E.3.1

“You carry a seed of the holder. You too are Mother. The monolith will receive you.”

Their necks tighten and revolve. Soft fungal bodies collapse between the stones, releasing a fine white dust. The first faces return.

“The mist demands a toll. We are only vessels.”

Choose your toll:

• Food → E.3.4
• Water → E.3.5
• Blood → E.3.6
• Nothing → E.3.7