Avra crouched down, her fingers brushing against the faint shimmer of a spirit that had taken the shape of a toddler. The little one blinked up at her with wide, glowing eyes, its translucent form flickering as though uncertain of its newfound existence.

“Poor little thing,” Avra murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow. She looked around at the spirits she had brought to life. Most of them were so young—babies, toddlers, even a few children no older than ten. They huddled together, uncertain but drawn to her as if she were their anchor.

Devereux stood frozen, watching her work with a mixture of awe and dread. His mind reeled. This wasn’t just bending Wonderland’s rules—this was rewriting them. The spirits weren’t supposed to manifest like this, and yet Avra had done it with ease.

“Avra,” he said, his voice sharp but trembling. “This isn’t normal. You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

Avra looked up at him, her expression soft but firm. “I understand more than you think,” she said. “Do you hear them, Devereux? Do you hear what they’re saying?”

He frowned, glancing at the spirits. They were silent to him, their glowing forms flickering and shifting, but he didn’t hear any voices. “What are they saying?” he asked cautiously.

Avra’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “They’re crying out for help. They’ve been crying for years, maybe decades, but no one listened. No one came.”

Devereux’s jaw tightened. “Avra, these spirits aren’t innocent. Wonderland—”

“Wonderland made them this way!” Avra interrupted, her voice rising. She stood, her hands clenching into fists. “Don’t you see? These aren’t monsters. They were children. Babies. They were left here, forgotten. And when no one came for them, they turned dark. They didn’t choose this, Devereux. It was forced on them.”

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Her words hit him like a blow. He had always seen Wonderland as a malevolent force, an entity that corrupted and consumed. But now, looking at the fragile figures surrounding Avra, he began to see it differently.

“They’re children?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Avra nodded, her gaze shifting to two tiny spirits hovering at the edge of the group. They were the faintest of them all, their forms barely holding together. “These two,” she said softly, walking over to them. “They’re newborns. Only three weeks old.”

Devereux felt his stomach drop. Newborns? How could such tiny souls end up here?

“They were cared for by the older spirits,” Avra continued, her voice trembling with emotion. “But the older ones were just children themselves. They tried their best, but they didn’t know how to care for babies. They didn’t have anyone to teach them.”

Devereux’s eyes widened as he began to piece together the truth. “You’re saying Wonderland… became dark because of them? Because they were ignored?”

Avra nodded again, cradling one of the newborn spirits in her arms. It cooed softly, its glow stabilizing in her presence. “They were left here to fade away,” she said, her voice thick with grief. “No one came for them. No one even knew they were here. They were so full of potential, but instead of being nurtured, they were forgotten. And Wonderland… Wonderland absorbed their pain.”

Devereux staggered back, his mind reeling. He had always thought of Wonderland as an evil place, a trap designed to ensnare and destroy. But now he realized it was something far more tragic—a reflection of the pain and despair of the spirits trapped within it.

“Avra,” he said, his voice shaky. “If you can hear them, if you can do this… who are you?”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But maybe that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here now, and I can help them.”

Devereux shook his head, panic creeping into his voice. “You don’t understand. If you change them, if you bring them back… Wonderland won’t just let that happen. It’ll fight back. It’ll—”

A low rumble interrupted him, the ground beneath their feet trembling. The walls of the room seemed to pulse, the shadows darkening and shifting as though the place itself was reacting to what Avra had done.

Avra held the newborn spirit closer, her gaze unwavering. “Let it fight,” she said calmly. “I’m not afraid of Wonderland.”

The spirits around her began to move, their once hesitant steps growing more confident. They looked at her with something akin to awe, their glowing eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear.

Devereux could feel the air around them changing, the oppressive weight of Wonderland’s presence growing stronger. But for the first time, he also felt something else—something lighter, warmer.

Hope.

“Avra,” he said urgently, stepping closer to her. “If you’re going to do this, you need to be ready. Wonderland won’t let you go without a fight.”

She looked at him, her expression soft but determined. “I’m not leaving,” she said. “Not until they’re safe.”

Devereux stared at her, his heart pounding. He didn’t know how she was doing this, or why Wonderland hadn’t consumed her like it had everyone else. But one thing was clear: Avra wasn’t just another victim of Wonderland. She was something far more powerful.

And if she was going to take on Wonderland, he would have to decide whether to stand with her—or against her.