[When you pass through, you hear the carefree laughter of children, the thwack of practice weapons and the distant bark of dogs. You smell flower-heavy night air, sweet lotus and watermelon, and you taste the rich burn of spices and alcohol upon your tongue.

You emerge on the other side, and find yourself standing on a dock in the middle of a lovely, prosperous lakeside town. It’s warm, bright, humid midday – you’d expect it to be bustling, considering the number of food stalls and prosperous-looking businesses here.

You’re all alone, though. The town’s wholly unpopulated, as though everyone dropped everything all at once and simply vanished into thin air. You don’t even hear birdsong. A sense of deep nostalgia’s hit you, looking at these sights, but the rich scents you experienced coming through the tunnel have been replaced with the smell of ash on the constant breeze.

The breeze also makes a banner flap, where it’s tied to one of the railings of a pagoda further down the dock. The bright purple color and movement catch your eye, and the brands on your hands warm at the sight of it. THE FIRST RULE, it reads.

You could investigate the pagoda, or check the rest of this place out – up to you.]