Linda excused herself. As she stood, she rested a hand briefly on John’s shoulder.

  “Try to get some rest,” she said softly. “You look exhausted.”

  John glanced up at her, but she had already turned away, disappearing down the hall. The floorboards creaked beneath her steps, each sound carrying farther than it should in the dim light. The hallway swallowed her quickly, the shadows thickening toward what John assumed was a bedroom.

  A moment later, Alora entered and sat beside him.

  “John,” she said, lowering her voice just enough to sound serious, “I think there’s something wrong with Tulip.”

  He straightened immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern cutting through his fatigue.

  “She hasn’t gone outside,” Alora said. Her expression was worried—but her tone gave her away. “I think she’s broken.”

  John blinked, too tired to immediately grasp why this was happening. “She was outside just a little while ago,” he said, calm and nonconfrontational.

  Alora stared at him, visibly offended that she had to clarify. “I meant to go ,” she said, laughing quietly. “She hasn’t gone once. What did you do?”

  John paused, actually thinking this time. Then the corner of his mouth lifted.

  “…You know,” he said slowly, “now that you mention it—she hasn’t eaten either.”

  Alora was still watching him when a soft tapping sound came from the doorway. Tulip padded into the room, nose low, tail swaying lazily behind her.

  She stopped at the wall near the hall and pressed her nose to it, sniffing with focused intensity. Then she shuffled a few steps to the left and did it again, as if the wall itself had deeply offended her.

  John watched in silence.

  “…See?” Alora said, gesturing toward the dog. “That’s not normal.”

  Tulip sneezed, sat down, and immediately lost interest, wandering off toward the darker part of the room without another glance at either of them.

  John exhaled through his nose. “She’s fine,” he said. “She’s just… being a dog.”

  Alora hummed, unconvinced, but let it go.

  “Okay,” Alora said, her voice shifting. “But on a serious note…”

  She leaned slightly toward him. “While you were talking to Linda, I was in the other room. Chad and Rook were outside.”

  She paused, then glanced around the corner of the kitchen, checking the hallway before continuing. Satisfied, she came back, lowering her voice.

  That was enough to pull John fully awake. The fog in his head thinned. “And?” he asked.

  “You were right about Manny,” she said. There was no humor left in her tone now. “Chad said Asani has found some way to make the nightmares stronger. Not just worse—.”

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  John didn’t interrupt.

  “He’s planning to come this way,” Alora continued. “Chad said things are escalating. That it’s starting to get really dangerous.” She met John’s eyes, and this time she didn’t look like she was exaggerating.

  “John,” Alora said softly, “I don’t think we can leave right now. It’s too dangerous. And we don’t even know how to get out of here.”

  John looked toward the fire. The flames reflected in his eyes, restless and uneasy.

  “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “This has turned into something bigger than I thought.” He exhaled slowly. “And I don’t want to leave Linda defenseless. I know she has Chad and Rook—but if I can help at all, I should.”

  Alora watched him closely.

  “I don’t know what’s out there,” John continued, quieter now. “Every time I think I understand this place, something new happens. And it feels like I’m falling further behind instead of catching up.”

  A moment of silence settled over the room. Then the door opened, and Chad stepped inside alone.

  He took in John and Alora before speaking. “John, you’ve been through a lot today. You should rest.” His gaze shifted to Alora. “And I hope your time here with Linda has been kinder than when you first arrived in our world. She speaks highly of you.”

  Alora hesitated, caught off guard. “Oh—uh. Thanks. Yeah. I do love that woman. She has a huge heart.”

  Chad’s eyes dropped briefly to the floor.

  John leaned forward. “Hey, Chad.”

  “Yes, John?”

  “What is it Asani wants?”

  Chad looked at him directly. “He wants to be complete.”

  John shook his head. “Okay—see, that just complicates things. I don’t want another runaround. Please. I’m trying to make sense of all this.”

  Chad exhaled slowly. “I know.” He paused. “Asani believes he can become a dreamer. He thinks that’s what he’s missing.”

  John’s brow furrowed. “Believes?”

  “Yes,” Chad said. “And he believes the only way to get there is through us.”

  A beat.

  “You. Linda. And me.”

  John stared at him. “By killing us.”

  Chad didn’t look away. “That’s his theory.”

  “Then why us?” John asked immediately. “Why not Rook? Or Knight?”

  The questions came too fast, tripping over each other. Chad’s jaw tightened—not angry, but strained, like someone being pulled back into a conversation he’d already decided to end.

  “Because, John,” he said flatly, “we are direct links to Xerathos.”

  John sucked in a sharp breath.

  Alora stiffened beside him, her expression shifting—not confusion, but recognition. The name echoed in her memory, suddenly heavy, suddenly familiar.

  “That’s—” John swallowed. “That’s my father.”

  Chad nodded once. “Yes.”

  “You knew him?” John pressed. “You him?”

  “Yes,” Chad said again. “And like I told you before—think of us as family. Because we are.” His gaze hardened slightly. “All of us came from him.”

  The room felt smaller.

  Chad straightened. “That’s all for tonight. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  Not a suggestion. A boundary.

  Chad turned to leave, but before he could take more than a step, Tulip came trotting over, her paws clicking happily against the hardwood. She stopped in front of him, tail wagging, face bright with unmistakable affection.

  Chad paused.

  He looked down at her, and for just a moment, a small smile surfaced—unguarded, genuine—before he continued down the darkened hall and disappeared from view.

  Alora watched him go, then glanced back at John. “Look at that,” she teased softly. “You have siblings.”

  John stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “That’s still so weird to me,” he said. “How would I not know any of them? Or remember them?”

  Alora shrugged slightly. “I mean… it explains why they all recognize you.” She hesitated. “And you did say Chad’s name before he introduced himself.”

  John didn’t respond. His gaze drifted downward as he replayed the moments in his head—each encounter, each flicker of familiarity he’d brushed aside.

  Alora reached over and rested her hand on top of his.

  “I’m sure Linda can explain it better than Chad,” she said gently. “Try not to overthink it.”

  John exhaled, nodding faintly, though his thoughts were already spiraling again.

  Chad didn’t slow as he moved down the hall.

  The house was quiet now—too quiet for how many people were inside it. The warmth from the common room faded with each step, replaced by something cooler, heavier. The air felt denser near the far end of the corridor, like the house itself was holding its breath.

  He stopped outside Linda’s door.

  For a moment, he listened.

  Nothing obvious. No movement. No sound. But the feeling persisted—an old pressure he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Chad lifted a hand and knocked once. Soft. Deliberate.

  “Linda,” he said quietly.

  There was a pause.

  Then, from the other side of the door, her voice answered—already awake.

  “I know,” she said.

  Chad closed his eyes.