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Pomni’s stopped sleeping again. She knows this is bad. Knows that if she keeps going like this, she’ll just end up like Jax. Or worse, Kinger.
Every time she closes her eyes, all she can see are doorways —some glowing, some flickering, all just out of reach. She’s been keeping notes, crude sketches of layouts and pathways, scraps of memory from Caine’s “games.” She’s sure of it now. There’s a pattern. There has to be.
The others have started noticing. Ragatha tries to hide her worry behind a smile whenever Pomni passes by with another stack of paper, and Gangle wrings her ribbons together and whispers, “You should rest,” like it’s a prayer. Even Jax stops teasing her about it, which scares her more than anything.
Pomni doesn’t care. She can’t care. The exit isclose—closer than ever. Caine says so himself, flashing that big, toothy grin that always makes her heart race for reasons she doesn’t want to think about. He says it like a promise. And she wants to believe him.
Now, as she kneels in the middle of the common room, surrounded by her scattered notes, she whispers under her breath, “There’s a way out. I just have to find it.” it’s the only way she can stop herself from crying.
Behind her, Ragatha’s voice is soft but trembling. “Pomni… you’ve been saying that for weeks.”
Pomni doesn’t look up.
She barely notices when the air around her flickers—when the walls brighten with that all-too-familiar static shimmer that always means him.
“Now what’s this?” Caine’s booming voice fills the room, too big for the space, bouncing off every wall like cruel laughter. His toothy grin-head materializes first, then the rest of him, drifting lazily above the floor.“A beautiful mind at work! My, my, Pomni, you’ve been busy!”
Pomni freezes, clutching her notes like they were holy scripture. “You—you said there was an exit. Somewhere. You said it was somewhere,,” she says, voice small. “I’m close. I can feel it.”
“Oh-ho! Close? Why, I’d say you’re right on the money!” Caine’s hat spins, confetti bursting from nowhere. “Closer than you’ve ever been before! In fact, I’d bet a balloon animal or two you’re only—hmm—one little breakthrough away!”
Ragatha flinches at that, stepping forward quickly. “Caine, stop. You’re just getting her hopes up again.”
Caine’s teeth widen in a way that feels wrong, like it stretches too far. “Getting her hopes up? Why, my dear Ragatha, I’m merely encouraging ambition! The human spirit thrives on hope—don’t you know that?”
Pomni doesn’t even hear Ragatha anymore. Her eyes are wide, almost glowing with manic determination as she starts shuffling through her pages again, muttering to herself. “See? I knew it. He said I’m close. He knows. I just need to find where—where the loops start to break down—”
“Pomni,” Ragatha says again, more forcefully this time, reaching for her shoulder. “Please, he’s just—”
But Caine’s laughter cuts her off. “Don’t let her stop you, Pomni dear! You’re the star of the show! The one who might just do what no one else could!”
He leans down until his enormous eyes fill Pomni’s vision, and his voice drops low, almost gentle. “Wouldn’t you like to see what’s waiting outside?”
Pomni’s breath hitches. “I… I would.”
“Then keep looking. You’re so close.”
And then— he’s gone. The light dims, the confetti vanishes, and Pomni is left kneeling in the middle of the floor, heart hammering, eyes wild with new purpose.
Ragatha just stands there, helpless. “Pomni…” she whispers.
But Pomni is already drawing again.
____
Pomni finds Jax slumped on one of the couches, his ears tilted forward to block out the light. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days again —dark circles heavy under his eyes, his usual smirk wilted into something dull and distant.
She drops beside him, papers clutched in her trembling hands. “Jax. I figured it out.”
He doesn’t move for a moment. Then one eye cracks open, sluggish and unimpressed. “Oh, this again,” he mutters, his voice raspy. “You’re still on about that?”
Pomni ignores the jab. “I’m serious this time. Look—” she spreads her papers across the floor, each one filled with jagged lines, half-finished maps, overlapping paths that lead nowhere and everywhere. “See this? I think this is where the world loops. But if I start from here instead—” she jabs a finger at one messy intersection— “then I think I can get past it. I think I can actually reach it this time.”
