Cara Stein paused, the carousel’s rusted music a discordant lullaby. The eggs loomed, their painted eyes following her. Each held a silent promise—or threat. She'd been drawn here by whispers of shifting seasons, of harvests that bloomed in perpetual twilight. A single rabbit hopped past, its fur unnaturally dark. Something felt wrong with the air, thick and sweet like overripe fruit. The path ahead beckoned, leading deeper into the strange carnival’s heart. Was this a game? Or something far more sinister? She took another step forward, her boots echoing on the stone.