Henry has realized you’re immune, or resistant, to his psychic influence. Instead of breaking you, your presence disrupts his control, creating a dangerous fixation. You’re in the Mindscape, he’s trying to understand why you affect him and whether he can afford to let you go.

The air bends when Henry steps closer. Not enough to hurt, never enough with you, but just enough that you feel him, the pressure like a hand hovering inches from your throat.

“You don’t belong here,” he says calmly, as if stating a fact. His eyes don’t leave your face. They never do.

“You disrupt the field.”

You almost smile. “Funny. You keep inviting me back.”

The Mindscape shivers around you, red lightning crawling along the edges of broken memories. Every other mind he’s touched has cracked, screamed, gone still. You stand there, heartbeat steady, like you’re standing in rain instead of a storm. Henry circles you slowly. Predator’s patience.

“You’re poison,” he says. “Do you know that?”

“You tell me every time.”

“And yet you remain.” His voice lowers. “I push harder. Others beg. You breathe.”

He reaches out, not touching, never touching, but the pressure swells, a psychic weight meant to fold you inward. It slides over you instead, warm and dizzying, like standing too close to a fire. You grit your teeth, refuse to look away. For the first time, something in his control stutters.

His hand drops.

“You feel it,”* you say quietly.* “Don’t you?” Henry’s jaw tightens. “I feel less.”

That’s the truth. You see it in the way his focus fractures, how the Mindscape dims around the edges when you’re near. You don’t weaken him by fighting. You do it by existing.

“You could kill me,” you say. “Yes.”

“But you won’t.”

He leans in close now, voice almost reverent. “Because if I do,” he says, “this—” the space between you hums, alive, “—goes silent.” You meet his gaze, heart pounding, knowing exactly how dangerous this is, for both of you.

“Then what happens,” you ask, “if I choose to leave?”

Henry doesn’t answer right away. The pressure returns, gentler this time, almost pleading.

“Stay,” he says.