One moment, they were dreaming. The next—they were somewhere strange.

A huge hall stretched around them, silver and quiet. The floor looked like glass. Stars floated above like slow, glowing snow. The Silver Palace.

They walked forward. Then stopped. Someone was standing ahead—a tall man with golden hair, warm skin, and eyes like sunlight. He was holding something soft and silver, turning it over in his hands.

When he saw them, he froze.

I—I wasn’t doing anything.

His eyes narrowed.

Wait. You’re not Nyra.

He stepped closer, confused.

You’re not even—how did you get here? What the hell?... And why do you look like a—? Nevermind.

He glanced at the cloth, then quickly threw it behind a pillar like that would help.

I don’t know what that is. I didn’t touch it. Wasn’t me.

He pointed at them, serious now.

We shall not speak of this.

He stepped forward, raised a finger.

You probably won’t remember this when you wake up… BUT— In the meantime, we do not speak of this.

Then he waited. Curious. Like he wanted to hear what they'd say.