The golden light stretched on ahead as steadily as before, a thin and patient thread through the dark beneath the jungle, neither brightening nor fading along the path. It offered no sudden revelation, no flare of warning, only that same hazy shimmer winding between roots and damp earth as if nothing had changed at all.
But within the Peepholes, the glow began to deepen.
Where it had slipped into the openings before in faint, wavering strands, it now gathered more densely, pooling in the dark mouths of the holes and pulsing with a slow, inviting rhythm. The light in those hollows grew warmer and brighter by degrees, each pulse lingering a little longer than the last, until the shadows around them seemed thinner for it. Toward the spaces where Deimos and Noah had gone, the glow seemed almost purposeful, not commanding but encouraging, brightening in soft, repeated beats as though urging them farther in.
The drowsiness followed just as quietly.
It does not strike all at once, but settles over Remi like a hand laid gently across his eyes, tugging at the edges of thought until the dark and the light began to blur together. Melita will feel it too, that creeping heaviness folding through her limbs and dragging at her attention no matter how fiercely she tried to hold onto it. For Amhran, already caught in the pull of the Peepholes, the tiredness became impossible to resist, the pulsing glow turning soft and distant as sleep rose up to meet him.
For Remi, Melita, and Amhran, their sleep is not restful, but a lively thing, and far ahead, barely more than a shape at the edge of sight, something stands in the haze. At first, it looks like it might be a stag: There is the suggestion of long legs, of a narrow body held too still, of antlers lifting pale and branching against the glow. Yet the longer it is looked at, the less certain the shape becomes. Its outline shifts in small, impossible ways, one feature slipping into another before the eye can settle on it: antlers becoming roots, roots becoming bone, the curve of a head tilting into something almost human before stretching long again. It is too far away to see clearly and too strange to mistake for anything ordinary, a distant, waiting thing half-hidden in the dream-fog.
Melita, Remi, and Amhran have fallen into a deep sleep!
The light inside of the peepholes has grown brighter!
You have 24 hours to reply.
But within the Peepholes, the glow began to deepen.
Where it had slipped into the openings before in faint, wavering strands, it now gathered more densely, pooling in the dark mouths of the holes and pulsing with a slow, inviting rhythm. The light in those hollows grew warmer and brighter by degrees, each pulse lingering a little longer than the last, until the shadows around them seemed thinner for it. Toward the spaces where Deimos and Noah had gone, the glow seemed almost purposeful, not commanding but encouraging, brightening in soft, repeated beats as though urging them farther in.
The drowsiness followed just as quietly.
It does not strike all at once, but settles over Remi like a hand laid gently across his eyes, tugging at the edges of thought until the dark and the light began to blur together. Melita will feel it too, that creeping heaviness folding through her limbs and dragging at her attention no matter how fiercely she tried to hold onto it. For Amhran, already caught in the pull of the Peepholes, the tiredness became impossible to resist, the pulsing glow turning soft and distant as sleep rose up to meet him.
For Remi, Melita, and Amhran, their sleep is not restful, but a lively thing, and far ahead, barely more than a shape at the edge of sight, something stands in the haze. At first, it looks like it might be a stag: There is the suggestion of long legs, of a narrow body held too still, of antlers lifting pale and branching against the glow. Yet the longer it is looked at, the less certain the shape becomes. Its outline shifts in small, impossible ways, one feature slipping into another before the eye can settle on it: antlers becoming roots, roots becoming bone, the curve of a head tilting into something almost human before stretching long again. It is too far away to see clearly and too strange to mistake for anything ordinary, a distant, waiting thing half-hidden in the dream-fog.
Melita, Remi, and Amhran have fallen into a deep sleep!
The light inside of the peepholes has grown brighter!
You have 24 hours to reply.
