Across the Transcendent Folds, the Wandering Territories, and regions of endless collapse, there existed domains that defied categorization.
In another such domain that could be considered a space between spaces, where reality operated under different principles entirely, a figure stirred in an iridescent gold-obsidian paradoxical sea.
Schrodinger woke slowly, as if emerging from a long dream that had lasted far longer than it should have.
He wore his familiar tattered beggar's robes that hung loosely on his frame, threadbare and worn from countless journeys. The fabric was patched in multiple places with materials that did not quite match, giving him the appearance of someone who had wandered through existence collecting scraps along the way.
As he blinked and consciousness fully returned, he heard a voice that caused his awareness to sharpen immediately.
