>Ok, through the gap we go then.
>You step through the gap. As you emerge, the first thing you note is the smell of soil, permeating the air and invading your nostrils so powerfully that you have to physically fight back the urge to gag. The air is heavy and humid, though the ringing in your ears has thankfully vanished. Everywhere you look, there are roots. They twist and tangle and interlace with each other, creating thick walls and an arching ceiling some yards overhead. The floor, thankfully, is composed thick and loamy black soil. It is cool beneath your feet, welcomingly so among the oppressive atmosphere.
>Every root here you a poor feeling, building upon each other. You are keenly aware that they surround you on all sides. They are above you, they are ahead of you and beside you and behind you. Even the soil, a blessed oasis in comparison to everything else, is riddled with dozens of them. A small part of your mind wonders if this is what it is like to be truly under the power of merciless barriers, to be completely overwhelmed by them and sealed away. You can feel the gap behind you, and it is the only thing that gives you hope. You don't have to look for other exits. There aren't any, you can feel it in your bones.
>Though the oppressive roots, though the stifling earthen air, you can feel the borders of this place. They are as makeshift and erratic as everywhere else. But through that, you can feel a definite tension to those borders. This place, you feel, has been taken from place, pulled away like stretching away a small bit of mochi or taffy from the main mass. It feels that the main three dimensions should work as they should, but others not be so pliable.
>Ahead, there is a thick table of roots, reaching up from the earth, extending from the walls and descending from the ceiling. The effect is dreadful, but there is something else among them, something muted and familiar.
>_
