AOR passed into a deserted region, the border of the great thick forest. A place where the trees were already dead, the sky always cloudy, and the ground is blacker than black. But this did not discourage AOR, as this was his home. The mist seemed to settle as though making itself at home, and AOR continued forward. Out in the distance several large birds seemed to circle a very large mountain. The mountain was even more desolate than its surroundings. Composed of nothing but a shagged shape and irregular figure this was nothing but a prison for him. What took minutes to arrive felt like an eternity to him. The iron doors slowly opened as they let their prisoner in, closing with no haste in speed. He passed by many rooms and doors, much of them open the others closed.
He passed by one room that lit with life and energy as he recalled the balls that were held there. But it quickly died as he passed. This happened to a lot of of the rooms as he tried to maintain the zeal to search for his daughter, but to no avail. He finally entered what seemed to be a throne room. But many could have confused it with a torture chamber. It may have been the half-strewn bodies everywhere, the chains that hung from worn away chandeliers, or perhaps it was the chair made of bone that stood in the far center of the room. What ever it may have been he made his way gloomily to the chair. Upon sitting on it, the throne seemed to spring to life and formed to fit its sitters comfort. In a puff of blue smoke a skull full of blue liquid and grey mist formed on his arm rest. Taking it, he brought it to his lips and said, “Here’s to you Emily,” and drank away another soul into oblivion.