As the two of you sit in her room—a room that isn’t even real—you remember.

Every time you’ve slept in one of her rooms, you’ve always awakened to what now surrounds you: ruins.

You glance around. The room is dilapidated. The fireplace has collapsed, the candles have fallen to the floor, and weeds and grass have forced their way up through the broken floorboards.

Standing near the crumbled fireplace is a man—young, but familiar. His bag sits near the doorway, where the door itself is long gone.

You know him.

The Wandering Merchant.

"My child, you’ve been sitting there for days. Are you okay?"

You tell him everything—about the Faithless Child and how you searched for a shovel to bury him. About the Construct who needs a coin. About his son—the Drunk. About the Madam, the Heart, and the Corrupted Bishop. About the visions.

You ask how he is here. Where she is. What is going on.

"I’ve banished her. Banished her twisted magics and brought you here—to reality."

But what even is reality anymore?

"My son was attacked. Something was stolen from him. Something I gave him... something that was once given to me."

The Emerald Coin.

"Yes. The Emerald Coin. To find it, I need something from the same graveyard you visited. A censer—The Corrupted Censer. It was once used by the Corrupted Bishop to open the gates of Heaven. Its power is limited now. It no longer opens gates—but it does point the way... to the Prince himself."

The Emerald Prince—the one you’ve been seeking all along.

You agree to help him if, in return, he will give you the coin. You need the coin to get the shovel.

"Sounds like a fair trade, child."