A castle built from shards of broken mirrors floats in a sky of eternal twilight. The kingdom below is shattered into fragments, each piece suspended in midair and connected by glowing bridges. The inhabitants of the kingdom are twisted reflections of their former selves, their faces cracked like porcelain, their movements jerky and unnatural. In the throne room of the castle, a monarch with eyes like black holes sits upon a throne made of shifting glass, their reflection flickering between hundreds of alternate realities. They smile as they raise a goblet, filled with liquid shadows, and toast to their kingdom’s eternal suffering