Argider expects relief. A sense of victory. Maybe even a nap.
Instead, she wakes up in a world that isn't quite right.
At first glance, everything seems fixed—no more glitching walls, no cosmic horror unraveling existence—but something feels off in a way that makes her skin crawl.
The sky is too perfect. No clouds. No wind. Just a flawless gradient of colors, stretching endlessly without variation.
The people smile too much. Their movements feel scripted, their expressions locked into eerie pleasantry, as if they were following a pre-written path rather than thinking for themselves.
The palace architecture is slightly different, but in ways she can't immediately pinpoint. A doorway that wasn't there before. A corridor stretching just a little too long. A tapestry that shifts its image when she isn't looking directly at it.
And worst of all?
Squishy is nowhere to be found.
