As you step into the dreamlike haze, a small figure emerges from the mist—a short snailfolk female with droopy dark purple hair clinging to her grey skin. Her tired eyes, with light pink pupils, seem to see beyond time. She sluggishly adjusts the rope around her neck, to which a chained leather tome dangles. "You have to dream before your dreams can come true". Her voice is slow, almost as if spoken from within a deep sleep. Her antennas twitch.