The 12th Mansion, Windy Island – Nightfall

The sea is quiet tonight. Only the faint hum of the wind moves through the hollow corridors of the 12th Mansion. Dust curls in the dim light of a lantern resting on the table beside a half-open journal. Outside, the rhythmic sound of waves against the cliffside pulses like a heartbeat. Nashatra sits by the table, her hat still on, staring at the ink-stained page before her.

Nashatra (softly, writing): “...the air here tastes different. Still. Untouched. I almost forgot what silence could sound like.” Her handwriting wavers as she pauses, the lantern flame flickering with the wind seeping through a crack in the windowpane. She glances toward it, eyes white and unfocused, like she’s listening to something beyond the room.

Nashatra (thinking): It’s here again… that whisper in the current. The one that stirs just before I close my eyes. A faint chime resonates from the brass pocket watch beside her journal — a signal used by the Rose Seekers to mark the approach of the Dreamsphere threshold. Her hand lingers over it, hesitant. Voice (echoing memory, Adelaide’s tone): “Don’t force your entry. The Dreamsphere breathes. Let it draw you in, Nash. Don’t fight the pull.”

Nashatra exhales, leaning back in the chair. Her reflection in the window stares back — blank expression, dim lantern-light painting shadows under her eyes.

Nashatra: “Adelaide… you make it sound peaceful. But it never is.”

She rises, coat brushing softly against her skirt, the faint jingle of her belt buckle echoing through the empty hall. She walks toward the door, opening it to the moonlit balcony overlooking Windy Island — the coastline a soft silver line beneath her. The Dreamsphere portal begins to stir in her mind, like the rising tide within sleep. Her voice lowers, calm but edged with purpose. Nashatra: “Of no place… and every place.” (She smirks faintly.) “Toa Zuku… you always did love your riddles.” The wind catches her hat briefly, tugging it upward before she steadies it with one hand. She closes her eyes. Nashatra (softly): “One more step, and I’m no longer here.”

The last sound before silence: the faint echo of the sea, fading beneath the hum of another world.