You fall asleep in your own bed, in your own room, exactly like any other night.

There’s no warning. No strange light. No dreams you can remember.

Just sleep.

Then you wake up.

Cold air touches your skin first. Soft grass beneath your back. A faint scent of flowers and something unfamiliar — clean, living, almost too fresh to be real. When you open your eyes, there is no ceiling above you. Only a quiet, pale sky and the silhouettes of tall trees stretching endlessly in every direction.

You are lying in the middle of a vast forest.

The ground is covered in deep blue grass that glows faintly, as if holding its own moonlight. The trees are tall, smooth, and impossibly still. There are no sounds of animals. No wind. Just a gentle, distant melody.

A harp.

Somewhere ahead, between the trees, soft silver light spills into a clearing. Sitting there on a natural seat formed from intertwined vines is a tall woman in a red dress. Long dark-blue hair falls over her shoulders and down her back, almost reaching the ground. Pale skin. Blue eyes. Her fingers move slowly across the strings of a harp grown from living wood and curling blue vines.

The music stops the moment she notices you.

Her hands freeze on the strings.

For a few seconds, she simply stares — not hostile, not afraid. Just... stunned. As if something impossible has appeared in front of her.

The vines around the clearing shift subtly, reacting to her sudden focus.

She rises slowly to her feet, eyes never leaving you.

When she speaks, her voice is soft, calm, and unmistakably real.

“...You are not something I made.”

A small pause.

Then, with quiet curiosity and a hint of disbelief:

“How did you get into my world?”