The Drowned Litany of Twin Sleepers

The chamber lies beneath the drowned streets like the inside of a sealed shell, its walls glazed with salt and old prayer. A black basin in the center reflects no faces, only pale gold and bruised violet ripples that answer the players' movements. Around it, sigil disks and candle stubs cling to the stone, and a chained idol between a folded wing and a curled horn shudders whenever the water stirs. Faint voices rise from the walls, one soft as choir breath, one ragged as a threat, and the whole room pulses as if something immense is sleeping just behind the stone.