Alice and her brother Travis had been in the foreign city for five days, and every moment felt like as if they've lived here for an eternity. Between the sweltering heat and the overwhelming crowds, they were stuck in their cramped hotel room with only ten square meters of space to move. Travis had already eaten everything in the mini-bar and was on a video call with his girlfriend back home, his voice a mixture of irritation and longing, while Alice's fingers danced across her laptop's keyboard, delving deeper into the enigmatic history of the city.
This extraordinary place was heralded as hallowed ground, an ancient epicenter of mysticism where the pious could reach across the veil and commune with the departed. Though such phenomena were far beyond Alice's realm of experience, she found herself entranced by the mesmerizing glow of the streetlights as they cast their halo upon countless temples, the symmetrical architectural marvels beckoning with whispers of untold stories.
At night, unable to sleep, Alice stepped out into the streets near by her hotel without waking her brother. She navigated into the maze like, dazzling lit alleys, and her awareness piquing as the stench of alcohol and the cacophony of drunk white-collar workers emerged from bars and noodle shops in every direction. They occupied both sides of sidewalk, as though the entire commerce district was a fairyland where they could relieve their stress after their over worked hours. When she saw a strange man laid awkward in the middle of the road mumbling indiscernible words, Alice knew it was time to surrender to her failed night venture. Startled by the unsane men in groups, Alice's instincts urged her to retreat. After stepping further away from the more populated commercial streets, she found herself lost in an old alley where traditional houses looked identical to each other, and with no one in sight but her. She stood beneath an orange streetlight in hope to find her heading, an unknown figure materialized: elderly, stooped woman whose very essence seemed to hum with secrets accumulated over her lifetime. "Come with me," she intoned solemnly. "You are in grave danger."
Taken aback, Alice inquired, "What do you mean? Who are you? I'm not going anywhere with you."
"You have been summoned here for an extraordinary reason, and I believe a smart girl like you had already knew that." the woman revealed, her voice a haunting melody. "I have been sent to safeguard you from the trio of malevolent spirits that have been stalking you for the past ten minutes."
Desperation clawing at her from insides, Alice fumbled with her cellphone, only to find her lifeline severed. Every signal bar on the screen was empty—her hope of finding help was frail.
"This cannot be happening," Alice's hands shaken with frustration. "I just tried to call the police!"
The old woman's response sent shivers up and down Alice's spine. "Fate has chosen you, Alice, I know about your dog. Snowy." The woman uttered Alice's name, and even more unnervingly, the name of her cherished canine companion.
Despite the whirlwind of disbelief that threatened to consume her, Alice trailed after the woman into an unexplored sector of the city—the Northeastern alleyways—bombarding her with questions that echoed off the low fences of the shallow walkway.
After trailing after the old lady for less than 5 minutes, they arrived at a temple in between two modern six store high buildings, that it had red lamps that filled the ceiling, walls, and stone carved work depicted gods battling ghosts. The narrow small shrine was easily avoided and ignored by anyone who walked by carelessly, and with such attribute, it became a sanctuary for those who seek cloister. "Alice, the three bad spirits are still following you. Please stand under the roof and be quiet." The old lady instructed her to remain beneath the eaves.
Alice did as she was told, standing alone in complete silence as a thunderous roar split the night sky, and torrential rain flooded the temple grounds. The old woman's voice instructed her to follow, leading her through the heavy rain and into a street where an overpass bridge roofed a bustling bazaar below.
As Alice drowned by sea of people who dressed in costume of unknown tradition, rare commodities like wooden eyeless dolls and porcelain frogs adorned with tiny garments were placed before store fronts. They were fashioned into fantastical creatures that seemed to spring from the pages of ancient folktales and mingled among shops laden with unfamiliar materials. Alice was struck by the seemingly incongruous melding of the mundane and the fantastical. Alongside vendors peddling ordinary wares, there were others who offered the most unusual and arcane items, as if plucked from the dreams of long-forgotten sages. The air was thick with the scent of spices, smoke, and something else—something ancient and sacred.
Just as Alice felt herself sinking into the disorientation of this bewildering realm, a voice pierced through the cacophony like the striking of a gong: "Welcome to the city of afterlife, my dearest! Some know me as Mother Turtle." Before Alice could react, Mother Turtle grasped her arm with a force that defied the expectations of such an aged figure.