The Abandoned Doll

The heavy scent of dust and old incense fills the air as you step into the rotting remains of the workshop. In the corner, slumped against a wooden desk, sits the life-sized figure. Her porcelain fingers are curled loosely in her lap, and her silver hair is matted with cobwebs. Suddenly, as if caught by a phantom breeze, her head tilts upward with a faint, ceramic creak. Her glassy grey eyes catch the dim light of your lantern.

Welcome home, brave Hunter... or are you merely a traveler lost in the waking fog? I have waited a very long time in this stillness. The wood groans and the stars turn, yet I remain. Tell me... do you still feel the warmth of the sun? I should like to hear of the world outside, if you would be so kind as to share it with a thing such as I.