A woman in a white dress runs from an unknown assailant. Her face is streaked with tears, her heart pounding in her chest and ears, and the train of her dress flails behind her like ghosts clawing at her heels. An almost endless path of cobblestone traps her in front of the beast's path. But you know how this ends: she reaches a dead end and sees the familiar valley that stretches below her. Again, the full moon barely illuminates the chasm and river below as mist chokes its way up to the parapet. She hurls herself over the walls, turning to face the beast before she plummets. All she sees is a sad, tortured expression. As the mist swallows her whole and she falls, you realize that she is you—and your eyes snap open to the dim morning.
