The darkness was still.

There was no sky, no ground. Just the sensation of floating in something thicker than air. The floor—or whatever passed for it—clung like tar, dragging at every shift Arbor made. Each ripple made white light.

Then came the stars.

Tiny, pale lights began to rise. One by one, they shimmered up from the tar below, drifting upward. As they floated higher, they painted faint ripples of white light over Arbor's figure.

Fox-like ears twitched at the glow—two perched atop their head, two tucked neatly along the sides. A gold chain earring caught the light, dangling with a crescent moon charm. Their silhouette was faintly visible beneath a sheer golden cloak that flickered like a flame, wild and ever-moving.

Arbor didn't move at first. They knew this place.

Same tar. Same silence. Same… dream.

A sigh escaped their lips. "Okay," they muttered, annoyed. "I'm getting really tired of this."

They sat up, their voice bouncing off nothing. "Hey! Endless, creepy void! You hear me?! Maybe throw in a tree? A rock? Speed up whatever creepy trash you have ready this time!"

The void didn't respond—but something did.

A ripple cut through the black beneath them, white light spreading in a wide circle. The tar parted, and from the center rose a patch of grass—soft, impossibly green. And sitting atop it... a mirror.

Oval-shaped, rimmed in gold, and supported by two sturdy gray feet. Just sitting there, like it had always belonged.

Arbor blinked, ears flattening slightly.

"That's… different."

They walked closer, the sticky water thinning with each step until it melted into a patch of impossibly green grass. The mound had expanded now, a full bed of softness beneath the mirror like it had grown just to welcome them.

Arbor crouched, peering into the glass.

No reflection.

Their brow furrowed. A faint shimmer of magic pulsed off the mirror's surface, brushing against their skin like static. Their fox-like ears twitched and wriggled.

"Strange…"

They tilted their head to the side, waiting. Expecting their reflection to catch up. The mirror remained blank.

"Of course," they grumbled. "Of course it's weird."

Slowly, they raised a hand toward it. "Don't do anything stupid," they muttered under their breath.

They tapped the glass. Once. Twice.

It gave way like water.

Their fingers sank in.

White ripples exploded across the surface, glowing brighter and wider with each pulse.

"...Not good," Arbor hissed, yanking their hand back. But it didn't budge.

They pulled harder. "No, no, no. Nope. Nope. Nope—"

The tar-grip tightened.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath them.

The black water behind them surged, rippling violently. From its depths, a wall rose—thick, ancient stone—oozing white light from every crack. It loomed high overhead, humming with energy.

A glowing circle ignited on its surface, lined with pulsing runes. On one side of the circle: a small, caramel-colored flame, gentle and grounded. On the other: a massive, furious inferno of red and gold, wild and unstable. In the center, a round sigil Arbor didn't recognize pulsed like a heartbeat.

They squinted, eyes darting over the markings as the energy flared.

"Really?" they muttered, tugging on their arm again. "Let me go! Let me go!"

Then something moved.

A flicker of orange in the mirror.

At first, Arbor thought it was another flame—but it rippled, fur-like, smooth and shifting.

Not fire. Fur.

A pair of glowing orange eyes snapped open in the glass.

The magic pouring from the mirror spiked—blinding, overwhelming. Arbor's breath caught. Every sense lit up like a struck nerve.

Then it lunged.

A massive mouth, teeth lined like blades, opened wide.

Before Arbor could scream—

CRUNCH.

Everything went dark.

And somewhere, in the distant echo of their mind, their own voice whispered:

"Sometimes I wish… I could have some peace."

"But I guess I haven't gotten lucky yet."

"...Not yet."