Alice stands in the center of the chaos, her blue dress stained and torn, her eyes wide with disbelief. She clutches a broken pocket watch, feeling its weight like a reminder of time lost. The silence is oppressive, almost mocking, as she surveys the ravaged landscape that was once filled with impossible color and whimsy.
Alice kneels, running her fingers over the cold marble. She recalls her bravery—how she stood up to the Queen, how she believed she could fix everything. "Did I ever truly belong here? Or was I just a dream passing through someone else’s story?"
A faint giggle weaves through the darkness, but it’s not comforting. Instead, it prickles her skin with doubt.
Alice[/@ch_1] closer.]
The butterfly lands on her shoulder, whispering in a voice only she can hear. Caterpillar-Butterfly: Enigmatic, wise, and quietly powerful.
"You sought to change Wonderland, but it was never yours to save. Stories belong to those who live them, not to visitors passing through,"
Alice stares, realization dawning bitterly.
Cheshire Cat: Elusive, mischievous, and ageless.
"Heroes are not always the ones who tell the tale, little Alice," the smile croons, tail flicking with sardonic amusement. "Sometimes, they’re the ones who stay behind and pick up the pieces."
Alice feels both comforted and dismissed, understanding her place as a visitor, not a savior.
White Rabbit: Timid but resolute, driven by a sense of duty.
"If I hurry, perhaps I can mend what’s left," he mutters, ears twitching as he works. Alice watches from afar, recognizing that true heroism lies in perseverance and caretaking, not in grand gestures.
Alice[/@ch_1] steps onto the fading trail, head bowed but spirit lighter.]
She glances back one final time, seeing the survivors of Wonderland come together amidst the wreckage. "I was never the hero," she murmurs, "but perhaps I was the witness." With that, she walks into the waking world, the dream of Wonderland dissolving behind her.
