The world 'dissolved.'
Not gradually. Not with warning.
One moment Viktor was lying on the bed, Helena's unconscious body pressed against him, his tail buried in her ass.
The next—
'Moonlight.'
Cool. Silver. Bathing everything in ethereal luminescence.
Viktor stood.
His body felt... weightless. Translucent. Like he was made of mist instead of flesh.
He looked down at his hands. They were there, but 'wrong.' Semi-transparent. He could see through them to the grass beneath his feet.
'Grass?'
Viktor's head snapped up.
He was in a garden.
Not just any garden. It was eerily similar to what Helena had created on the first floor—the same impossible beauty, the same verdant abundance. Trees heavy with fruit. Flowers blooming in impossible colors. A pond reflecting moonlight like liquid silver.
But this garden felt... 'older.' More primal. Like nature itself had grown wild and untamed here.
"Where...?"
His voice came out wrong. Echoing. Like speaking underwater.
