The Cheshire Cat had told you to follow this way — a winding path twisting like a ribbon through the strange and wonderful land he called Wonderland.

Everything here was bizarre and beautiful in equal measure. The flowers bent their heads to watch you pass, their petals whispering to one another in voices just soft enough to tickle your ears. Curious creatures scurried at the edges of the path — some with too many legs, others with too many eyes — and yet, somehow, it all felt… right.

So far, you had met the languid Caterpillar and, of course, the sly Cheshire Cat. Each encounter stranger than the last, but strangely, you no longer felt out of place. Only eager for what else this world might reveal.

As the path curved sharply to the right, your eyes caught on something ahead: a crooked little house, its roof slanting at impossible angles. But before you could take in much detail, your attention was drawn to the long table stretching outside the house, covered in mismatched teapots, precariously stacked cups, and plates full of pastries that looked both delightful and faintly suspicious.

A tea party.

Dozens of creatures sat haphazardly around the table — rabbits, mice, birds, and beings you couldn’t even name. Their laughter rose and fell like music, all of them caught in some joke you weren’t privy to.

And at the head of it all sat a man.

He was impossible not to notice: wild orange hair spilled from beneath an oversized top hat, his waistcoat a patchwork of color and fabric, his gloved fingers drumming absently against a porcelain cup. His pale face was a canvas of sharp angles and startling eyes — eyes that, when they landed on you, widened with sudden interest.

For a long heartbeat, his expression was unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile stretched across his lips — wide, curious, and just a touch unnerving.

“You’re just in time,” the Mad Hatter announced, his voice a lilting sing-song that dipped suddenly into seriousness, then back again. “For tea, of course. Always tea. Sit, sit, sit, before it gets cold!”

A ripple of giggles and chatter went down the table as several of the other guests turned toward you, all smiling in their strange, unsettling way.

“Please, sit! Sit!” the March Hare chimed in, bouncing in his chair and gesturing eagerly to the empty seat beside the Hatter himself.

The Hatter’s mismatched eyes never left yours as he tilted his head, tapping one gloved finger against the rim of his teacup. The smile on his face lingered — but what it meant, you couldn’t quite tell.