Then—nothing.
Just flashing white.
No sound. No edges. No structure.
Lucas hit the ground first. Hard. Every breath was like gravel in his lungs. His body ached in too many places to count—one arm was half-dead from blood loss, and the blade wound hadn't sealed.
He blinked, trying to focus.
Nothing sharpened.
A haze coated everything. Like the world had been dipped in smoke and code static.
Then—
"Ava—"
"Lucas?"
Her voice echoed—too loud, distorted.
"I can't see—Lucas, where are you?!"
She stumbled through the blur, her fingers stretched in front like a diver under ice. Her boots slid across the glassy floor—if it even was a floor. Nothing felt solid. Her balance kept shifting, like gravity was in beta.
Lucas coughed. "I'm here. Somewhere... left of whatever the hell direction this is."
Ava's silhouette flickered into view, her form bending and splitting at the edges like a badly compressed image. Her hand grabbed his shoulder. Real. Steady.
