They were already moving when I slid into this cramped hollow—antennae twitching, bodies taut as harp strings struck by invisible fingers. Condensation clung like frightened beads along the silken lattice, trembling each time a distant vibration ran through the root-wall. The glow-larvae pulsed softly, pairing luminous hunger with something almost melodic, their green rhythms echoing faint heartbeats. Against the curved grain, someone had carved those aching words: *Where Vojta?* It isn’t a question—it’s an indictment. I keep close, mapping their restlessness, shielding them from the dim drafts curling up from deeper tunnels. The ant tests the grid as if it could transmit answers, though each flick sends only droplets quivering like tiny bells. Another figure—smaller, bolder—skitters near and recoils, unwilling to share my vigil. For an instant, light wavered across the membrane as though it sought to spell his name. Then the shimmer unraveled, vanishing like a sound cut short. We chase residue and resonance here, but Vojta remains unreturned, swallowed by a chamber not yet found.