Ren didn't sleep.
Not because he wasn't tired—but because El'therra wouldn't let him.
The cavern changed shape every time he closed his eyes. A couch turned into a tree. The ceiling morphed into a swirling mural of dragons, stars, or once, his middle school math teacher tap dancing in a wizard hat.
"I hate this place," Ren muttered, pressing his palm to his forehead. "My brain is not rated for this kind of exposure."
"Then clear it," Lys said simply. She was seated cross-legged on a floating platform of folded light. "The world bends because your thoughts do. The stronger your will, the calmer it becomes."
"Cool. So I have to meditate in a magic funhouse while babysitting a sentient slime who tried to absorb my boots."
In the background, Gloop let out a delighted gloo? and jiggled in rhythm with an invisible beat.
"Correct," Lys said, eyes still closed. "This is not a place you conquer. It's a place that reflects."
Ren sat.
Crossed his legs.
Breathed.
Inhale. Exhale.
The world flickered—from kaleidoscopic tunnels to a calm green field. Then back to a field of clocks. Then to a room with walls made of glass showing a thousand reflections of himself, each slightly different.
One version looked older. Wiser. Another younger. One was holding a sword. Another… wore a crown.
He stood up suddenly.
"I've seen enough."
Lys opened one eye. "You're resisting."
"I'm filtering," Ren said. "This place wants me to accept everything I might be—but I'm not ready for that. So instead, I'll show it who I am right now."
The air snapped into place.
The illusion vanished.
The world flattened into a silent, starry field. The sky was endless. No horizon. No weight.
Just peace.
Even Gloop was quiet.
Lys floated down beside him. "You're adapting faster than I expected."
"I'm not trying to master it," Ren said. "Just trying to stop it from showing me versions of me in clown makeup. That's a step, right?"
She laughed.
But her tone shifted as she stared into the sky. "This world doesn't give you hallucinations. It gives you warnings."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
Before she could answer, the field rippled.
A distant sound pulsed through the stars. Not a voice, but something vast. Deep. Like a drumbeat from a colossus no one could see.
DOOM. DOOM. DOOM.
Ren staggered. "What was—?"
Lys grabbed his arm.
"El'therra… reacted. That wasn't from your thoughts. That was from something outside. Someone else just entered this world."
DOOM.
The sky cracked.
A ripple surged through the air like a sonic boom.
Far across the field, a black spire erupted from the horizon—rising higher, twisting like a corkscrew tower made of ink and stormclouds.
The stars around it fled.
And every instinct in Ren's body screamed:
"Run."
Lys's voice dropped to a whisper. "That… should not be here."
Ren's fists clenched.
But Gloop had already moved forward.
The little slime's shape pulsed—he sensed it too. Something old. Something wrong. But instead of fear, he trembled with curiosity.
"Hey, don't go poking the horror spike," Ren muttered, jogging forward. "That's my job."
And as he crossed the threshold of the calming field, and back into the twisting, shifting realm of possibility—
He smiled.
"Guess nap time's over."