
They intertwined until, at the end of the path, they formed an arched tunnel made entirely of plants.
"Mistress, up ahead is the dwelling of the Spindle-Speaker."
He Xi nodded and followed the spiraling tunnel upward.
From Beilu, he had learned that this supreme fey called the Spindle-Speaker, though eccentric in temperament, was not evil.
It was obsessed with collecting and weaving stories. Perhaps it could provide clues about his companions.
As they entered the tunnel, the light dimmed, with only patches of glowing moss offering faint illumination.
Suddenly, He Xi noticed an almost invisible strand of light hanging from the tunnel ceiling. As he walked, the angle changed, and it flashed once.
Curious, he reached out and lightly touched it.
His fingertips met something as tough and cold as a guitar string.
Thread?
It was unbelievably tough.
It looked like excellent material for making equipment.
The instant that thought arose, he immediately snuffed it out.
Within the dwelling of a powerful being, anything that seemed insignificant could be a deadly trap or the embodiment of some rule.
He had no desire to become the unlucky fool in someone's story because of a moment's greed.
Before long, he realized that not touching it had been the right choice.
As they went deeper, more and more of those shimmering threads appeared. They converged from every direction, blending perfectly with vines and tree roots to form the tunnel's walls and vaulted ceiling, as though they had entered the inside of a gigantic cocoon.
Led by Beilu, they eventually reached the end of the tunnel. A door formed from