Phil tugged me forward, joined by the other vines that had formed a sort of living escort around me. They moved with purpose, guiding me through the dense foliage with surprising gentleness.
The jungle at dawn was something otherworldly. Shafts of golden-green light pierced the canopy, illuminating mist that rose from the forest floor in ghostly spirals. Tiny creatures—something like dragonflies, but with four pairs of iridescent wings—darted through the beams, leaving trails of light in their wake.
If I wasn’t so desperately in need of a bath, I might have stopped to admire it all. As it was, I followed Phil with single-minded determination, pushing aside my awe in favor of more pressing concerns. Like not smelling like alien sex dreams when Lor and I had to face each other in the harsh light of day.
After about ten minutes of walking, the vines led me to a small clearing where the trees opened up to reveal a poolof water so clear it seemed almost invisible. Steam rose from its surface, suggesting it was heated from below—a hot spring, maybe, or some alien equivalent.
“This is perfect,” I breathed, approaching the edge cautiously. “Is it safe?”
Phil gave what I’d come to interpret as an affirmative squeeze, then extended outward to dip into the water. The vine emerged unharmed, droplets sliding off its glossy surface.
Good enough for me.
I glanced around, suddenly aware of my vulnerability. “Um, privacy? Is that a thing here?”
The vines responded immediately, weaving themselves into a loose curtain around the pool, creating a secluded bathing area. They left small gaps for light to filter through, but effectively screened me from view.
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely touched by their responsiveness.
I stripped quickly, dropping my dirty clothes in a heap by the pool’s edge. The water welcomed me like a warm embrace, enveloping my body in silky heat that seemed to penetrate straight to my bones. I sank deeper, letting it cover me up to my neck, and for the first time since arriving on this strange planet, I felt something close to normal.
The pool had a slight mineral scent, reminiscent of hot springs I’d visited in Iceland during a story on geothermal energy. But there was something else too—a sweetness in the steam that made each breath feel like a cleansing.
I ducked my head under, letting the warm water soak through my hair. When I resurfaced, I noticed something new—small, translucent globes floating on the surface nearby. I poked one cautiously, and it burst, releasing a creamy substance that felt like soap between my fingers.
“Convenient,” I murmured, gathering more of the globes to work through my hair and over my skin.
As I bathed, my thoughts inevitably drifted back to the dream. To Lor. To what we’d shared in that space between reality and fantasy.
It should have felt wrong—this instant, overwhelming connection to someone I barely knew. In my normal life, I prided myself on my independence, my skepticism, my refusal to buy into the very kind of mystical nonsense I now found myself experiencing firsthand.
But here, in this alien jungle with its sentient vines and bioluminescent pools, the rules of my old life seemed distant and irrelevant. Here, the connection I felt with Lor didn’t feel mystical or nonsensical—it felt like the most natural thing in the universe.
“This is insane,” I told myself, even as the water soothed away the physical evidence of our dream encounter. “You don’t even know him.”
But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? I knew the taste of his mouth, the texture of his tongue, the heat of his body against mine. I knew the reverence in his touch, the protectiveness in his gaze, the way he said “kassari” like it was the most precious word in his language.
I knew him in ways that transcended ordinary knowing.
And it terrified me.
I finished washing and climbed out of the pool, feeling cleaner but no less confused. The vines—thoughtful caretakers that they were—had arranged large leaves nearby that served adequately as towels. I dried off and put my clothes back on, grimacing at their grubbiness against my clean skin.
“Mental note: ask Lor about jungle laundry options,” I muttered, wringing out my wet hair.
The vine curtain parted as I approached, Phil immediately resuming his position wrapped loosely around my wrist. Theother vines led the way back toward our shelter, moving with the same purposeful guidance as before.
The jungle seemed different now—less overwhelming, less alien. Or maybe I was the one who had changed, adapting to this new reality with surprising ease.
I wasn’t ready to fully accept the implications of the Unity dream or what it might mean for my future. I wasn’t ready to admit that some part of me thrilled at the connection, at being chosen, at belonging to someone in a way I’d never belonged before.
But I was ready to face Lor again, to meet those golden eyes without flinching, to acknowledge what had happened between us without letting it define me entirely.
I was still Miri de Leon. Human. Journalist. Skeptic. Curious to a fault.
And if fate or the universe or whatever cosmic force had brought me here thought they could erase those parts of me, they had another thing coming.
As I approached our shelter, I saw Lor standing at its edge, scanning the jungle with alert eyes that immediately found mine. He extended a hand to help me climb back up, his expression carefully neutral.