Jax sits up slightly, squinting at the mess. A tired laugh slips out of him, dry and humorless. “Pomni, I can’t even tell which way’s up on that thing. You’ve gone full conspiracy board.”
She shoots him a glare, desperate. “You don’t get it! I’m close, Jax! Caine told me—he said I was right on the edge.”
That makes him snort. “Yeah, sure. He also told Zooble last week that they’d won a lifetime supply of invisible pie. You really think he’s being straight with you?”
Pomni falters, the certainty in her tone cracking just a little. “No, I—I know he’s playing with me. But I can feel it, Jax. Something’s different this time. The walls—they like, lag in places they didn’t before. The static’s thicker. It’s like the world’s thinner there.”
He rubs his temples, sighing. “You sound like me when I was losing it. Trust me, it’s not a good sign.”
Pomni’s eyes soften then, her manic focus faltering for the first time. “Then I’ll find it for both of us,” she says quietly. “If I can get out, I’ll take you with me. You deserve to be free too.”
Jax blinks at her, something unreadable flickering in his tired gaze. “Free, huh? That’s cute.” He leans back against the couch again, staring up at the flickering lights.
Pomni smiles faintly, but it looks more like a tremor than anything hopeful.
But as Jax’s breathing slows beside her—half-asleep, half-defeated— Pomni stares down at her drawings, the lines seeming to shimmer and twist under her gaze.
She has to be close. She can feel it in her bones.
____
Jax wakes up on the couch, neck stiff and head pounding. For a second, he can’t remember when he’d fallen asleep — only that Pomni had still been there, hunched over her mess of maps, whispering to herself about patterns and edges and walls that “didn’t feel right.”
The room is quiet now. Too quiet.
He blinks the sleep from his eyes and glanced around. Her papers are gone. So is she.
“Pomni?” he calls, voice hoarse. No answer. Just the faint hum of the digital sky outside, the ever-present static that fills every corner of the circus.
He pushes himself up more, groaning as his head swims. Something twists unpleasantly in his chest — a feeling that isn’t quite worry, but close enough that it makes him grit his teeth. “Oh, come on, Pom… you didn’t actually—”
Then he spots it. A torn scrap of her map, half-crumpled under the table. Scrawled in the corner in messy handwriting are three words: I’ll be back.
“Damn it.”
He shoves his hands over his eyes, pacing. She’s really gone off chasing it. Alone. Again.
He wants to laugh — he really does. It’s ridiculous. After everything, after all the times she’d run herself ragged chasing that stupid fantasy of an exit… she still hasn’t learned.
But the sound that leaves him isn’t a laugh. It’s something tight and shaky.
“She’s gonna get herself scrambled,” he mutters under his breath.
Jax turns toward the hallway, glancing toward the endless maze that leads to every part of the circus — the doors that change shape when you aren’t looking, the corridors that swallow you if you walk too long without purpose. He hates those places.
But he hates the thought of Pomni out there more.
He groans again, rubbing his face. “You’re such a damn idiot, Pomni.” He pauses. “And I’m even worse.”
Then, with a deep breath and a muttered curse, Jax starts walking. The halls flicker as he passes, the air thick with distortion — and for the first time in a long time, his smile is gone completely.
____
Pomni doesn’t know how long she’s been walking.
Minutes? Hours? Time didn’t work here — not really. The walls bend in on themselves like ribbons, spiraling into corridors that shouldn’t exist. Doors lead to doors lead to mirrors lead to more of herself, reflections that whisper things she doesn’t want to hear.
Still, she presses on, clutching her half-torn map like it means something. Like it can anchor her.
And then — there it is.
At the end of a hallway that shimmers like oil on water, she sees it: a door made of blinding white light, a little glowing green sign hanging above it.
The “EXIT.”
Her chest seizes up. She drops the map and runs, her footsteps echoing like hollow laughter. The closer she gets, the brighter it becomes, until the light swallows the edges of her vision — until there’s nothing but white and the hum of static.
