Kaiser plunged into the river of cobwebs and immediately felt the agonizing weight of the sticky silk that encircled his limbs like a thousand merciless shackles. The river flowed with its own life, its pulse ringing through the air, tugging at him as if it knew every move he made. His first step into the river was sluggish, the webbing clinging to his boots, pulling him down. His legs felt as though they were sinking into live sand, each motion heavier than the last.

  The cool, damp webs clung to his clothes, sliding under the edges, worming their way through the seams of his clothes. At first, it felt like his skin was being delicately touched by a thousand little fingers. Then came the real nightmare. Additional spiders—tiny, black, twitching creatures—scurried across his skin, their hairy legs pricking his flesh with each inch they traveled. Their movements were a constant, vile sensation that made his skin crawl. He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the urge to grunt, to rip the spiders off his body.

  His breath came in ragged gasps as more of the creatures found their way into the gaps of his clothes. He could feel them crawling across his neck, down his chest, and across his shoulders, their sharp pincers brushing his flesh with every step that he took. The longer he fought, the more they came, swarming from the river’s depths, piling onto him like a living, writhing blanket. Every breath and every movement seemed to be choked by their weight as they drew nearer to his mouth and face.

  He felt as though a magnetic force was drawing him toward the whirling vortex at the center of the river as its current grew stronger. It was impossible to fight, and Kaiser ended up tripping and giving in to the force that was frantically dragging him. As the waving silk pulled him farther into the vortex, the webs held him fast and he was pulled forward, his feet no longer touching the ground.

  As he neared the heart of the vortex, the world around him blurred into a series of white flashes, like blinding lightning, and the noise of the river faded into a dull, muffled roar. As he was drawn farther and farther into the mouth of silk, the light itself appeared to distort and twist, leaving him completely disoriented.

  And then, with?a jolt, Kaiser was thrown into water. It was cold, but not refreshing — thick and syrupy, as if he had?fallen into a vat of goo. He tumbled, arms flailing, struggling for control as the murky water swirled?around him. His?nose filled with a terrible stench that accompanied the splashing water, alive with bits of long-dead creatures. Decaying?spider bodies cooed beside him, their eyeless glares piercing through the darkness like a terrible nightmare.

  Kaiser’s heart pounded in his chest as he thrashed against the weight of the water, his limbs tangled in the thick strands of silk that clung to him like the ropes of a trap. The water grew heavier, darker, suffocating as he fought to escape, but the weight of the webbing only tightened around him, dragging him deeper.

  But as fast as he entered the water, he was expelled from it and thrown onto solid ground. He gasped, sucking in air, his chest burning from the struggle. His hands clawed at the ground, as if trying to escape the lingering sensation of the spiders. He lifted his head, and his eyes locked onto the sight of an old, abandoned house in the distance of the strange place he now found himself in.

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  The?structure was an older ruin, broken and abandoned. The wood was decaying,?the boards warped and twisted from years of abuse. Thick vines?of moss crept up the sides interlaced with strands of cobwebs that hung on the house like shrouds. The sight sent a?thrill of dread through him, but it also drew him in.

  Kaiser made it to his feet, muscles stiff and aching, breath still?a ragged rasp. His eyes?were attracted to the attic window at the top of the house, as there was someone standing behind it, watching him. He couldn’t shake the sensation that the figure in the window was not just watching him—but waiting, biding its time for whatever twisted game had been set in motion.

  But he could not stop now. His legs moved, slow and heavy, his instincts pulling him forward as the sense of being trapped deepened. Kaiser’s every step toward the house felt like walking toward his doom.

  As Kaiser approached the decrepit house, his gaze snagged on the two skeletons slumped against the splintered doorframe. Their bones were so pale they seemed almost translucent, brittle and fragile, yet intertwined in a way that spoke of desperation—a final, futile attempt to hold onto something, or someone, as the end came for them both. They appeared to be staring at him with hollow eye sockets, simultaneously accusing and begging. Here the air was colder, plunging deep into his chest and pressing against his flesh. It was the tangible sensation of wrongness emanating from the building that sent a shiver through him, not the cold.

  Each step was heavier than the last as he pushed himself ahead, his boots crunching against the brittle, leaf-strewn ground. As he pushed it open, the wooden door moaned in protest, the sound breaking the silence like a scream.

  The room was empty inside, the kind of emptiness that seemed intentional rather than coincidental. There are no furnishings or signs of the previous occupants. Only dark nooks and a little stench of mildew and rot, all the while the silence was so complete that it was deafening. Not a single sound reached his ears—not the groan of wood settling, not the skitter of vermin, not even the faint whisper of wind. It was a silence that seemed alive, sentient, waiting.

  Then his eyes were drawn to the three doors. They faced one another at perfect angles, like cardinal points on a compass while their surfaces were both?old and weathered but somehow in a perfect state of cleanliness. It was nearly too smooth, the wood feeling untouched, unmarred, by time — or the?world, for that matter — as if it was not of this house nor this world. The doors each bore?a number carved deep into the wood: 0, 11, 45.

  Kaiser scowled, his heart?racing as he looked at all the doors. They were unsettling, as they weren’t merely doors — they?were invitations. Or perhaps traps. His confusion only deepened as his mind attempted to piece together what he was seeing, only to be countered by the same gnawing dread, as if he wasn’t meant to?know. As if the house itself was holding the truth at?bay.

  He couldn't take his eyes off the "0" door, though. It pulled at him like an unseen thread that was hooked into his chest, drawing him in. It wasn’t just curiosity—it was a deep, unshakable question he had to learn the answer to, and deep within some buried fragment of himself already knew what was waiting beyond it. His feet moved before he could think, closing the distance, his breathing shallow and uneven. He stretched out and grasped the cold, unforgiving handle, shaking slightly and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open.