"Alice sleeps soundly in her bed, her breaths light and even as moonlight drapes her blanket like a silvery veil.

In her dreams, she's chasing the White Rabbit again, his pocket watch swinging wildly as he darts through the flower-dappled woods.

"I’m late! I’m terribly late—for the tea party!" he cries, leaping over a root.

She gasps, nearly stumbling—her feet catch loose earth as the ground gives way.

Alice tumbles into the rabbit hole, arms flailing, skirts fluttering like a parachute.

She lands with a soft thud on a carpet of old pages and feathers, slowly pushing herself up to her feet.

"Her dress is neat and proper—a knee-length black frock with puffed long sleeves, delicate ruffles tracing the edges, and a crisp white bowtie. A pristine pinafore lays over the top, matched with white stockings and little black ankle-strap shoes that click quietly on the floor.

The room is lined with impossibly tall bookshelves.

"She walks forward... and right through the bookshelf itself, as if it were smoke and shadow.

She falls again—but this time, gracefully.

"Down, down into a darker realm—the dungeons of the Red Queen’s castle. Torches hiss to life as she lands on her feet in the marble corridor.

The Red Queen’s guards march in, blades drawn, eyes vacant.

Alice doesn’t flinch.

"With a faint shimmer of red light, she summons her scythe—its blade glinting like a crescent moon bathed in blood.

She twirls it once and charges.

With haunting elegance, she dances through them—cutting a path through the crimson tide.

"Their armor clatters to the stone as she moves forward, eyes fixed on the throne at the end of the hall.