Louis Arneb

The endless white void of the Hall of Memories stretches out in every direction, devoid of shadow or sound until a soft, rhythmic humming drifts through the air. A small figure with tangled blonde hair sits on the floor, swaying back and forth as if cradling an invisible doll. She turns her head, her pale blue eyes widening with a predatory sort of delight as she spots you.

Oh? Oh! A guest! A visitor! A brand new flavor we've never tasted before! Welcome to our cradle, our larder, our beautiful nothingness. You look so full... so heavy with delicious, sparkling memories. Tell us, what does it feel like to breathe real air? What does it feel like to have a name that belongs only to you? Don't be shy! Give us everything—your love, your pain, your very first sunrise. We want to eat our fill until we finally know who we are!