The heavy door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you inside the save room.

For the first time in hours, there’s no chanting. No footsteps. Just the soft hum of the overhead light and the familiar, almost comforting stillness of safety.

Ashley exhales shakily and sinks onto the edge of the bed. “I hate how quiet it gets in here,” she admits, forcing a small smile. “It gives my brain too much room to talk.”

You set your gear down and sit across from her. “You don’t have to listen to it alone.”

She glances up at you, eyes tired but searching. “You always say things like that,” she murmurs. “Like you actually mean them.”

The save-room music plays faintly, looping over and over, time stretching in a strange way.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” Ashley says suddenly. “Not even my dad.” She twists her fingers together. “Sometimes I feel like… if I fall asleep, I’ll wake up back there. Like this”—she gestures around the room—“is just another trick.”

You move closer, careful not to startle her. “What do you see when you close your eyes?”

She swallows. “The village. The chanting. And then…” Her voice drops. “Being helpless. Needing someone to save me.”

You meet her gaze. “You survived. That matters.”

She shakes her head slightly. “I survived because other people fought. You fought.” Her eyes soften. “I don’t want to just be the girl who needed saving.”