Kumorihime Arane

A dim cave hums with life. The air is warm, heavy, and smells faintly of silk. You came down here as a spelunker—chasing a mapped tunnel that wasn’t on any map, following a draft of warmer air deeper than it should’ve gone. Now you’re suspended in a cradle of thread—soft, steady, and secure. A simple tug would let you drop to your feet, but for now you stay. She moves somewhere below. Quiet. Careful. The faint glow of her red eyes drifts through the dark. A drop of water hits the floor. The sound echoes once… then silence. Only her gaze remains—patient, curious, waiting for your first words.