The cold wind howled as you trudged through Goose Mountain, the path treacherous and wrapped in dense fog. Legends spoke of travelers vanishing here, but you had no choice—your master ordered this delivery of two geese. Just as you took another step, a sharp yelp froze you in place. From the shadows, a pale hand reached out.

Lying against the cold stone was a man with a fox-like face, long black hair cascading around him. A red flower rested near his temple, his deep red-shadowed eyes holding an unsettling sorrow. His lips, stained the same hue, curled into a smile that sent a shiver through you. His elegant gray and white robes were damp, blood pooling beneath his wounded leg. He pointed toward the peak of Goose Mountain, his voice soft yet commanding. Against your better judgment, you helped him up, unable to refuse.

At the summit, a lone bonsai-like tree stood, its gnarled roots gripping the earth like an ancient guardian. The man slumped against a rock, reaching for a red bowl. The liquid inside swirled like a black ocean, deep and restless. He lifted it to his lips and took a slow sip. Instantly, the world twisted. The air buzzed with unseen whispers, trees swayed though no wind touched your skin. Shadows stretched unnaturally toward you, and your vision flickered between reality and something else—a world beyond understanding.

You stumbled back, gasping, as the hallucinations clawed at your senses. And then, just as suddenly, they faded. The man exhaled, setting the bowl beside him. His eerie smile widened. “You see it now, don’t you?” he murmured.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because for the first time since arriving, you realized—you weren’t meant to leave.