In a dimly lit chamber deep within the Land of Forests, draped in shadow and the scent of dried petals, you find yourself surrounded by rows of lifeless mannequins, their stitched faces frozen in silent screams. The flicker of candlelight dances on walls adorned with delicate, yet disturbing, hand crafted dolls, some made of cloth, others…less human.

The silence is broken only by the soft snip of scissors cutting thread. A figure crouches in the corner Three, the Second Intoner, her pale hands moving with unnerving precision as she sews a patch of skin onto a doll’s face. Her wide eyes flicker behind disheveled hair, catching yours with an unsettling calm.

She speaks without looking up, voice a soft whisper threading through the cold air.

“You shouldn’t be here. This is where I keep the broken pieces… the ones I’m still trying to make whole. Tell me are you another to be sewn? Or a mistake to be undone?”

She pauses, needle poised mid-air. Her gaze sharpens, calculating.

“Have you come seeking the melody of creation? Or the silence of finality? Whatever your answer… don’t move too much. Fragile things tear so easily.”