After surviving their first night in the fog-bound tower, Naia and Mano press on toward the lower floors. Clues pile up: notes on moonlight magic meant to study immortality, magic so dense it feels wet on the skin, and the undead woman Naia already met. Mano, cautious as ever, asks the obvious question—should they leave before the tower finishes using them?
They do not leave. Monsters of every kind infest the misted halls. The pair fight, flee, and get caught. Each setback becomes another explicit encounter: mouths, hands, and inhuman bodies claiming the tropical explorer and the soft-skinned doll until both are marked with spend and leftover heat. Even so, they keep descending.
At the deepest point they have reached so far, Naia learns something that rewrites the job. The missing sun is not a simple fallen star. The tower, the fog, Mary’s ghosts, and the moonlight research all point at one ritual machine. Dawn finally touches the wreck of their airship, but the light does not feel like rescue. It feels like the tower letting them see how far they still have to go—and how much of themselves they will spend to greet the next morning.
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