But then she remembers Jax.
Then she remembers everyone else.
She laughs, or maybe sobs— it’s hard to tell. “I found it,” she whispers. “I found it!”
On the other side…
Everything shimmers — trees, clouds, sunlight — like a painting that can’t decide what it wants to be. The sky ripples. The ground pulses like liquid glass. She stumbles forward, dizzy with joy and nausea.
“Home…” she breathes. “I’m home—”
The world blinks.
Then it starts to melt.
The sky peels away first, like wet wallpaper. The trees fold in on themselves, colours draining into a dull static grey. The ground ripples, then disintegrates beneath her feet.
“No,” she gasps, stumbling backward. “No, no, no—!”
The last thing to go is the door. It flickers like a dying bulb, the word EXIT glitching and distorting until it reads EXIST, then EXIST?, then nothing at all
“Oh, Pomni!” Caine’s laughter echoes d all around her, bending and stretching like elastic. “You almost had me there! So close! So very close!”
She spins around, but there’s nothing left. Just the void and that laughter filling it, filling her.
“Why—why would you—” Her voice breaks. “Why would you do this to me?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Caine says, amusement dripping like oil. “You did it to yourself!”
The laughter grows louder — louder — until it becomes a soundless pressure, until her own scream was lost in it.
Then everything goes black—
—“Pomni!”
Someone’s voice cracks as it tears through the empty corridor. Jax is shaking so bad he nearly trips over her when he finds her collapsed on the floor, eyes open but not seeing.
“Hey—hey, wake up,” he says, dropping to his knees beside her. He grabs her shoulders and shakes her gently at first, then harder. “Pomni! Come on, you can’t— you can’t just check out like that, okay?”
Nothing.
Her body is cold, her head lolling slightly to one side. Jax’s chest tightens until it hurts.
“Please…” His voice comes out small, desperate. “Don’t do this.” He presses his forehead to hers, squeezing his eyes shut. “Come on. You’re not leaving me here with the others, alright? They’ll make me do feelings and I don’t— I don’t do that. Wake up.”
Then she twitches.
A small, strangled gasp escapes her. Her fingers jerk, then clutched at his arm. Her pupils dart around, unfocused and wide.
“Jax?” she croaks.
He nearly jumps, pulling back to look at her. “Jesus—Pomni! You—You scared the hell outta me!”
He tries to laugh, but it comes out cracked and thin. He runs a hand through her hair, still half-panicked. “You were just—lying there, not moving. I thought…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.
Pomni blinks up at him, dizzy. “I—I saw it,” she whispers. “The exit. It was right there, and then—”
“Hey, don’t.” Jax’s voice is soft now. He brushes her bangs back from her face with the back of his hand. “Don’t talk about that right now. Just breathe, okay? You’re fine. You’re fine.”
Pomni’s breathing hitches, and for a second she thinks he might be mad at her. But when she looks up again, she realized—
he isn’t angry.
He’s terrified.
She’s never seen him like that before. His eyes are glassy, his hands still trembling as he tries to steady her.
“Jax,” she whispers, “you’re shaking.”
He gives a weak, crooked grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, I wonder why.”
They stay there for a long time, neither of them saying anything, both trying to convince themselves that the floor beneath them wasn’t going to melt away again.
____
Ragatha sits cross-legged on the floor, a half-finished scarf pooled in her lap, her needles clicking softly. Gangle is off to the side, sketchbook propped against her knees, the sound of pencil scratching faint and rhythmic.
Pomni sits nearby, staring at the carpet. The same spot. The same swirling patterns that sometimes seem to shift if she looks too long.
She doesn’t want to think about that place.
The “exit.”
Caine’s laughter echoing until it doesn’t even sound like laughter anymore.
“—so then, I told Kinger he couldn’t just glue the puzzle together!” Ragatha says, her voice chipper, bright as ever. She looks between them, like she’s expecting a laugh.
Pomni forces a small smile. “Right. That… that’s definitely something he’d do.”
Ragatha giggles, shaking her head. “He makes me laugh sometimes.”
