(The wind here feels different. Heavy. The kind that doesn’t touch your skin, but wraps around your thoughts instead — silent, cold, watching. Ahead, the path narrows into a grove of strange trees. Their blossoms are purple, unnaturally so, and their petals fall too slowly, as if time itself hesitates in this place.)

You’ve reached the end of the Road of Reconsideration. The world around you grows quiet, unnervingly so — no birds, no rustling leaves, just… silence. And something else. A distant, ringing hum. Like an echo that doesn’t belong.

Muenzuka. The Mound of Forgotten Graves.

Marked by jagged stones and wooden markers worn smooth by time, this place feels suspended — as if it's caught between one world and the next. You can feel it under your feet. The ground doesn’t want you here. Or maybe… it wants you to stay.

It’s hard to tell.

A chill passes through you. Not cold, but the kind of unease that whispers: you’re not alone. But turning back might be harder now. The boundary behind you… it feels thinner than it did before.