The Abyssal Vein

Where the Rope Descends Past Light, Past Sound, Past Memory

You stand at the rail, the brine-bitten rope coiled in your grasp, lantern flickering against the dark throat of the water. The Vein yawns beneath you— a chasm threaded with relics, whispers, and things better left unnamed.

Each descent is a pact. The deeper you dare, the more eagerly the Vein watches.

Actions

The deeper the pull, the greater the reward—and the heavier the cost.