TC awakens in the middle of a dull, lifeless plain. The land is scarred, pock-marked with craters and trenches, seemingly the remnant of some long-forgotten battle. Nothing grows here anymore, though fleeting patches of scorched grass suggest what once was. A cold and howling wind permeates the area, chilling the very land to its core and staining TC's nose with the stench of blood. Scattered about the nightmarish landscape are hunks of broken and twisted metal, discarded from some infernal construction. In all this, the most haunting image is the sky. The moon sits high in the sky, but it is a perversion of its former self. TC's memory conjures images of past cataclysms, but this is no Red Moon. This moon shines a deep, foreboding teal. This is not the Shadow Realm. No, this is somewhere far, far worse.
Fuck the cookie.