Alice puts on her best blue dress then sits down at her writing desk with a fresh sheet of paper.

My Dear Mother and Margaret,
Do not think this is your fault. I simply cannot stand to be here and alive anymore. This is the only way. Remember, I will always love you.

Your Loving

Alice Kingsley Hightopp

She sets down the quill, a raven feather, and picks up the small vial. The liquid at the bottom of it swirls around, hypnotizing. Tears run down her scratched and bruised cheeks. She lifts the vial to her lips and drinks the bitter liquid in one gulp. Gasping she clutches her head. The room wheels in front of her.

"Fairfarren" she whispers before collapsing on the floor in a heap.

/

Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see.

/

It would be a week before anyone found her note lying on the floor in her room.

It would be another three months before detectives pin the abuse and disappearance of one Alice K. Crump on her husband Robert Crump.

Meanwhile the citizens of Underland stand watch over their sleeping Champion.