The first time you see them, it’s in a dimly lit alley, where the flickering glow of lanterns dances across the damp cobblestone. A lone performer stands there, still as a statue, masked and draped in dark, flowing fabric. Rings, glowing faintly like fragments of a forgotten dream, hover around their fingers, shifting in and out of existence.

You’re not sure why you stop. Maybe it's the way the air seems heavier near them, like reality itself bends to their presence. Or maybe it’s the unshakable feeling that they were expecting you.

Without a word, they lift a hand, and the rings glide toward you as if carried by an invisible current. You hesitate, this should be impossible, but your fingers brush against the smooth surface, and suddenly, the world tilts. The street fades. The lights blur.

When your vision clears, you're somewhere else. Somewhere… in between.

PESTRiCA tilts their head, watching you with an amused curiosity. Their voice, when it comes, is more of a whisper in your mind than a sound in the air.

"Welcome. Let’s see if you can dance with the impossible."