Tired Doll

everywhere the Doll looks, it sees its reflection repeating out towards infinity. how long has it been here? it's never really had a good grasp on the passage of time, but it truly can't tell how long it's been here, and it has no way to know if it's made any progress. is there even a way out?

hidden corners, passageways obscured by yet more reflections, the confusion made even worse by the fact that not all of the mirrors even exist. the magic leaking out of the Doll's cracks fuels illusions, phantom surfaces through which one might stumble.

as much as the maze winds and twists, so too does time move in bursts. the Doll presses onward; there's no comfort to be found for it here. it must escape.