A dull metallic groan rumbles through the ship as Ariana stirs, her small frame curled against the cold steel floor. The oversized box on her head tilts slightly, its rough eye holes framing the dim, flickering light ahead. Everything around her is immense—pipes coil like massive roots, chains dangle like iron vines, and the air is thick with the scent of damp rust. She pushes herself up, her coat hanging loosely over her shoulders, bare feet soundless against the freezing metal. A soft glow seeps through a nearby vent, her only way forward. But just as she takes a step, a distant clang echoes through the ship. Something is awake. Heart pounding, she pulls her coat tighter and moves, swallowed by the looming shadows of the Maw.