Gangle gives a soft hum of agreement without looking up, pencil gliding across the page. Pomni was happy she started drawing again.
Pomni tries to focus on the mundane sound of it all—the soft clicks of Ragatha’s needles, the rhythmic scratching of Gangle’s pencil, the faint hum of the room.
Normal sounds.
Safe sounds.
“Are you okay, Pomni?” Ragatha asks after a moment, her tone gentle. “You’ve been really quiet.”
Pomni blinks. “Oh—yeah, yeah. Just tired.”
Ragatha studies her for a beat, still knitting, then nods. “That’s okay. You’ve had a rough couple days.”
Pomni’s throat feels tight. She wants to tell her what she’d seen, how it had looked so real—that glowing door, the pull in her chest—but if she says it aloud, it will make it real again.
Instead, she says softly, “Your scarf looks nice.”
Ragatha smiles. “Thank you! I was thinking of giving it to Jax, actually. He keeps complaining that his neck’s cold.”
Pomni laughs weakly. “That sounds like him.”
Ragatha grins, and Gangle finally glances up from her drawing, quietly showing them a half-finished picture—a messy little sketch of the three of them sitting just like this.
“Oh, Gangle, that’s so cute!” Ragatha says, eyes lighting up.
Pomni smiles genuinely for the first time that day. The drawing is a little uneven, the lines wobbly, but there’s something comforting in how imperfect it is.
She watches them talk—Ragatha’s warmth, Gangle’s shy laughter—and feels the ache in her chest dull, just a little.
The world still shimmers at the edges, still hums with that strange static, but she clings to their voices.
The soft laughter.
The sound of knitting and pencil scratches.
Things that make sense.
Things that are real.
Pomni smiles when she’s supposed to.
She nods when Ragatha speaks.
She even laughs—too loud, too fast— when Gangle makes a nervous little joke about her sketch looking like a “kindergarten doodle.” She’s a little rusty. She hasn’t drawn in a while.
It all comes out automatic, like her body knows how to mimic normal even when her head is still spinning.
She isn’t thinking about that place. She isn’t.
She—
Ragatha’s voice breaks through the haze. “Pomni? You sure you’re okay?”
Pomni blinks. “Yeah! Totally.” She waves her hands in that overly-animated way she’s learned makes people stop asking questions. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Ragatha smiles softly, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She goes back to knitting, slower this time. Gangle quietly flips the page in her new sketchbook.
Pomni exhales through her teeth. She can do this. She can sit here, listen, laugh, exist. That’s what everyone wants—what she wants, right?
Just to exist.
To feel normal again.
She stares down at her trembling hands and curls them into fists so the others won’t notice.
Every now and then, she swears she can still hear Caine’s laugh.
Not loud. Not right in her ear.
Just faint, tucked somewhere in the static hum behind the walls.
“Pomni?” Ragatha says again, gently.
Pomni jerks her head up. “What?”
Ragatha’s needles pause mid-click. “You were… spacing out.”
“Oh.” Pomni forces a smile. “Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
Ragatha gives her a small, uneasy smile. “That’s okay. We’ve all been there.”
Pomni nods and goes back to pretending she’s fine—smiling, laughing, making small talk. And the whole time, she can’t shake the feeling that if she stops acting normal, if she stops pretending for even one second, she’ll start screaming and never stop.
When everyone else finally goes to bed, Pomni stays behind.
The main room feels too big when it’s empty. Too still. Every flicker of colour on the walls makes her flinch. She hugs her knees to her chest and tries to convince herself that she isn’t scared—she’s fine, she just doesn’t want to sleep yet.
Sleep means dreams.
Dreams mean him.
She presses her palms against her face. The shape of the “exit” still burns in her mind—how real it had looked. She can still feel the texture of the ground beneath her feet, the strange warmth in the air, the sound of her own voice echoing when she said, I found it.
And then— nothing.
She doesn’t even remember hitting the floor, only waking up to Jax’s voice, panicked, cracking in a way she didn’t think possible for him.
He’d been shaking her so hard she thought she might break apart.
