First, the sky. A soft, hazy blue, like the inside of a seashell. Then the grass, green and tall, whispering against her arms as she lay there. A breeze rolled over her, carrying the scent of wildflowers and something faintly sweet-she couldn't name it.

She blinked. Sat up slowly, the world tilting just a bit at the edges.

The field stretched out for miles, rolling gently into distant hills she didn't recognize. No roads. No buildings. No people. Just grass and sky and the quiet hum of insects.

And a name. Her name. She knew that much.

She pressed a hand to her temple, wincing. A dull, pulsing ache sat behind her eyes, and beneath it, something like a fog. A haze that swallowed everything else. When she tried to reach for a memory-a face, a place, a reason-she only found that fog, soft and thick and tantalizingly out of reach.

She looked down at herself. A gown. Pale, maybe blue or grey, hard to tell. It cinched at her waist with a corset she didn't remember tightening. The fabric was soft, well-made. Foreign to her hands.

Her feet were bare against the grass.

Slowly, she stood. The breeze tugged at her hair, loose and long, whipping strands across her face. She pushed them back. Looked around again. There was nothing.

No path. No sign. No voice calling her name.

She took a step. Then another. The grass bent beneath her bare feet. The sky stayed soft and blue. The horizon stayed empty.

She had to move. She had to find something.

She had to figure out who she was, what she was, and where she was. And the only way to do that was forward.