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[You dream.
She sits across from you, hairpin shining like fire, her violet eyes staring at you. She slides a cup of tea in front of you, but not before mixing in a dollop of something thick and red like fire into it.
She encourages you to drink. Insists, even. For some reason, you feel compelled to obey. The taste is that of honey. As you sip, she talks.
"I'm sure you think I'm a monster. You wouldn't be wrong."
She sips her own tea.
"I had a family, once. A long time ago. A husband. Children, though not mine. It was acceptable. I was satisfied. Then I found my true calling. I had to leave them behind."
Her cup slowly returns to its sauce.
"They're gone now." A pause. "Replaced. As is the reason I abandoned them. A Counsel of Peace...the dreams of a Messenger...a curious experiment...love itself. Maybe none of it mattered, in the end. Maybe we will not matter, either. Maybe what we are trying to do will fail after all."
"But...I am still here. And you know what they would say about reckonings in the Neath..."
Your eyes open. Something has changed inside you. You remembered something. You look around, dazed, before you stumble out of your room.
You are docked, again. A new week, a new po-wait. The hell is this. Yes, you can see it's called Spatium Prison, but when you think of Victorian era prisons...well, this is not what were expecting. Are you sure that the Conductor-whose name you somehow now remember as Lilac-didn't end up in the wrong universe or something?
...No, sadly. There are the tourists. Well. This is going to be...a week.
Hopefully everyone will survive this one.
There are 13 strangers left in this place.]
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