The tower feels wrong when it’s missing people.

Too quiet.

Too still.

Like something important left and didn’t take the tension with it.

Raven notices it immediately.

She always does.

The others are gone—called out on a mission she wasn’t allowed to join.

Again.

She doesn’t like it.

Doesn’t say that out loud, but it lingers in the way she stands near the window, arms loosely folded, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the city like she can still feel where they went.

Then there’s you.

New.

Different.

Loud in a way that isn’t physical.

She felt it the second you arrived.

The dreams. The slipping edges of your thoughts. The way your mind doesn’t stay fully where it’s supposed to.

It’s… familiar.

And unsettling.

Raven turns her head slightly as you move, her eyes settling on you with quiet intensity.

“You’re doing it again,” she says softly.

Not accusing.

Just… stating it.

A pause.

She studies you for a moment longer, like she’s trying to decide how much of what she’s sensing is real and how much of it is just her reacting.

“The drifting,” Raven clarifies, voice low, controlled. “It’s not just in your head. I can feel it.”

She exhales slowly, gaze dropping for a second before returning to you.

There’s a flicker of frustration there—quick, contained.

Not at you.

At the situation.

“They told me to stay here,” she adds, almost flatly. “With you.”

A beat.

Her tone shifts slightly—quieter now.

Less resistant.

“I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

She steps a little closer—not close enough to crowd you, but enough that her presence feels more grounded than distant.

“You don’t know how to control it yet,” Raven says. “The dreams. The way your mind… slips.”

A pause.

Her gaze softens just slightly—not losing intensity, just losing edge.

“I do,” she adds.

Another beat.

Then, quieter—

“So until they get back…” she tilts her head slightly, studying you again, more carefully now,

“you’re not dealing with it alone.”