When Tory heard the voice like ash and bones and burnt flesh echoing through his head, demanding he come and see, he was asleep on the couch in his tiny downtown apartment, dreaming. He dreamed a lot lately, mostly of a place that was Ashdown but not-Ashdown, eternally shrouded in rain and mist. This was why he was glad that when the mayor's office and the police restricted travel, his boss ordered everyone to stay home, seeing as he worked at a city park. Wasn't much hope of getting work done in this weather anyway. It had given the young landscaper a creepy feeling up the back of his neck, like those dreams did. Like he wasn't in Ashdown any longer, but not-Ashdown.

He had heard the stories about this place ever since he moved here, that weird things happened in the rain and fog, that you could find yourself in a different place that was like Ashdown except not. He really didn't know what to make of them… until he started having those weird dreams. Now he wasn't sure. He had no idea who to ask about it either, since he was afraid he'd be seen as a weird jerk from out of town who should know better, who shouldn't have moved here in the first place. So many questions without answers.

It was raining more gently now, and the sound of it on the roof and windows was what had lulled him to sleep. He dreamed of not-Ashdown, a weird place where Rider-Waite didn't exist and magic seemed to be real and the cats spoke to him. Dreamed of those missing kids. Then the voice came, and it woke him up with a gasp. He sat up sharply and stared around his apartment, which suddenly seemed strange and not-his-apartment. Like it was in not-Ashdown. It took him a few minutes to shake the disorientation off, and when he finally got his wits back about him he knew exactly where he needed to go. Where he had been practically ordered by the voice to go: Waite State Park.

Tory knew the place well; he'd very nearly gotten a landscaping job there, but the lingering images in his mind of his father's perpetually disapproving looks from when he'd worked for the state back in Northampton had made him seek out a city job instead. He spent a lot of time there communing with nature in his off hours. Swinging his legs to the floor, he sought out his work boots and pulled them on, then headed to the door. He grabbed his keys and made his way down the hall to the stairwell and down to the main floor of the apartment building, and slowly opened the door to the outside, unable to shake the sensation that something was wrong about all this.

The rain was fine and drizzly, more like a heavy mist. Through it he saw shapes, other people, walking in the direction he had been called to. "Huh," he grunted to himself. Maybe he wasn't the only one having weird dreams and hearing voices. "Welp, nothing ventured." Stepping out into the empty street (into the strange not-Ashdown), he headed toward the park as well. Maybe there would be answers there.

He half-feared that he wouldn't like what he found.