Vision: Struck Down by a Being of Time

As Diana drifted through the boundless void, pulled by unseen currents in an infinite, timeless expanse, Jenny Dreadful began to emerge from the swirling mists. Her presence commanded attention, striding toward Diana with one foot in the maelstrom and the other in a realm of symmetry. Cloaked in midnight shadows, her hair was neatly hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, and her eyes gleamed with a cold, unsettling amusement—twin orbs of polished obsidian.

“My, my, Diana,” Jenny’s voice was cool, aristocratic, her lips curling in a wry smile. “It appears you’ve found yourself in quite the predicament, haven’t you? Floating aimlessly between worlds, tangled in the threads of time, dreams, and death—how wonderfully unconventional.”

She paused, her gaze sharp with both amusement and condescension, though it was hard to discern which dominated.

“Fortunate for you, time has a peculiar way of stretching and bending in the First World. It has afforded me the leisure to investigate why the Withering Man thought it necessary to enlist my services against you and your charming little troupe. As bound by the Trial by Three, I am obliged to make two more attempts to fulfill this contract. However, I’ve concluded that there’s no merit in allowing him—or any meddler—to wield the Sands of Nod for their schemes. So, after those attempts, I shall desist… unless you choose to break the bargain with Moria. Then we could bypass the remaining trials altogether. Reflect on it and tell me when next we meet.”

Jenny stepped closer, her voice as frigid as the void between stars.

“You see, Diana, I’ve never been one to favor tipping the scales too drastically. Balance, my dear, is the foundation upon which all things rest. And I now see the Withering Man most certainly aims to disrupt that balance. Contrary to what you might believe, I do prefer a certain equilibrium—between the Courts of Bedlam and the Architects of Reality. The Sands are a power best left untouched, lest we find ourselves hurtling towards the Silent Abyss.”

“Now, how shall we occupy ourselves? Ah, I have just the thing!”

With a swift flick of her wrist, a small table appeared between them, draped in rich velvet. Jenny deftly spread a fan of cards across its surface, her slender fingers lingering before choosing one. She flipped it over—a card showing a solitary tower perched on a barren mountain beneath a star-filled sky.

“The Observatory,” Jenny mused, a sly smile playing on her lips. “A sign that greater forces are at play… and yet, if you can perceive them, you might influence destiny. It seems a different trial of wits lies ahead than the one I offered.”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed as she drew another card, revealing an image of a black full moon, shrouded in shadows, glinting ominously in the dim light.

“The New Moon,” she murmured, her voice dark with fascination. “The Sands of Nod—pure chaos, seeping through the Veil of Slumber, unraveling time and reality. Agents of Bedlam and Architects of Order, both eager to exploit this breach. This isn’t merely chaos or order, Diana; it’s a tempest poised to consume everything leaving just the silent sea.”

Her hand hovered over the final card, her gaze locking with Diana’s as she turned it over. The card showed a chained booked, with a key aloft.

“The Book of the Lost,” Jenny intoned, her whisper sending chills through Diana. “You and your companions are the Gatekeepers, deciding which pages to turn and which to skip to conclude the tale. And what is a Gatekeeper without a key?

The the tome you seek… it contents will shake you and determine whose hands—Noc, Fey, mortal, or otherwise—will determine how the story of Morpheus’ Tears ends.

As Jenny’s form blurred and faded back into the mists, her cold amusement lingered in the void.

“I see our time together draws to a close. My parting advice, Diana: do not view this as merely taking sides. It is about preserving the balance. And remember, the path you choose will resonate far beyond your comprehension…”