Poison.

When my eyes snapped open, my chest rose in a sharp, uneven breath. Autumna’s words lingered, heavy as chains: You can return home, Juno.

For a moment, I lay still, listening to my heartbeat hammering in my ears, each thump echoing like a drum in the cavern of my skull. The ceiling above me wasn’t familiar; the room was extravagant—high-arched windows framed by gold drapery, marble floors polished so brightly they reflected the chandelier above. Sunlight scattered across the walls in patterns that almost felt alive, painting the space with wealth I wasn’t accustomed to. It felt… wrong.

Sylvaine. My last memory of her… I couldn’t finish the thought. My chest ached with the gap between memory and reality.

I ripped the sheets away and stumbled to my feet, swinging the door open. The hallway stretched pristine and silent, lined with vases, ornate sculptures, and portraits of faces I didn’t know, all staring down at me like judges. A maid nearly dropped her tray upon seeing me, eyes wide with shock.

“The boy has awoken!” she gasped, scurrying off. “I must inform him!”

“Him?” I called, confused. “Is Sylvaine here?”

“She should be in the dining room, down the hall to the right,” she replied, cautious. Her eyes flicked with concern, but there was also something wary, like she wasn’t sure what to expect from me.

I forced myself not to run, though my legs moved faster than my thoughts. Each step echoed sharply against the polished marble, the sound amplifying the tension in my chest. Turning the corner, double doors loomed ahead, tall and imposing, polished to perfection. My hand trembled as I pushed them open.

The dining room stretched endlessly, sunlight streaming in from tall windows that framed the city outside. The long banquet table reflected the light, gleaming almost painfully. And there—Sylvaine. She sat poised near the head of the table, a fork in hand. When she saw me, her chair screeched as she stood.

“Juno! You’re awake?!”

My knees buckled, striking the marble with a hollow echo. My lips quivered. No words came. Sylvaine rushed to me, hands gripping my shoulders like she could hold me together.

“Are you alright? You’ve been out for four days—”

“How…?” My voice cracked.

“How are you alive?” I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

Her brow furrowed, confusion flashing in her copper-brown eyes. “How…?”

“How are we alive?” My voice broke further, desperation lining each word.

Before she could answer, slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the hall, sharp and intrusive, like it didn’t belong. I turned toward the sound. A tall man leaned casually against the doorway, silver hair cropped short, eyes molten copper and unblinking. He wore a tailored crimson-and-gold suit that screamed prestige. The Sunvault Grand Prix host—the man who orchestrated chaos beneath polished appearances.

“The hero has awoken,” he said, smirking, straightening his posture as he stepped fully into the room.

“Hero?” I echoed, confused.

“He told me what you did,” Sylvaine said, avoiding my gaze. “You carried her, unconscious, through the desert to Solaris, even though the worm was still out there.”

My blood ran cold.

“You collapsed after. We had to pull you both through the final checkpoint. I guess you don’t remember.”

I didn’t. Only fragments: heat, blinding light, pain, and then… nothing.

“Come now,” he said, motioning to the chairs with casual authority.

I followed, dazed. Sylvaine took the seat beside me, her hand brushing mine, a tether to something real. He poured a drink from a decanter I hadn’t noticed before, leaning back with an ease that suggested he was recounting a tale he’d only seen from a distance.

“We were chasing Gideon when we found you,” he explained. “A few scouts, loyal mechanics… The worm hasn’t resurfaced since. Everyone’s too afraid to venture past the barrier.”

I sat forward, elbows on the table. “Where’s Gideon now?”

“Not sure. He comes and goes. Doesn’t report to me,” he said with a shrug.

“And Sylvaine?” I glanced at her.

“She’s been here the whole time,” he nodded.

“And you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Explore, within reason. Avoid closed-off areas.”

“…Thanks,” I muttered, the words heavy on my tongue.

“Vassier,” he said smoothly, bowing slightly. “Wren Vassier. Don’t mention it. You’ve more than earned your keep.”

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping behind me. “I need some air.”

“Take all the time you need, Juno,” he said, raising a glass, smile casual.

Walking back to my room, my legs felt like lead, memories like scattered shards I couldn’t piece together. Autumna’s words hovered: You can go home. But what did that even mean?

The room was quiet, almost too quiet. I pulled aside the curtain. Solaris stretched endlessly beneath me—layers of metal and light, alive, humming, impossible. I tried to focus, but my mind kept fracturing: flashes of desert, Sylvaine, heat, screaming, shadows of pain. Autumna had to know more—but how could I reach her?

A knock at the door.

“It’s Gideon,” came a familiar voice, low and tentative.

I leaned on the door, staying still.

“I’m glad you’re in one piece. Thanks… for Sylvaine.”

He spoke quickly, without waiting for a reply.

“I’ve been thinking about her. About how I told myself I wanted to protect her. But I never really was. I care, more than I admitted to myself. But I wasn’t the one she leaned on. When things got real… I failed her.”

He hesitated. “When I was chasing her… I thought I was doing the right thing. Stopping her before she got herself killed. But who am I to decide that?”

“One time, I tied her down with some of my guys—it wasn’t the right way, but it worked. Then we were ambushed by Exidus. He handed me a gun and told me to kill her. Said it would prove my loyalty.”

My chest tightened.

“Nothing came out.”

“Just an empty click.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

The door shook slightly as he pounded once with his fist.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you. Maybe because I know you’re better than me. Maybe because I want to believe someone else still is. Treat her better than I ever have. I’m not asking forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. Just… someone who’ll do right by her.”

I finally opened the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Me? I’m not going anywhere,” he said, tired. Then he left.

The city outside shimmered impossibly, yet felt distant. I needed Autumna. Collapsing onto the bed, the softness threatened to swallow me, but I fought to remain aware. I closed my eyes, thinking of the desert, of Sylvaine, of heat, darkness, chaos. Slowly, walls dissolved, bed vanished. I fell, weightless, until I landed, not in Solaris, but in my old apartment.

The same peeling wallpaper, crooked blinds leaking narrow streams of sunlight, faint smell of old instant noodles. Dust motes hung lazily in the air. And there she was, sitting cross-legged, a popsicle in hand.

“Finally,” she said casually. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

“Autumna,” I breathed.

“Mm-hm. You sound half-dead. You eat yet?”

“I’m fine… What happened to the worm?”

“Oh, that? I took care of it,” she said casually, like I’d asked about a broken cup.

“You… took care of it?”

“Exactly. One minute it was trying to eat you, the next… wasn’t. Problem solved.”

“You’re telling me a skyscraper-sized monster just—”

“—had a bad day,” she finished, shrugging.

Her tone turned serious. “You’re still looking for a way home, right?”

“That’s the idea.”

“You’re looking for a structure. It doesn’t belong here. Never did.”

“Where is it?”

“I have zero clue,” she admitted. “If I knew, I’d tell you. I’m not here to be helpful, just so you don’t waste time chasing ghosts. You’ll know it when you see it. Until then… You walk.”

“Walk where?”

“This world won’t let you find it on a map. You’ll have to let it find you. Things that don’t belong here… are dangerous. Even to those they call home.”