Ashley Bowen didn't wake up again until the next day.
She opened her eyes to a room with excellent lighting and a white color scheme. The window was cracked open, letting in a ray of brilliant sunlight.
There was no one in the room, but she was certain of one thing: this wasn't the Grand Palace.
She slipped her bare feet into a pair of soft, bunny-eared slippers and walked toward the window.
The beautiful scenery outside took her by surprise.
The sky was a violet-blue, vast and cloudless.
The courtyard before her was a tapestry of white, green, yellow, purple, and red.
A vast grove of Gallian plane trees surrounded an ocean of purple lavender, interspersed with patches of greenish-yellow grass. Farther away, small red flowers she couldn't name were scattered about.
Right in front of her window stood two symmetrical Dutch windmills, turning lazily. The cool breeze in the room came from them.
