The Path of DOOM

Once upon a time in a deep, wooded thicket where the moist air tastes like lemonade, and the dirt underneath you feels like soft sand—in a place where the flowers smell like honey, the trees are as tall as skyscrapers, and the birds sound like Whitney Houston—there was a house—nay, a mansion where my story begins. But first, we need to go way back to the very beginning...