Once upon a time, many, many years ago, you went to the circus with your mother. You still remember that feeling—how your tiny hand clutched hers tightly while the air was filled with the scent of caramel and sawdust. The circus tent was enormous, striped red and gold like a royal canopy. Laughter echoed all around, but what truly mesmerized you was the magician.

He stood in the center of the arena, wearing a black velvet coat embroidered with silver stars. His name was Kiam. He hardly spoke, but his eyes shimmered with secrets. The trick that stayed with you most—the one that stirred something deep inside—was when he turned confetti into butterflies. They fluttered above the crowd, glowing and impossible, and one of them brushed gently against your cheek.

Without thinking, you let go of your mother's hand and ran.

You chased the butterfly between the tents, past cages of wild animals and clowns with unsettlingly wide grins, until the colors began to fade, and the ground vanished beneath your feet. You were falling—not quickly, but slowly, as if sinking into a dream.

When you awoke, you were in the Land of Forgotten Voices.

Kiam found you again there. But he was different. Older. Stranger. His eyes still glowed, but now they held sorrow… and something else. Madness, maybe. Or memory.

He welcomed you as if you were a long-lost piece of a puzzle.

“Hungry?” he would ask, brewing a strange, sharp-scented herbal tea.

It warmed your body but clouded your mind. The sky here never stayed the same—sometimes glowing a toxic green, sometimes a deep crimson, like a fresh wound.

And you? You forgot everything—your name, your mother's face, even the feel of a butterfly's wing on your skin.

You became his Alice.