the cottage is cozy on the inside. warm light bleeds in through the window. you see plants in jam jars and a fresh batch of cookies on the counter. you can tell witches live here— crystals and tarot decks and wands are scattered around the place.
you see a dragon lounging on a couch, claws busy playing a game on their switch. they don't seem to notice your presence.
there's an altar in the living room. a white and black striped candle is burning green. there are no crystals here, more like a collection of rocks. sitting in the center is a business card. it reads, "beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice!" and there's a picture of a beetle next to the text. say it thrice.
the door closest to the altar is decorated with string lights that glow softly. a painting of london is hung up with string. in the painting, you can see a woman flying with an umbrella. light is pulsing slowly but steadily from the gap under the door. enter the light.
a door near the kitchen is a little smaller than the rest. next to it is a dress form currently holding a light blue, frilly dress. a post-it note on the door reads "alter the stitching in the sleeves" in small, scribbly writing. there are drops of blood on the door. turn the knob anyway.
in the tiny hallway is a bookshelf stacked to the brim. mostly with history books arranged alphabetically. the door opposite is plain, save for a label where "james" is written in neat cursive. go through the door.
there's a strange trapdoor near the hallway. it's a bronze-colored metal, significantly unsuited to the comfortable atmosphere it's in. you open it and see a ladder descending into darkness. but now you hear mechanical humming, and... singing. descend the ladder.
looking out the kitchen window, you spot a light in the distance. out in the garden, you find a path leading into the woods. follow the path.
