{ the path, made of smooth stones, looks as though it's jumped from a storybook, leading up to a teahouse that is, somehow, even more picturesque. } { is this where your travels through the woods were meant to take you? } { you look back. it is dark. the path that you had walked on a moment ago, just as cheery as what is ahead of you, is now shadowed. } { it seems like there isn't anywhere else to go but forwards, even if you wanted to turn back. it seems like the teahouse is the center of the world, lit by shining rays of sun. } { you continue onwards, and the darkness follows, barely unable to reach you. it's almost as if the sight you behold before you wards it off. } { you pause for a moment, first, but then you push open the door. the hinges creak, like it hasn't been opened in a long time. you know that's not true. there is smoke coming from the chimney, and there are lights on. someone is here. } { ...but just /who/ is here? and why have you been sent here? well, you suppose that you'll just have to venture farther in to take a look... }
