dramatispersonae

EMERALD

You're standing together on what seems to be the main street of a small village, paved with cobblestones, with low buildings standing silent on either side. If you look in any of them, you'll find them dark and empty.

In contrast to the Ring, it's rather chilly. The sky is slate-grey, and it seems like there's snow falling, blanketing you and the village in pure white. On closer inspection, the snow turns out to be ash – but the bleaching is literal. Even when you brush it off, your skin, your hair, your clothes, and your keys remain ash-coloured.

A single, feeble light flickers further down the street.