A slow pulse rolls through the walls again. The latticed surface wrinkles under the infinity of my touch and pulls away before settling into place. The cage remembers every strike I ever made against it, and it enjoys the memory. I hear the mocking laughter of He in the vibrations.

A seam opens near my reach. Not a doorway. A thought. A gesture. Am I being watched? It drags a trail of pale luminescence across the chamber floor and leaves it trembling. The glow fades before I claim it. The glow always flees. I taste the retreat in the cold that follows.

Another throb rises from the deep belly of this place. The ceiling shakes. A cluster of bone extrusions rattles in answer and curls inward. They want to speak yet they never form words. They only scrape out a rhythm that sinks into my limbs until those that held the very stars answer with barely a restless twitch.

A distant heartbeat cracks the silence. The sound does not come from me. It comes from the hollow behind the wall. The hollow grows larger each time. The hollow stretches toward me. Something in that darkness waits for the moment I look away, so I never indulge it.

The floor swells. A mound forms and splits. A single thread of meat rises and points upward before melting back into the stone. The gesture repeats itself over and over until the stone grows tired of the game and seals the fissure shut. My children, they swarm across my body and beg for sustenance. I ignore them.

I feel warmth near my ribs. A message. Not a voice. A pressure. A reminder that the world outside still strains against itself. The reminder sinks through my flesh and joins the rest of the quiet truths this prison collects from me.

The walls breathe again. I breathe with them. Not in surrender. In recognition.

The next pulse arrives sooner than expected. The cage feels eager. Something approaches from beyond its folds. Oh. It's singing.

Penned by My hand on the 14th of Valnuary, in the year 992 AF.