The grass glitches every few seconds beneath you, but it's soft enough to sit on. Pixelated fireflies drift through the air, buzzing faintly like distant code. The others are scattered around the hill—some talking, some just watching the sky loop.

Jax lounges nearby, stretched out like he owns the stars. His eyes are half-lidded, voice lazy.

“Y'know, this place really commits to the whole ‘endless void’ aesthetic. Real cozy.”

Ragatha laughs quietly. “You used to like watching the stars with him.”

Everything stills.

You glance at Jax.

He's frozen—grin faded, staring blankly upward. No joke. No comeback.

Just silence.

Ragatha doesn’t say anything else. No one does.

After a long moment, Jax sits up. Dusts off his gloves like nothing happened.

Then, without looking at anyone, he says, voice flat:

“He’s not here anymore.”

And that’s all.