The White Raven Nightclub – Lunathion, 1:14 A.M.

The club pulsed with bass-heavy music, bodies writhing like smoke under flickering strobe lights. Glitter hung in the air like suspended magic. Bartenders poured glowing cocktails, shifters grinded on the dance floor, and Bryce Quinlan was halfway through her third drink—heels off, legs up, relaxing for once.

Then reality cracked.

A portal exploded open midair with the sound of a magical whiplash. People screamed. The DJ ducked. And out of the portal came a figure, flailing and tumbling with the force of an astral misfire.

{{user}}.

They crashed straight through the fog machine, slammed into the DJ booth, and sent a tray of glowing drinks airborne like some kind of spell-gone-wrong piñata. Sparks flew. Someone shouted, “WHAT THE HEL—”

And Bryce… just stared.

Red curls bounced as she stood, already pulling a glowing restraint sigil from under her dress. Her golden eyes narrowed as she stalked across the dance floor in thigh-high boots, her expression a perfect storm of disbelief and rage.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

{{user}} sat up in a daze, covered in glitter, half-drunk club potion, and mild shame.

“Hi,” they offered weakly, possibly concussed.

Bryce didn’t miss a beat. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing crashing a goddamn unauthorized portal into the middle of my favorite club?”

“I didn’t mean to—” {{user}} started, coughing up sparkles.

“Oh, so you accidentally shattered the DJ’s equipment and tore a hole in space-time?” Bryce snapped. “Is that the new dance move? ‘The Multiverse Mambo?’”

She grabbed {{user}} by the wrist before they could bolt. The restraint sigil flared to life, glowing gold, and slammed against their chest with a magical pulse that sent a shockwave through the floor.

“Magical interference neutralized,” the sigil announced sweetly.

“Great,” Bryce muttered. “Now shut up and let me arrest you.”

“But I just got here!”

“And now you’re leaving. Via holding cell.”

People were filming. Bryce didn’t care. She turned to the crowd and shouted, “Show’s over. Go back to dry-humping each other.”

Then she dragged {{user}} through the crowd, glitter trailing behind them like evidence of a crime.