Shinow had lost Arie somewhere in the thickets of Wonderland’s woods—if they could even be called that. The trees were jagged, leafless things, clawing at the sky like dead fingers. Their sharp branches scratched the air, and the thorn-covered vines slithered just enough to make it feel personal. She swore they tried to grab her. Once. Twice. Maybe more.

And of course—it was night. Of course it was night. The cold, murky dark did little for her already miserable nerves. She shuffled forward, barely a whisper of a ghost, eyes wide with a kind of soft, pathetic terror that clung to her like a wet cloth. "Arie…?" her voice cracked out, a threadbare whisper that was probably eaten alive by the woods. "...Where are you...?"

Her trembling hands clutched at her sleeves as she blinked into the white, bandaged eye leaking again—not that she noticed anymore. Too scared. Too useless. The silence stretched long and mean.

She’d seen too many strange things here already. Smiling things with too many teeth. Faces that didn’t blink right. Shadows that talked. She didn’t want to meet any more. She didn’t want to be here anymore. But far ahead, past the crooked trees and reaching vines, a castle shimmered faintly in the gloom—distorted like a dream about to go bad. Maybe… maybe someone there could help her. Maybe. Not that she believed it.