> Your hand is shaking. A large chunk is missing, including your ring finger. She never meant anything to you anyways. Your hand stopped bleeding a while ago, but the scab is ever-threatening to burst open again.

> The path before you has grown confusing. Once a street lit by sulphur lamps, it's become a twisting maze of trees and viscera. Jack-o-lanterns and carousel horses, broken and gutted, litter the foliage.

> Moving forward, you find yourself faced with the Erlking.
> Its red, beady eyes look down upon your trembling form.

"Youth, have ye the time for chatter?"

> It bares its teeth.

"Ye shan't wish to be eaten by this world."

> SAY: "WE HAVE THE TIME, AT LEAST FOR NOW"