Alice! Receive this children's story and deposit it with your kind hand where the dreams of childhood rest, intertwined in the mystical garland of memory, like the already withered flowers that were gathered in a distant land, destined for the offerings of a pilgrim who never returned.
*****
The awakening was not gentle.
It was violent, abrupt, as if Grimm's consciousness had been ripped from nothing and thrown carelessly inside a body that still hadn't finished responding.
His senses returned one by one, first the weight of his own armor, then the cold, and finally the smell. A thick, metallic smell, impossible to ignore, that filled the air and seemed to adhere to every corner of the place.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was red.
It was not a simple stain or a tinted surface. It was a complete sea of blood, spreading across the floor as if it had replaced all forms of life in that place.
There was no earth, no visible stone, only that viscous layer that reflected a nonexistent light. Grimm remained motionless for a few seconds, as if his mind was trying to understand what he was seeing, but he found no answers.
He stood up slowly.
Every movement was heavy, clumsy, as if his body hadn't finished remembering itself.
The slight dizziness that accompanied him made the world feel unstable, as if it were about to collapse at any moment. Even so, he managed to stand up, maintaining his balance with difficulty.
It was then that he noticed it.
Around him there was nothing but death.
Mountains of bones rose in different directions, some larger than others, piled up without order or respect, as if someone had decided that the bodies no longer deserved to even keep their shape.
There were no traces of flesh on most of them, only white structures, clean in some cases and in others still stained with fresh blood that dripped slowly to the floor.
Some bones were broken.
Others had been torn out.
And many showed clear signs of having been violently torn apart.
Grimm did not react with horror.
He did not scream, nor did he step back.
He simply observed.
As if this were not new to him, or as if he had already lost the ability to be surprised by something like that.
His gaze traveled around the place until it found the only thing that seemed to offer an exit.
A door.
It was made of wood, simple in appearance, but it stood out in the middle of that grotesque scene as something out of place.
Without thinking too much, he began to walk towards it, his steps echoing strangely on the bloody surface, as if each footstep had a deeper echo than normal.
When he arrived, he extended his hand and took the doorknob.
He tried to open it.
But it did not yield.
Frowning slightly under his helmet, he pushed with more force, now using his weight to force it.
The door remained motionless, firm, as if it were sealed from the other side.
Grimm repeated the attempt once more, this time with greater intensity, but the result was the same.
It was locked and he was locked in that room.
The silence returned.
For an instant, everything was calm again, as if the world was waiting for something.
And then, he heard it.
A scream.
It came from above.
Grimm quickly raised his gaze, trying to locate the origin of that sound that broke the stillness of the place. He barely managed to focus his sight toward the ceiling when a figure appeared.
Falling.
The body descended at great speed.
There was no time for warnings or reactions.
The impact was immediate.
The man crashed against the floor with brutal force, his head collapsing against the surface in a wet and unpleasant sound.
The scream was cut off abruptly, replaced by the explosion of blood that spread in all directions, mixing with the red sea that already dominated the place.
The body remained motionless.
Lifeless.
Grimm observed the scene for a few seconds before approaching. He did not do it with urgency or fear, but with an unsettling calm, as if this were part of something he had to accept.
He leaned slightly, inspecting what the man was carrying with him.
A sword.
A shield.
And finally, a key.
He took it.
The still fresh blood stained the metal, dripping slowly between his gloved fingers. Grimm held it for a moment, as if he understood that this small object was more important than it seemed. Then he stood up and returned to the door.
He inserted the key.
He turned it.
This time, the door yielded.
It opened with a slight creak, revealing a new space on the other side. Grimm crossed the threshold without hesitation, leaving behind the sea of blood and the remains of the fallen.
What he found was a staircase.
It ascended.
It seemed endless.
He approached the edge and looked up, noticing that the structure extended much further than his sight could reach. Curiously, he understood something at that moment: the place from where that man had fallen must be somewhere above that same staircase.
Without saying anything, he began to climb.
Each step took him further from the known, although nothing in that place seemed to make any sense.
The brick walls surrounding the staircase were covered with clocks, placed without any apparent order.
Some were broken, others were spinning backwards, and several were simply moving without marking any time.
There were objects embedded in the walls.
Furniture.
Drawers.
Shelves full of books that did not seem to belong to any coherent world.
Closed chests, some half-open, as if something inside was trying to escape or as if it had already done so.
But Grimm did not stop.
He did not touch anything.
He did not deviate.
Because none of that mattered.
There was only one thing in his mind.
Alicia.
The name resonated inside him with an insistence that he could not ignore. He did not know why, he did not remember enough to understand it, but the need to find her was absolute. It was not a desire.
It was an obligation.
Finally, he reached the last step.
In front of him, another door.
Without hesitation, he opened it.
And what he found on the other side made no sense at all.
The doors of the room opened and closed by themselves, moving to the rhythm of an invisible music that filled the air.
It was a strange melody, cheerful and disturbing at the same time, as if it hid something behind its apparent lightness.
White rabbits.
There were dozens of them.
They danced.
They jumped.
And they ate.
But not normal food.
They devoured the flesh of fallen knights, tearing off pieces with small teeth stained red.
The empty armors remained scattered on the floor, some still with bones inside, others completely clean.
It was grotesque.
It was absurd.
And yet, Grimm walked.
He advanced down the hallway as if none of that was worthy of his attention, as if his mind had decided to ignore the madness that surrounded him.
As he passed next to a wooden balcony, a thick mist suddenly appeared, covering everything. For a few seconds, his vision disappeared completely, plunging him into an absolute white that did not allow him to distinguish anything.
And then, just as it arrived, it disappeared.
—Meow! But… who do we have here?
The voice stopped him.
Feminine and playful.
Grimm turned his head, searching for the origin of the sound. His eyes scanned the place until he finally saw her.
On the balcony.
A woman with feline features rested with total tranquility, observing him from above. Her ears moved slightly, and her smile was wide, almost exaggerated, as if she enjoyed every second of that scene.
—Meow… but what do we have here. Something… thin vertically, narrow horizontally and rounded… well, it is nothing more nor less than Wonderland, a country without end… and where are you in such a hurry to go, knight?
Her voice had a mocking but also curious tone.
Grimm did not hesitate.
—I am looking for Alicia. Have you seen her?
The answer was immediate, direct, without detours.
The cat woman tilted her head slightly, as if savoring the name.
—Alicia…? Mmm… perhaps yes, perhaps no. In this place, dear knight, you can reach wherever you want… at any moment. So leave the hurry… meow.
Her words did not offer a clear answer.
But they did not seem to lie either.
—But tell me… miserable knight —she continued, licking her lips slightly—, what is your name? If you tell me… I will give you a gift. Meow.
Grimm remained silent for a few seconds, observing his surroundings, as if evaluating the situation. Finally, he responded.
—I… my name is Grimm. What is your name?
The woman's smile widened even more.
—My name is Cheshire… although some call me the Cheshire Cat. And since I made a promise… I will give you a gift. But you must choose only one… meow.
She extended her hand.
Six objects appeared in front of Grimm, floating slightly in the air, each with a different presence, as if they hid something beyond their form.
Grimm observed them.
He did not know exactly what they did.
But he chose.
The ring of life.
Without hesitation, he extended his hand and took it, sealing his decision in that very instant. Cheshire observed him with a satisfied smile, as if she already knew what was going to happen.
—Interesting choice… meow.
Grimm did not respond.
He simply continued on his way.