I crawl into bed, expecting Tina to make good on her promise of another Christmas gift, but sleep overtakes me before she ever arrives. One moment I'm staring at the ceiling, half-listening for footsteps, and the next, everything slips away.

When I open my eyes again, I'm no longer in my room.

I find myself standing in Vage's room.

For a moment, my vision goes fuzzy, as though someone has smeared grease across my eyes. The world blurs and doubles, and I have to blink several times before it slowly comes back into focus. The familiar shapes of the room settle into place, sharp and unmistakable, and a knot tightens in my chest.

I really hadn't expected to come back here. Last night was supposed to be my final treatment with the white light. That was what Vage had said. Yet here I am again, standing in the same alien space that has haunted my dreams and waking thoughts alike.

I wait for the glow, but it never comes.

No blinding radiance envelops me this time. No warmth, no pressure, no sensation of being examined down to my bones. Instead, something far stranger happens.

Words appear in front of my eyes.

They hover in midair, crisp and luminous, as if projected directly onto my vision.

{INITIALIZING… DONE}

{SYNCHRONIZING… DONE}

{POWERING UP… DONE}

My heart stutters. I lift a hand instinctively, waving it through the text, but my fingers pass straight through the glowing words as if they aren't really there.

"What's going on?" I call out, my voice echoing faintly in the room. "Vage?"

The words continue to scroll.

{SYSTEMS CHECK… PASSED}

{ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL}….

Then, just as abruptly as they appeared, the text vanishes. The room feels unnaturally quiet without it, and I'm left staring at empty air, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Before I can call out again, new words flash into existence.

'Go through the door.'

An arrow appears beneath the text, bright and insistent, pointing to my right. When I turn my head, the arrow moves with me, staying perfectly aligned with my vision. My breath catches.

To my right is an opening identical to the one I remember from the last time I saw Vage: a tall, rectangular doorway filled with absolute darkness. It's not shadowed or dim—it's pitch black, as though light itself refuses to enter.

The arrow now points directly at it.

"But I can't see in there," I protest, my voice unsteady. "I need you to guide me."

The words blink once. Then again.

'Go through the door.'

I let out a long, frustrated sigh. Whatever is happening, it doesn't seem like I have a choice in it. Steeling myself, I take a step forward and pass through the midnight portal.

The moment I stepped through the portal, all my vision was gone.

I stop dead, my hands lifting slightly as panic prickles across my skin. I wait, hoping Vage will appear beside me, or that the white light will return to explain what's happening. Instead, something even more shocking occurs.

My eyes begin to adjust.

Slowly, impossibly, shapes begin to emerge from the darkness. The world resolves into dim outlines washed in a deep red glow, as though everything is being viewed through tinted glass. The light is low, but clear enough to distinguish forms.

I realize I'm standing on some elevated walkway.

There are no visible walls, no ceiling, no sense of distance beyond the narrow path stretching ahead of me. Beyond its edges is nothing—just endless darkness. An arrow appears once more in my vision, pointing straight ahead.

Swallowing hard, I follow it.

Each step feels guided and deliberate. The arrow shifts whenever I turn my head, correcting my path before I can make a wrong move. Left. Right. Forward again. I lose all sense of direction, trusting the guidance implicitly despite how unsettling it feels. It's like having a GPS wired directly into my mind.

Eventually, the arrows lead me to another doorway.

This one is different. I can see through it.

Beyond the threshold, Vage is seated atop a smooth, cylindrical structure, her posture rigid and composed. Her eyes are closed, her hands resting calmly at her sides.

Relief floods through me.

Before I can speak, words blaze across my vision, brighter and sharper than before.

'You may enter, but do not speak.'

The doorway opens silently. I step through, my chest tight with emotion, ready to call her name, to tell her how glad I am to see her again. But the words flash again, almost painfully bright this time, as if shouting at me.

I clamp my mouth shut.

'Think your words to me, and I will see them.'

I stare at Vage, unsure of what to do; my thoughts are all over. She wasn't even moving, and she kept her eyes closed. I take a cautious step closer, worry creeping in as I study her stillness.

Is something wrong?

I focus on the thought, directing it toward her as best I can.

Are you okay?

'I am fine, thank you.'

The response appears instantly. A shiver runs down my spine. So it worked. Vage can really hear me.

Understanding dawns slowly, and a moment later, the words confirm it.

'Yes. Those are tiny robots. You would call them nanites. They have linked our minds together, and they will assist you in your coming battles with the demons.'

My breath catches, pondering that I have nanites in my blood and in my head now.

I nod, my thoughts carefully forming around a single word.

'Thank you,' I thought.

'Please, be seated.'

An arrow appears, pointing to a spot on the floor directly in front of Vage. I lower myself onto it, folding my legs beneath me. Her eyes remain closed, her expression serene but distant, and I can't shake the feeling that she's holding herself together through sheer will.

'Close your eyes.'

I obey.

The world dissolves.

When sensation returns, warm sand presses beneath my feet. I open my eyes to a vast shoreline of red sand stretching endlessly in both directions. Azure waves roll gently against the shore, glowing faintly beneath a sky dominated by two luminous moons.

I turn in awe, my breath stolen by the beauty of it all.

"This is my home planet," Vage's voice says softly from behind me.

I spin around, and I see Vage standing there, eyes open, her skin glowing faintly in a way I've never seen before. There's a strength to her presence here, but also something fragile beneath it.

"I'm sorry that I worried you," she continues. "I have been very weak from laying our hatchlings. I could not see you before."

She steps beside me, her gaze fixed on the horizon. I follow her eyes, struck silent by the enormity of it.

"Children?" I ask, stunned. "And… are we really on your home planet now?"

"No," she says gently. "We are within our own minds. I can speak to you this way when I cannot be out there."

For just a moment, I see the exhaustion she's hiding. Then it's gone.

"I understand your people give gifts on this day," she says. "My gifts to you are the robots in your blood and the suit that will protect you. The robot and the suit will aid you during your battle with the demons. The nanites are active now. The suit, however, can only be worn aboard my ship."

I stand there beside her, red sand between my toes, two moons overhead, realizing that Christmas has just changed forever.

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