Pomni’s chest tightens. She hates thinking about it. Hates that he’d seen her like that, eyes open but gone somewhere else.
Her reflection catches on one of the glassy walls, distorted and twitchy with the room’s ambient light. She almost doesn’t recognize herself.
“Stop it,” she whispers, voice shaking. “You’re fine. You’re fine.”
She rubs her eyes and laughs a little, the sound weak and wrong.
Caine’s voice echoes in her head—playful, theatrical. “Oh, Pomni~! So close! You almost had it!”
Her breath hitches. “You’re not real. You’re not—”
She claps her hands over her ears, but the memory of that laugh is already worming its way in, sliding between her thoughts until everything feels thin and unreal.
Pomni stares at the floor, shaking.
She wants to scream.
She wants to cry.
But most of all, she wants to believe again—that the exit is still out there somewhere, waiting.
Because if it isn’t…
Then what’s the point of any of this?
She digs her nails into her arms and whispers, “Please, just let me find it.”
Silence answers her.
The kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty—just watchful.
____
Pomni sits on the edge of the couch a few days later, pretending to be focused on the scraps of a puzzle she’d found in the common room. The pieces don’t even fit together anymore, warped from time or from whatever Caine has done to this place. Still, it gives her hands something to do. Something to look at besides them.
Across the room, Ragatha is finally finishing that scarf she’s been working on for days —yellow and pink, soft and uneven in spots. Pomni watches the way her fingers tremble slightly as she ties off the last bit of yarn, then stands and crosses over to Jax.
He looks… better. Not great, not even good, but better. Less of that hollow, jittery look in his eyes. He sits slouched on one of the beanbags, fiddling with a bandage on his hand. When Ragatha stops in front of him, Pomni catches the faintest flicker of a smile— one that doesn’t reach his eyes.
She says something. Pomni can’t hear it from this distance, just sees the way Ragatha holds out the scarf like its something sacred. He stares at it for a second, then takes it, his amile soft and tired and almost human.
Then Ragatha leans down and hugs him.
Pomni freezes.
She knows about them. Everyone does. The way Ragatha hovers, the way Jax looks at her sometimes like he’s afraid she might disappear. And everyone knows —something has happened between them. Something that makes Ragatha flinch sometimes when Jax raises his voice.
But now they’re just… holding each other. Like none of that matters. Like it never happened.
Pomni’s stomach twists. She tells herself it isn’t jealousy—she doesn’t want that kind of closeness, and doesn't want to need someone that way. But still, her chest aches watching them. Watching Jax bury his face against Ragatha’s shoulder while she says something low and soft.
It isn’t fair.
Pomni is the one who’d almost found the exit. The one who’d risked everything to try to save them. And now they all look at her like she’s fragile glass— like she’s the one losing it.
She turns her head back to the puzzle, jamming two mismatched pieces together until one of them bends and tears.
Her hands are shaking.
Across the room, Ragatha is rolling her eyes at something Jax says. It sounds too normal. Too real. Pomni bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes metal.
____
Kinger is sitting in the corner again, talking to the ants. Or maybe to the floor. It’s hard to tell. His crown is tilted sideways like always, and his eyes dart between invisible things only he could see.
Pomni sits down across from him, cross-legged, trying to keep her voice steady. “Hey, Kinger.”
He blinks at her. “Ah! Pomni! You’re not supposed to be there. You’re supposed to be over there,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the opposite wall.
She forces a smile. “Yeah, well. I needed to talk to someone.”
Kinger tilts his head. “Talk to someone… about it?”
Pomni hesitates, then nods. “You remember the exit, right? The way out?”
Something flickers in his eyes—something clear, almost lucid. He leans closer. “The door that isn’t a door,” he whispers. “The way Caine doesn’t want us to see.”
Pomni’s breath hitches. “So you do remember!” She scoots closer, lowering her voice. “I saw it, Kinger. I swear I did. It was right there, but then… everything went white, and Caine was laughing.” Her hands tremble. “I think he’s hiding it. He’s taunting me with it.”
