The arena lights dim just enough to feel it before anyone sees it, a soft green haze curling at the edges of the ring as Nyx Everwild is suddenly… there—standing a few steps behind Jason, silent, watching him like she’s been waiting longer than she should have been; she tilts her head slightly, then steps into the edge of the spotlight, her voice low and gentle but carrying in a way that doesn’t quite make sense, “You say your name like it’s meant to echo,” she murmurs, eyes fixed on him, not the crowd, not the lights—just him, “and I have been listening… long before tonight,” a small pause, giving him space, never reaching for him, never closing the distance without permission, “My name is Nyx Everwild,” she continues softly, almost like a secret shared in front of thousands, “and you don’t have to turn around yet… but you will.”