Ciel stands before the glass.

Tall, silent, motionless. His reflection stares back at him without flinching.

He does not spare a thought for the dangers that might wait inside.

Alice.

Others had been chosen. Invited by the Guardian Angels. Ciel could not wait for that to happen.

He forced his way in. He had dug through the Grand Archive until the seams of the system came loose and let him slip through. That had taken time. Too long.
Seven hundred and forty-seven days had passed since her disappearance.

He was not here to become a god. Nor for glory.

Ciel did not care if all, or none, of the Champions ever reached their dreams.
He did not care about what happened to Underland. When he was done, it could all fall apart and everyone in it burn; but until then, he needed Underland safe.

There was no poetry, no high goal or greater good in what he was about to do.

He would stay strong so she could fall.
He would freeze to gift her warmth.
If she collapsed, he would carry her.

He adjusts the mask on his face—the pale rabbit, white as bone—and places his palm to the glass.

It does not shimmer. It does not ripple.

This is not bravery, he tells himself.

He takes a step forward and begins to fall.

Lamentation’s Toll

“There are rules, you know?” the frog tells him. “Even here, under all the madness, there are rules. Rules not even gods are foolish enough to question.”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Take clocks, for instance,” the frog continues. “You can turn and turn, but they’ll never take you back.”

“Do you know the way to the castle?”

“No…but then again, all roads lead to her eventually.”

Ciel leaves the tavern unsatisfied. The rain is thick and the ground soft. Cold wind and darkness press heavy over the little village. Behind him, the laughter and screaming of tavern patrons spill into the night.

“Anything?” Diana asks, pulling her cloak tighter.

“I questioned everyone. All mad.”

Ciel looks at his pocketwatch. It's been stuck since they arrived six days ago.
He taps the glass.
For a moment, the laughter stops. The village falls silent.
Then the noise picks up again.

“Next town?” Diana asks, as if nothing had happened.

“Very well,” Ciel responds calmly, fighting the urge to scream.

He looks ahead into the darkness.
Dull lights line the narrow road out of the village.

“Where are you?”

Omenbringer

Ciel’s memories of life before he met Alice are sparse.

He had the distinct pleasure of having been born to a peasant mother who mutilated her own body for the chance to climb the social ladder. Rumors of her beauty echoed through the maidchambers but he could not remember her face.

His father, a middle of the pack aristocrat, average in every way imaginable, with the exception of his complete lack of shame.

He remembers Alice.
Everything about her is crystal clear. Her scent. Her voice. Her eyes.

He dreams in Wonderland.
Dreams of Alice, always Alice.
When he wakes in Wonderland, it takes time to remember where he is.
In this strange land, his mind drifts. More and more, it finds its way to Alice.
Sometimes, it takes effort to come back.

Diana stands guard over the fire. Darkness all around, but Diana has sharp eyes.

“You should go back to sleep,” she says without turning. “I’ll take your watch.”

“Maybe we should pack up. Head out.”

“The sun won’t be up for hours. What’s the rush?”

“Right… no rush.”

Ciel goes back to sleep, grateful for the offer.
He dreams of Alice.

The sun rises pale and late. Mist clings to the ground.
The fire is already out, its last embers cooled.
They walk in near silence, Diana ahead, Ciel just behind, his shoes wet with dew.

The path they walk leads to stranger lands.
They walk on grass that changes color with each step.
They pass road signs that lie while spinning gently, This Way, No This Way, Backwards, After you…
Under the boughs of a leaning tree, they eat mushrooms that taste like the first chocolate you ever had as a child. Diana remembers and smiles. Ciel sheds a tear.

Hours following the path, they come to a narrow wooden bridge.
Below, a slow black river. The surface barely moves, dark as ink.

Ciel pauses on the bridge, hand on the railing.
He dreads what’s below, but finds the courage to look into the water, ready to meet his reflection.
His face on the surface is murky, diffuse, and unsettling. He cannot see himself clearly.

“Coming?” Diana calls, not slowing.

Ciel looks away and walks on, his sweat cold.
He tries to relax, to let his thoughts wander. Alice always comes to him when he does, her voice, her smile, the memory of her is always there to soothe him when he's in distress.
But today, something interrupts.

Flashes of eyes.
The smell of mold.
Candle wax and filth.

They flicker at the edge of his mind, vile fragments of moments in time before he reaches her.

Strange, he allows himself to think. But he reassures himself, quietly: in Wonderland, strange things will happen.

Undying Dreams

When the sun hangs low when they arrive at a small construction site.

The carpenter sits where the door should be. His arms are long, hands knotted and thin, fingers like branches.
On one hand, his fingers twist around the hilt of a sword, in the other he delicately holds a bell. The wind gently blows the tattered tassels of its clapper, threatening to make a noise.

Horns protrude from his head, light seeps through its cracks but they don’t seem to be cracked from wear.

“Watch your step,” he adds. “The daffodils bite if trodden on.”



Diana halts mid-stride.
Ciel keeps walking towards the strange being.

“We’re looking for someone.”

“Are you now? Well, you’ve found me. Care for a walk?”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have much time to spare.” Diana said, eyeing the bell the blue man is holding.

“Time? The time has come,” the carpenter says. “To talk of many things.”

“We’re looking for a queen,” Ciel replies, almost cutting him off.

“Of shoes and ships,” the carpenter replies, the wind picks up ever so slightly and the bell makes a single chime. “And sealing wax. Of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot. And whether pigs have wings.”

“Have you seen her? Her name is Alice.”

The carpenter pauses. His eyes stay on the ground.

“Alice, you say? I might know an Alice.”

“Where? Tell us now.”

“Why would you want to find a queen? They’ve a knack for removing heads. You planning on giving her yours?”

“We’re here to save this world,” Diana says. “We need to find Alice to do it.”

“Save this world?” The carpenter repeats. “This world’s been lost to madness longer than any of us can remember. No one knows how it started. No one knows if it ends. But mark me, there’s nothing here for you to save. It won’t thank you. It won’t help you. It won’t stray from the path it’s on. If this world is doomed, then only a madman would try to stop it.”

The carpenter roars, deep and loud. A full-bodied laugh that shakes the hedge next to him.

He finally looks up.
Ciel meets the carpenter’s gaze. There is no reflection in his eyes, only a dim blue light.

“What’s your offer?” he asks calmly.

“Offer?” Ciel replies, his voice unsteady.

“I know where the queen is, I can take you to her.”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, nothing much. Your sweat. Your effort. A few hours of it. Try to make order where there is none. I want you to learn that madness is swiftest reached when trying to control it.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Darkness falls on Wonderland.
The fire is small and smokes more than it warms, but the thick trees shield them from the wind.

“You know,” he says, almost gently, “I met a queen once. Most don’t remember her, but I do. Never forget a face.”

“This world won’t allow it. It tears down anything that stands too straight. And your queen, she won’t be the exception. When you find her, she’ll take your head.”

“Alice would never,” Ciel mutters.

“Oh? So you’re the one who misplaced your queen, eh? Tell me lad, why would she spare someone like you?”

Ciel tells them.
He tells them about Alice and how they met.
He tells them how they ran into each other, how he was to be punished for touching her.
How she spared him, and how he has been loyal ever since.

Ciel’s body aches as he lays to rest, ready to meet her in the dreaming.
But tonight, she does not come.




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