I take a slow step forward, my fingers brushing the edges of the hidden passage. The stone is cold, unnaturally so, as if the ruin itself has not felt warmth in centuries. The air within is thick, dense, carrying the electric hum of something waiting.
The vines, despite their thorny appearance, part easily beneath my touch. They recognize something. Or perhaps, they simply yield.
Behind me, the Mad Hatter shifts nervously.
"Are you sure about this?" he whispers.
The way he says it tells me he knows the answer. But he asks anyway.
I glance back at him. The rabbit huddles close to his chest, its small ears twitching, though whether from fear or anticipation, I can't tell.
"The Queen warned of riddles and trials," he continues, voice hushed, as if afraid the ruin itself might hear him. "Tests of wit and… will."
I smirk.
"Good."
I don't elaborate. I don't need to.
The barrier around them remains unseen, humming softly beneath reality's surface. They do not know it's there, and that is for the best. They are fragile things, Wonderland's broken remnants, clinging to the hope that I will be the answer to their unraveling world.
And I am.
But not in the way they expect.
I step forward, crossing the threshold into the passage. The moment I do, the temperature drops. The electric hum in the air sharpens, shifting from a subtle pulse to something aware.
Behind me, the Hatter hesitates.
"I… I should stay here," he decides, gripping the rabbit tightly. "You know. Just in case something… terrible happens."
I arch an eyebrow at him.
"And what exactly do you plan to do if something terrible happens?"
His mouth opens. Closes. Then—
"Cheer for you?"
A soft chuckle escapes me.
"Very noble of you."
He gives a dramatic bow. "It's what I do best."
Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to the passage. The darkness inside isn't just dark—it is thick, as though stepping forward means stepping through something.
I do not hesitate.
I enter.
---
The moment I cross fully into the passage, sound vanishes.
Not just muffled—erased.
No rustling trees. No distant wind. No murmurs from the Hatter outside.
Only silence.
And then—
A voice.
"What walks but never moves?"
It is not spoken. It is in me, threading through my thoughts like a needle through fabric.
A test of wit and will, the Queen said.
I smile.
"A path."
The air shifts. Approving.
Then—
"What has hands but cannot grasp?"
Ah. So this is the game.
"A clock."
Another shift.
Then—
"What is never seen but always ahead?"
"The future."
This time, the silence shudders. The passage itself ripples, like a reflection in disturbed water.
I take another step forward, and suddenly—
I am not alone.
A figure stands before me.
It is not the Queen. Not the Shadow. Not the Hatter.
It is me.
Or rather—
A version of me.
Darker. Colder. Its edges blurred like ink bleeding into paper. It watches me with unreadable eyes, a slow smile stretching across its lips.
"Do you deserve the Heart of Wonderland?" it asks.
I do not answer immediately.
I study it.
It does not move. It does not breathe. It simply exists.
Waiting.
Challenging.
A lesser mind would see this as a confrontation. A battle of wills.
But I see it for what it really is.
A reflection.
A question.
"Deserve?" I echo, taking a slow step forward. The air between us tightens. "What does that have to do with anything?"
The reflection smirks.
"Correct."
The darkness around us shatters.
---
I step back into the clearing, the hidden passage sealing itself behind me as if it had never been there.
The Mad Hatter nearly falls over himself.
"That was— you— what just—"*
I hold up a hand, silencing him.
The ruins respond.
A deep, echoing vibration hums through the stone, and with a low, grinding sound, the entrance—once blocked—opens.
The Heart of Wonderland awaits.
And I?
I never lose.