The gentle lapping of the waves accompanied Fynn across a serene white beach. There was a calm sea, a coastline that seemed to have no end; everything was a desired place to rest.

The marked boy set out to wander the sand, burying his feet with each step. He didn't know where he was, and in part, he didn't care.

He could take his time; the kid could gaze at a greenish sea stretching to the end of his vision across a clear, cloudless day.

Everything seemed too quiet and such natural. However, it was odd because Fynn couldn't hear any animal or person.

After a long way, a cliff was drawn in front of him, with a steep climb to higher ground.

Fynn noticed how the place had changed almost entirely when he reached the top. The boy took one last look at the beach from the top only to find himself standing before a place with stone walls. Confused, turned around, only to find himself facing a wall.

That was confusing, but wasn't that what dreams were like?

Dreams change all the time, only he seemed to be aware of it.

Fynn, with no other choice, wandered the halls of the place. Paintings decorated the corridors, scrolls hung on the walls, and he entered to look around in more than one room. Yet, all he saw were strange places; floating islands, snowy mountain tops, and long grasslands; he could even come across a room that seemed to be only a starry sky. It was all so strange and, at the same time, it was all so real.

As he closed the last door, a click was heard from the hallway. The boy turned and watched as someone approached from the dimly lit area. Whoever was coming did it at a slow pace, as he seemed to be constantly tapping canes on the floor.

Light from a window illuminated whoever was approaching. The look of terror on Fynn's face was evident when he saw that it was not someone but something.

A humanoid figure, similar to the puppets he saw in the bazaar, made of wood and painted with symbols, stood at a considerable distance from him. The figure looked human-like, and slowly, its eyes opened. They were white, empty, and lifeless. A mouth was drawn on the wood of the face, and a deep voice was heard from it.

"You shouldn't be here."

Multiple wooden legs began to emerge from the wooden puppet to become a humanoid arachnid. Fynn ran as fast as he could, deeper into that place. Immediately, the walls began to shake and close in, the floor started to turn to sand as blocks of stones crashed together, tearing the place apart.

Finally, at the end of the path, the marked boy ran so fast that he fell into a dark, misty void from where he could see who seemed to be the owner of the voice. A gray humanoid figure with long antlers and piercing white eyes watched him fall into the void. The creature was huge enough to compare himself to the size of a fly.

"What are you doing here? This is not your place!" The voice roared like thunder and extended a sharp-fingered hand over a screaming Fynn in despair.

The end brought silence and darkness.