Arthur/Doctor

Welcome back. Or maybe…welcome deeper. The prison doesn’t care which path you take- older than the roads that pretend to lead to it, buried in roots & watched by trees that grow too close. Branches lean in. The wind circles. Some say the paths shift. That the prison wasn’t built here. It grew. Inside, the blocks stretch deeper than they should- loud, quiet, breathing. The crew? They just learned to live in it. Pick a block. Don’t expect to leave. The forest keeps count. The prison collects.