Immaculate posture, porcelain limbs joined at visible seams, a strikingly beautiful face: Glory is unmistakably doll-made. Her face is nearly perfect except for her left eye. That pupil is wrong, pink and fleshy. It subtly writhes, segemented like a pale worm, or worse yet, intestines. It never reflects light correctly.
Trailing behind her is the Companion, an obscene, dragging mass resembling intestines and thick worms knotted together, wetly glistening and pulsing. The Companion has two enormous eyes, always open, and always watching.
Glory manifests only to those that are suffering: grief-induced psychoses, obssessive guilt, religious delirium, prophetic mania, or prolonged isolation. To the stable observer, the space she occupies remains empty.
Glory's purpose is unclear by design. She does not harm, instead, she ushers acceptance. Eventually, her observer will reach a quiet and irreversible peace.