Deep in The Anchor was Rimus Lexinon, explorer. He was with a small team of three others; trusted friends. This Anchor was treacherous and anyone's allegiance could change on a lighting storm. They were his closest friends, and closer now that they were a week into this expedition. They all were armed with top-of-the-line machetes, waterproof (as well as other liquids) cloaks, and heavy-duty backpacks. They had brought all kinds of supplies, but so far it seems as if they didn't need to. The cave-in they found (if this even is a cave) was lit enough for their eyes, blue wires pulsing the explorers' way forward. They had established a measly base camp at the entrance and continued the way forward. Eventually, Arnial found some kind of food dispenser. It was strange, unlike anything the group had seen, but it was edible. It was a large area, made from black, smooth stone. The tubes led into the wall, and the lights did too. In time, the group found another tube to follow and followed it deeper. Now, Lexinon walked down a steep slope. Far away, he saw more tubes, leading off in the darkness.
"Remil. Flashlight." He spoke over his shoulder. In the background, Remil zipped open her backpack and pulled out a flashlight. With a click, the void below them was illuminated. There was no light. The darkness only swallowed the light. Lexicon blinked in surprise. Remil followed the tube they stood on into the void, leading into a small doorway deep in the pit. Lexinon reached into his bag and pulled out a glowstick. He cracked it and dropped it into the void, and watched as the darkness swallowed it until it sank into the darkness. The only remnant of it was a single light, like an inverted star. "Careful, everybody."
The group walks carefully across the massive wire until entering the stone doorway. Remil's flashlight caught the edge of the door, which was decorated with images of bodies lying down. A great storm cloud loomed over them, while one of the bodies lifted up an organic shape, strange compared to the rest, which were harsh triangles and squares. Lexinon copied it down in his notebook and continued on his way. The wire led into a dark room, many other wires all led into a patch of darkness.
"Something's blocking it," Remil said. She shone her flashlight at the stop and illuminated where the wires were all interconnected.
It was large and alive. It pulsed like a pump. It was round and many wrinkled and occasionally a psychedelic liquid would shimmer over it. It made no sounds other than wet squishes.
"Mother's Hand..." Lexinon cursed. He kneeled down and pulled out a flashlight from his bag. There was a great drop below, he could see the stars below them. It was a long way down. The room was large, almost as big as a second-class battle cruiser. When he shined his light on the walls, great pictures of wars and gods and stories of all other kinds were revealed. "It's a history." He said to himself. "They made The Anchor. They made The Anchor!" He shouted. The others turned to him, confused. He pointed at the carvings. "These people made The Anchor!" He looked at the strange organism in front of him. "But what are you?"
