The room was dim, lit only by the weak glow of a flickering lantern. Cole sat cross-legged on the cold floor, his breathing steady but shallow.


    The hum of his pocket dimension felt closer now—an eerie vibration that seemed to buzz inside his solar plexus node rather than in the air around him. The Solar Plexus Node was not a physical organ but a metaphysical bundle of energy intertwined with the user''s essence. It''s deep within their body—a mix of black and silver hues, constantly in flux, like ink dissolving in water.


    It was the key connecting the user to their personal pocket dimension, allowing them to momentarily enter a different space out of reality tied to their identity.


    Cole clenched his fists, his palms damp with sweat, as the weight of his focus pressed down on him.


    He stared at his hand, the skin pale and trembling under the dim light. He tried to imagine it slipping out of sync with the world, willing it to lose its solidity and become transparent as it was lost into a different space. At first, there was nothing. His hand remained stubbornly physical, the flesh heavy with doubt and frustration.


    Then, a prickling sensation spread up his arm, like icy needles piercing his skin. His breath paused as his fingertips began to shimmer. The edges of his hand grew hazy, blurring as if the air itself were swallowing him piece by piece. A faint, black mist coiled from his fingers, twisting and dissipating like smoke caught in water.


    For a split second, his fingers passed through the cold stone floor. The sensation was jarring—cold and sharp, as though he’d pushed his hand into ice water laced with shards of glass. He yanked his hand back, his chest tightening with a mix of exhilaration and fear. The black mist evaporated, and his hand was solid again, trembling as if it had been plunged into another world and barely returned.


    Cole exhaled shakily, staring at his hand with dilated eyes. He could feel the faint pull of his personal pocket dimension still lingering, beckoning him to try again, to dive deeper. But he wasn’t sure if he was ready—and he did not want to pay the price for overextending.


    Getting up from the floor, Cole turned off the lantern and switched on the lights. His training using Voidcraft had to be cut short today. That man was visiting him today—it had been a while since he last saw him.


    Exiting the room, he walked down the stairs and got ready to prepare snacks and tea. It wasn’t that he really wanted to accommodate the person, but more that it felt like he was obliged to. The man had somewhat taken care—or watched over him for the past eight years.


    Cole always started off making dinner by washing his hands—he felt cleaner that way. The kettle whistled as Cole poured boiling water over the tea bag, watching the dark amber spread. He added a careful splash of milk, swirling it into a soft caramel hue. The faint aroma rose as he stirred, the clink of the spoon against the mug quiet in the room.


    Lifting the cup, he sipped, the warmth and creamy sweetness grounding him. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough—a small comfort. He then repeated this, making a second cup for the man coming.


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    Placing the cups at opposite ends of the table, Cole carefully arranged the plates, each holding a handful of soft chocolate-chip cookies. His hands moved mechanically, his thoughts elsewhere.


    The doorbell rang, sharp and abrupt.


    ‘Already?’


    Cole’s chest tightened as he made his way to the front door. He braced himself. He’d done this before—he could handle it. If he just kept telling himself it would be fine then it should be, right? Without hesitating, he opened the door.


    “Hey,” the man said curtly, his tone as impersonal as always.


    Cole looked him up and down, forcing himself to stay calm. He didn’t want to show weakness or vulnerability. “Come in.”


    Silence settled over them—not the comfortable kind, but the suffocating sort, dense with unsaid words. Cole’s leg bounced under the table, a nervous rhythm he barely noticed until he forced himself to stop. He needed to hold it together.


    Finally, Cole broke the stalemate. “Why did you come?” he asked, his voice firmer than he felt.


    The man took a sip of his tea, his exterior as calm as Cole attempted to be. “As you know.” He began. “Next week, you will be transported to the Abyss.” He took another pause, observing Cole. This was something Cole hated, he hated the gaze of this man penetrating his very existence, as if he had no choice but to submit. “How are you feeling?”


    “It will be easy.” Cole said, also taking a sip from his tea. The taste was not as sweet as before.


    The man’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The trial is not easy.”


    “Why wouldn’t it be?” Cole shot back, his voice carrying an edge. “It was easy for you.”


    A pause stretched between them, longer this time. The air grew heavier, the tea and cookies on the table now symbols of a warmth that neither could summon.


    The man looked towards his tea. “You are not me, Cole.”


    “I know I''m not.” Cole spat, his voice laced with something bitter. “But what’s so hard about the trial? I will clear it.”


    The man leaned back in his chair. “Just take it seriously. Do not fail.” He said, his voice stern.


    Cole also stared down at his tea, his reflection distorted in the dark liquid. “I am,” he murmured, softer this time, his words tinged with a vulnerability he hadn’t meant to reveal. “I don’t have a choice.”


    The man’s expression shifted, but only slightly. “If this is about—”


    “Don’t mention his name.” Cole interrupted, his voice cold and final.


    The room went silent again, with how many times silence eloped these two individuals you would expect them to be used to it—however that was never the case.


    “Is that all?” Cole asked, his tone almost mocking now. “You came to check if I was ready? Well, if that’s it, you can go. I’ve been ready. Failure isn’t an option.”


    The man’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that.”


    He rose from his chair and walked to the door. As he reached it, he paused, glancing back one last time.


    “Make sure you attend the festival next week,” he said before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.


    The sound of the latch clicked. Cole let out a long sigh, his body sagging in his chair as though the man’s presence had been pressing down on him the entire time.


    His gaze drifted to the untouched plate of cookies.


    ‘He didn’t even take one.’