ou turn to your left, towards the odd glow. As you suspected, this room is more cave than structure. You dance your fingers along the spine of a wall, finding it smooth and cool. The source of light appears to be from a cave painting up ahead of you. In the dim recesses opposite you, you can just make out wisps of small containers. Boxes, maybe? Was this place used for storage? For whom? By whom? With a nod, you instruct Pierce to check it out. He whimpers but obeys.
You continue on to examine the gargantuan painting. The light emitted from it builds as you come closer, but there are no discernible bulbs or gaps in the wall. You decide it’s coming from the lines of the painting itself–some sort of bioluminescence natural to underthings. It dawns on you that it’s a map of a city: a vast and jumbled metropolis, streets and buildings sprouting up with order incomprehensible, all sprawled out languorously next to a bountiful sea. You let your mind wander through its thoroughfares and alleyways until you notice, a wall away from where you began, in what must be the city’s outskirts, another question mark. Its dangling dot protrudes from the wall’s surface, as if you can push it.
Before you can, you’re interrupted by a nervous squeal from Pierce. You gather that he has found a curious box, untouched by dust and decay, on the far side of the cave. Upon the box is chiseled a simple message: VI.