The girl opened her eyes to find herself standing on a glass pane–that was what it was. The pane, however, was serving the purpose of a port. She knew because there was a beaten, wooden boat right at her feet, where the glass pane ended. She was standing at the edge of the glass. Beneath her feet was a vast ocean, a dark blue ocean mixed with purple waters, with dark shapes lurking in the deep. She could only see that there were lurking shapes that gave her discomfort, she couldn’t make out what they were. In front of her was the same scene, but without the protection of the glass pane–not that mere glass offered much comfort in the first place. All around her, it was the same ocean, dark, evil, mysterious, with malicious shapes lurking. The wooden boat stayed in front of her, and somehow, she knew. She must cross the ocean on that boat, across the evil ocean, and it was only when she reached the other side would she be free.
Her island of glass panes was big enough for her to lie down and roll around, but she didn’t move an inch. An unknown fear rooted her to the spot. Where did she come from? Where was this place? Why was she here? Besides the scene at her feet, all around her was the same atmosphere. Dark smoke that had no smell, dark thick smoke that blurred her vision. She couldn’t even see the destination at which she must arrive. All she knew was that she should get on the boat and somehow make it to the other side.
At this time, one of those shapes from the ocean leaped up, flying out of the waters, and opened its mouth, revealing teeth sharper than needles, only to close it again, and dive back into the ocean. Soon afterwards, many shapes followed suit. All of a sudden, calm waters turned into a dramatic scene of flying sea creatures with open mouths. Instinctively, the girl checked the boat with her eyes. It seemed fine. But then, who in the world would throw herself into a dangerous and mysterious realm that only provoked her fear, however free it might make her?
She didn’t know what to do. She was trapped on panes of glass with only a battered boat in front of her as her only salvation.
And so she, with her knee-length, silver-pink curls, her gentle but sparkling tanzanite eyes, stood there, doing nothing. She couldn’t see her reflection, but she could see her hair, and she could see her clothes–she was wearing nothing but a plain, light blue gown made of silk. It was long-sleeved, and it covered even her toes. She was wearing nothing on her feet. When she realized that all she had as her armor was a gown made of silk, her fear only grew.