Sora was standing in a room. It looked cold, and it was made of stone. The drapes were covering the large windows. It seemed to be a mansion of some sort.

Sora walked around, not sure where she was. The carpet was surprisingly stiff and chilly beneath her feet and thin, cotton slippers.

Suddenly, she froze in her spot. I can see? she thought, a mix of feelings dawning upon her.

She didn’t know whether to be elated or scared out of her wits. But silently, she was singing hymns of praise within. She greedily drank in the sights of the room.

Sora touched the drapes gingerly; they were a dark, sanguine color that reminded her of the strong – smelling wine her real father used to drink.

There was a large, four poster bed in the center of the room, and the side facing her had curtains drawn there, too.

Who would live in such a dark place? she asked herself.

Her thoughts and heart simultaneously skipped a beat as a pained groan emerged from the bed.