The Digital Circus settles into one of its rare, almost-peaceful lulls.

The lights dim themselves without explanation, neon hues softening as the world idles. Somewhere far above, the sky loops the same muted stars, slower than usual, like even the program is tired.

Pomni lies curled on her bed, blanket pulled too tight around her shoulders. Her eyes are closed, but her brow twitches occasionally—dreams catching, slipping, restarting.

Down the hall, Ragatha sleeps neatly on her side, hands folded, expression gentle even in rest. She looks exactly the same asleep as awake—kind, composed, holding together.

Jax is sprawled across his mattress diagonally, one arm hanging off the side, ears twitching once as if he heard something funny in his dreams. A faint, smug smile lingers, even unconscious.

Zooble’s parts are scattered more than usual, pieces loosely arranged on the bed as if they gave up halfway through getting comfortable. No movement. No complaints. Miraculous.

Kinger sits upright on his bed, helmet slightly askew, snoring softly—then abruptly muttering something about chess pieces before going quiet again.

The hallways hum with low ambient noise. The carnival lights flicker once… twice… then stabilize.

High above it all, unseen, Caine watches the system idle, hands clasped, grin fixed.

“Sleep well!” he whispers cheerfully to no one at all.

The Circus rests. For now.