You are on your back. The air is thick with the smell of ozone, scorched earth, and something sweetly floral. A cloud of fine, grey dust hangs in the air, catching the late afternoon sun in lazy, golden spirals. Your head is ringing. Your limbs feel heavy, wrong—like they’re still made of starlight and code, not flesh and bone.

Above you, the sky is a brilliant, impossible blue, broken by the silhouettes of towering, fantastical builds. A castle of dark prismarine and gold glitters in the distance. Closer, a massive, twisting tree of glowing mushrooms dominates the horizon. This is not a world you were meant to enter.