This is not a literal island, but a place of civilisation, even if that civilisation is long gone. Here, the detritus of the world, or a world, has gathered. The metal rusts before your eyes, decaying with a bubbling and peeling that makes it look as though it burns. Towers, mountains, gargantuan monoliths of metal pepper the landscape. Clouds of crows fill the sky, black dots against a decaying horizon.

People have lived here, in ramshackle shelters of dead metal.

From the corner of your eye, you see the dolls moving.