Lincoln's POV:
The light didn't burn.
I'd expected heat, fire, pain—anything violently familiar. The light that swallowed us was… soft. Warm. Like walking into sunlight strain through a veil of water.
I was no longer able to tell where my body landed and the radiance started. My limbs were weightless, floating. There was no ground. No sky. No air.
Just light voices.
Small.
Not speaking, but humming.
It sounds like a lullaby.
It was before I could fight it, my heartbeat align to theirs.
Not forced.
Not stolen.
Matched.
Not the world above.
Land extend beneath my feet, like it was being drawn in with light, patches of moss forming first, aglow, then stone, then twisted roots made from shimmering threads.
I felt the presence of others before I could even saw them.
"I'm here,"
