Your yearning is yet unsatisfied. Just as you begin to feel this whole thing is a cruel trick, you reach the final door. This one is actually labelled, reading

The Museum. Enter at your own risk.

At this point, you've seen a lot. Yet somehow, this sign resonates deep into your core being, and you feel fear rising. You want to turn back, but you are suddenly seized with something far beyond your control, and burst into the room.

The first thing you notice is the marked humidity. You've only felt quite so physically oppressed on high-gravity planets or in deep waters, but never by the very air itself. Within moments, your clothes are plastered to your skin and your hair is limp and dripping with a mix of sweat and water. Feeling nearly unable to breathe, you rip off your jacket and bend over while you catch your breath again. Once you have, you take your first look around.

The chamber itself is more surreal than intimidating. It seems to be some sort of large-scale tellurian biodome. You are surrounded by towering red-trunked trees, lush verdure, and wild undergrowth. The ceilings are so high as to be almost entirely out of sight, which seems to have enabled the chamber to possess a self-contained atmosphere. Fog swirls throughout the room and high into the air. Rain drizzles from above, prompting you to look up. Wherever the roof begins, it must be transparent, as you can see the bright stars and swirling nebulaic colors of the void shining through, bathing the flora in rich reds and purples.

Just as you begin wondering how any of this constitutes a museum, you spot a single glass display case under a tree roughly 20 meters away. You jog towards it, but right before you reach it, you look up and stop in your tracks. Up ahead, the trees become vastly more concentrated, their branches overlapping and forming a canopy that leaves the path beneath it in darkness. Even with this darkness, you can make out something shocking: the trees do not end. No structure should be able to contain this many, and yet here you are. It's not even a question as to what you will do; some ancient and buried part of you knows the answers you seek lie ahead.