Nightingale walked in the Mist.
In it, she could see the world had only two colors, black and white.
The outline of all things turned vague, and the lines that used to be straight were folded, and curved, as incomprehensible and abstract as doodles painted by children.
The feeling was hard to get a sense of, and it took her a long time to distinguish the different types of lines. If she handled them well, there was nothing that would restrain her, and she could travel unimpeded in the Mist. Though the wall seemed to link up into one stretch, with a little change of the angle, she could see a gate to the real world, a gate that never existed in reality.
In the Mist, the concepts of up, down, forward, and backward were not consistent, and they would shift and even overlap. Now she did this again and sneaked into the castle under guards' noses, following the changeable lines. Step by step through the void, she went through the ceiling and entered Anna's chamber.
