The room was small, but the argument filling it was anything but.

Ylva stood with her arms crossed, her eyes locked onto Thalion like a predator sizing up prey. Thalion sat on the edge of the cot, his pale hands gripping the wooden frame, his silver hair still matted but his posture marginally better than it had been hours ago.

Jason lay on the floor, using his rolled-up shirt as a pillow, watching the two of them bicker like an exhausted spectator at a tennis match.

"I am not sleeping on the floor," Thalion said, his voice firmer than Jason had heard it since they escaped. "I am the one who was tortured for centuries. I deserve the bed."

"You were carried most of the way here," Ylva shot back, her tail flicking. "I did the carrying. I deserve the bed."

"You have fur. You are literally built for the outdoors."

"And you have magic. Heal yourself a softer place to sleep."

Jason groaned. "Can we please just—"

"No," they both said in unison.

Ylva’s ears flattened. Thalion’s jaw tightened. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut.

Then Ylva sighed. A long, heavy exhale that seemed to drain the fight out of her.

"Fine," she muttered, waving a clawed hand toward the bed. "Take it. You’re injured. Or you were. Whatever."

Thalion raised a brow. "That was... sudden."

"Don’t question it. Just get in the bed before I change my mind."

Thalion hesitated, then slowly rose from the cot and moved to the larger bed. He lay down carefully, his frail body sinking into the thin mattress. Within seconds, his eyes fluttered shut. His breathing evened out. He was asleep almost right away, his chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm.

Jason stared at him. "That was fast."

"He’s exhausted," Ylva said, sitting down on the floor beside Jason. "Despite being carried most of the way. Ironic, isn’t it?"

Jason smirked. "Almost like his body is finally letting him rest because he feels safe for the first time in centuries."

Ylva didn’t respond. She just lay down on the wooden floor, her fur brushing against Jason’s arm. She positioned herself with her back to him, her tail curling around her legs. She did not initiate any contact. Her body was stiff, deliberate, like she was trying to prove something.

Jason knew she was trying to play hard to get.

He also knew she had given up the bed because she wanted to stay on the floor with him. Not because Thalion was injured—most of his injuries were already healed, thanks to his passive magic. Not because the cot was uncomfortable. Because she wanted to be close to him. Even though she would never admit that.

"You didn’t have to give him the bed," Jason said quietly.

"I didn’t give him anything. I chose the floor."

"Because you wanted to be near me."

Ylva’s ears twitched. "Keep dreaming."

Jason chuckled, the sound low and tired. "I am dreaming. That’s the problem. I’m so tired I can’t tell what’s real anymore."

"Then shut up and go to sleep."

He opened his mouth to fire back a witty retort, but the words never came. His eyes were heavy. His body was heavy. The floor, despite being hard and cold, felt like the softest thing in the world.

Before he knew it, his eyes closed.

-

Jason found himself standing in a very strange place.

The ground beneath his feet was not stone, not dirt, not wood. It was glass—dark, reflective glass that showed his own face staring back at him. But his reflection was wrong. Older. Wearier. Scars on his cheeks that he didn’t have.

Above him, the sky was not a sky. It was a ceiling of swirling colors—purple, gold, deep crimson—like a nebula had been compressed into a room. There were no walls, no doors, no windows. Just endless glass floor and endless colored void.

"This isn’t a dream," Jason muttered, his voice echoing in the emptiness.

"No," a voice answered. "It is not."

Jason spun around.

Standing a few feet away was a figure wrapped in shadows. Not a person—more like the idea of a person. Tall. Hooded. Its face was hidden, but two points of light glowed where eyes should be. One silver. One gold.

"Who the hell are you?" Jason demanded, his fists clenching.

The figure tilted its head. "You do not recognize me? I am what sleeps beneath your adaptation. I am you." 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Jason’s blood ran cold. "My system? How do you know about that?"

"I am the system," the figure said simply. "Or at least... a part of it. A fragment. You have been adapting to this world’s magic, Jason. But you have not yet adapted to me."

Jason took a step back. His foot slipped on the glass, but he caught himself. "This is a dream. You’re not real."

The figure stepped forward. The shadows around it rippled like water.

"Dreams are the only place we can speak," it said. "I have been waiting for you to sleep. To rest long enough. You are always running, always fighting, always lying. But now... now you are still."

Jason’s heart pounded. "What do you want?"

The figure raised a shadowed hand. Points of light danced between its fingers—silver, gold, and a third color he didn’t recognize. Deep violet.

"I want you to survive," it said. "And to do that, you must wake up."

"I am awake."

"No." The figure’s voice softened, almost sad. "Not yet. But you will be. And when you are... remember this place. Remember that you are not alone in your own mind."

Jason tried to speak, but the glass beneath him cracked. The swirling colors above began to spiral downward, pulling at him like a whirlpool.

"Wait!" Jason shouted.

The figure did not answer. It simply watched as the ground gave way and Jason fell into darkness.

-

Jason’s eyes snapped open.

He was back on the floor of the small room. Ylva was still beside him, her breathing slow and even. Thalion was still asleep on the bed, his silver hair spread across the pillow.

Dusk was creeping in showing they had slept for a few hours.

Jason sat up slowly, his hand pressed against his chest. His heart was racing. His mind was spinning.

"What the fuck was that?" he whispered.

But no one answered but there was a strong chance this was just a dream despite what he had heard or did the magic he had adapted to, despite it being so little, somehow affect him?