When Trod turned the corner he found that instead of the paved street leading to his intertree apartment building, everything was gone and replaced by a vast white. It startled him and he held the loaf of bread that he’d stolen closer to his chest. The thought that he’d been caught by Highpine Guardians and had fallen into one of their illusionary magics occurred to him. But something about this was different. He didn’t feel that immediate panic that he was used to or the overwhelming despair that made him want to submit to anything that would bring an end to his futile running.

	No, this time, Trod felt in full control of himself, even more so than usual. He wasn’t hungry, felt extremely clean, felt safe, and even had a mind to find out what exactly was going on. He hovered his foot in front of him, unsure if he could even move from the spot he was in. After all, there was nothing around him. He stared at the spot where he wanted to lightly put his foot down, gritting his teeth together and his entire body tensed. To his surprise, there was solid ground underneath him. He opened his eyes and saw that the familiar cobblestone footbridge to Highpine’s Autumn Memorial Library was forming, flying brick by brick into place. The scraping sound of stone against stone was loud and, by reflex, he turned away and shielded his head from the sight, in fear that whoever was throwing the bricks would soon target him. He shut his eyes and braced himself.

	It felt like a lifetime to him and soon the noises were joined by steps against the stone, merchants yelling their wares, the sound of coin sacks jingling. Then, other noises that he didn’t recognize blended in. They were simultaneously high and low pitched and made him feel like his head was expanding and caving in on itself. He shut his eyes tighter and screamed, but because of all of the noise he was unsure if he was actually screaming or not.

	Then, a voice came into his head. 

	“Welcome, chosen. Open thine eyes and witness the fruits of your lifetimes passed!” The voice said. It was grand and inspired a hope in Trod, instantly extinguishing all of the pain and fear that he had just felt. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the stone bridge was crumbling. In the background, creatures he had heard about in fairy tales about the Dark Sun flew above the towering buildings of Highpine. They clawed and swatted at the comparatively tiny guards who shot arrows and swung their halberds at them. Then, a white robed, hooded figure radiated on the bridge. It stretched its arms out, exuding a faint light from its figure. 

	“Yes, witness destruction that hath been shunned from a world long crumbled! The siege upon doth mind hath begun and soon ye shall bear the burden of-”

	“Hey, hey, hey what’s going on here?” A gentle, but stern voice interrupted. The scenery before Trod froze in place and Trod, terror still resonating in him, searched for the new voice. When he couldn’t locate it, he looked to the robed figure, hoping that it would offer some sort of explanation of what was happening. Instead, the figure lowered its hood, revealing a young man who couldn’t be much older than Trod himself. He had a look of shame on his face, as if he were a child who had been caught sneaking extra food after dinner. Behind him, an older man wearing a finely tailored suit appeared from thin air and startled Trod.

	“Are you insane? It’s an inspection, Steve, not a chronicalization. Goodness, you’ve absolutely overstimulated and terrified him!” The older man said, gesturing at Trod.

	“I know it’s an inspection, but we can change-”

	“Stop. What rule are you forgetting right now?”

	“Yeah, but-”

	“Stop. You know the answer, so say it,” the older man glared at Steve. He sighed.

	“Consider the contributor,” Steve said. The older man nodded his head and again gestured to Trod.

	“Does he look, no, feel like he’s being considered?” The older man asked.

	“But there’s so much we could-”

	“Stop. Steve, stop. I understand that you have quite a vision for what could be. But, one, you’re not in a position for such decisions and two, this isn’t the right intervention type for your grand ideas. Alright? So let’s get this job done and be on our way,” the man said, making his way to Trod. “Oh and get those robes off. They’re not uniform consistent.”