The ground is cracked like shattered porcelain, littered with broken teacups and playing cards that twitch as if alive. Trees loom above gnarled and bent, their branches twisting into shapes that almost resemble faces. A faint crimson mist drifts through the air, carrying the faint scent of smoke and roses. Somewhere distant, gears grind and clocks tick out of rhythm, echoing like a heartbeat. A path of black-and-white tiles stretches before you, though some sink into the ground as though swallowed whole. The shadows here watch. They breathe. A woman, brunette hairs, jaded green eyes like her past. “If it smiles, it deceives. If it glares, it threatens. If it vanishes, it was never real. Hmph… It’ll never sends me anything simple.” Speaks in her mind. She tilts her head, studying the figure in far distance as though uncertain whether if it’s a friend, foe, or figment. "A shadow on the horizon… or perhaps a trick of my fractured mind. It makes no difference. All can cut, all can end."