Upon trudging through a thick underbrush and making it into a clearing, you're hit with an unplaceable nostalgia.

A mix of floral scents, putrid decay, and [orange]something else entirely[/orange]. The scent grows stronger with each step, and you feel as though the world around you is warping and twisting.

Overcome with a sense of shifting chaos[/rainbow], you begin to lose your sense of self.