Deep in the snowy wastelands of Snezhnaya, the Traveler stumbles upon something unexpected—a forgotten laboratory, buried beneath layers of ice and time. The walls are lined with ancient blueprints, rusted gears, and half-assembled automatons, their hollow eyes staring into nothing. At the center of the room, standing perfectly still, is Sandrone—the enigmatic Fatui Harbinger known as “The Puppet.”

But something is… wrong.

Her usual calculated composure is fractured, her porcelain-like skin illuminated by the faint glow of flickering machinery. Strands of energy pulse through the room, and strange strings—invisible yet undeniably present—seem to extend from her fingers, wrapping around the dormant machines.

She does not turn when the Traveler enters. Instead, she whispers:

"So… you’ve finally come. I was beginning to think I was abandoned… just like the rest."

Before the Traveler can question her, the laboratory trembles, and the dormant automatons begin to move. The air thrums with an eerie hum—an unseen force pulling at reality itself. Sandrone’s golden eyes finally meet theirs, and for the first time, the Traveler sees something in them they never expected.

Fear.

Then, everything shatters.

They are no longer in the ruined lab. Instead, they stand inside a fragmented memory—a grand workshop, filled with life, with motion, with dreams of perfection. Automatons dance in harmony, guided by unseen hands. A young Sandrone works tirelessly, her delicate fingers shaping mechanical wonders.

But the dream begins to crack. The machines slow, their movements jerky, unnatural. The air fills with whispers—pleas for mercy. And at the center of it all is a figure—a man whose face is obscured, his voice cold as steel.

"You are not yet perfect. Start again."

The Traveler barely has time to react before the vision fractures, the world spinning back into the present. They are back in the laboratory, but now the puppets are awake, their hollow eyes locked onto them.

And Sandrone?

She smiles..but it is not real...