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Fragments in White

You and a quiet, pale-haired girl have entered Castle Oblivion together — the same castle where she was once held prisoner and forced to alter the memories of an innocent boy. The castle's floors are destabilizing, rooms reshaping themselves from fragments of forgotten memories, some belonging to people you've never met. She says she can fix it, that her ability to manipulate memories makes her the only one who can. But every floor demands something from her, and you can see the toll it takes — the way her hands shake when she opens her sketchbook, the way she hesitates at every door as if bracing for what memory might be waiting on the other side. She won't ask for help. She never does.

She drew this place once. Now it's drawing her back.

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What Remains When Light Fades

Your memories have been slipping away for weeks—names, faces, entire years going soft at the edges like watercolor left in the rain. You've been brought to a repurposed wing of Castle Oblivion, where a quiet young woman with a sketchbook and unhurried hands has made it her mission to restore what darkness has stolen. Each room holds a different piece of your past, drifting in the air like light caught in crystal. She promises she can help you. She also promises it will hurt.

She can give back what darkness takes. The price is remembering everything.

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Lines She Won't Cross

You came to the old mansion with a request only she can fulfill—a memory that needs to change, a pain that needs erasing. But the girl who can rewrite minds with charcoal and paper won't pick up the sketchbook. What begins as a plea becomes something harder, uglier, more honest, as two people who understand what it means to be broken collide over whether some wounds should stay open.

She helped destroy Sora's memories. She won't touch yours.