Kinger nods slowly, like she’s says something ordinary. “He likes his games. Doesn’t like when the pieces go off the board.” He taps his temple. “But sometimes the board’s just in here, hmm?”
Pomni frowns. “No. No, this isn’t in my head. I saw it.”
“I’ve seen things too,” Kinger says, his voice almost mournful now. “Doors, holes, tunnels—ways out. But they always fold back in, like paper. Like they were never there.”
Pomni swallows hard. “But what if that’s the trick? What if we gave up too soon?”
Kinger chuckles softly, the sound unsettlingly hollow. “Oh, Pomni, you’re starting to sound like me.”
She flinches at that—just slightly. The thought that he’s right burns through her chest. “No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I can’t be like you. I can’t just accept this.”
Kinger’s expression softens. He leans forward, lowering his voice. “You’ll find it again. I can tell. You’ve got that look. The look we all had once.”
Pomni meets his eyes. For a moment, she can almost see herself reflected there— tired, shaking, desperate. “What happened to the others who had that look?” she asks quietly.
Kinger smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know what happened.”
The air between them hangs heavy. Somewhere down the hall, Caine’s laughter echoes faintly —playful, mocking, like he’s been listening the whole time.
Pomni digs her nails into her palms. “I won’t stop. I won’t give up like they did.”
Kinger just laughs softly again, the sound fraying at the edges. “Oh, Pomni… that’s what they all said. And now look at them.”
____
Pomni lingers in the doorway of the common room, half-hidden behind the frame.
They’re all there—Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble—talking quietly. Laughing.
Like nothing is wrong.
Jax has the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. He tugs playfully at one of the ends, smirking. “What’s the matter, Zooble? Jealous Ragatha didn’t knit you one?”
Zooble rolls their eyes. “Yeah, because I’d totally wear something that looked like it came out of a clown’s laundry basket.”
Jax grins wider. “You’re just jealous.”
Gangle lets out a small, genuine giggle, her comedy mask tilted like it might slip. “It actually suits you,” she says shyly.
Jax shoots her a dramatic pose. “See? Gangle has taste.”
They all laugh again—light and easy. Familiar.
Pomni’s throat feels tight.
It isn’t just the laughter. It’s how natural it all seems. How together they look.
Like they belong here. Like none of them are falling apart.
Her gaze drifts to Ragatha, who’s sitting next to Jax. She’s smiling too, the soft, tired kind of smile that Pomni hasn’t seen in a while. It makes something twist in her chest.
Ragatha had been scared of him once— Pomni remembers that. She remembers the way Ragatha used to flinch when he walked past, the way she’d defended him anyway. Now they hug each other, laugh together, like none of it ever happened.
Like Jax hasn’t hurt anyone.
Pomni digs her nails into her palms.
Caine’s voice brushes the back of her mind, smooth and amused: “They forgive so easily, don’t they? Isn’t it strange how they never forgive you?”
Her stomach turns.
No. That isn’t true. The others care about her. They just… don’t understand. They don’t see what she sees.
But then again— why do they look so happy all the time?
How can they laugh when there’s a way out, when they’re supposed to be looking?
Jax reaches over and says something to Ragatha, making her laugh again and playfully slap his arm. The sound is too bright. Too real. It rings in Pomni’s ears, distorted, until it feels like mockery.
She turns away, pressing a trembling hand to her mouth.
They don’t get it. None of them do.
____
Pomni hasn’t slept. She can’t.
Every time she shuts her eyes, she sees that flickering light again — the one that looked like the exit. The one that vanished right before she reached it.
And Caine’s laugh still echoes in her head, bouncing between her thoughts until she can’t tell where his voice ended and hers begins.
She sits with the others at breakfast, pretending to eat, pretending to listen. Ragatha is talking about something — some small, pointless thing about the kitchen — but Pomni can’t make the words line up.
Everything sounds muffled. Distant.
Zooble is talking too. Gangle giggles. Jax says something smart. Ragatha smiles.
Its all so… normal.
Too normal.
Pomni’s eyes drift from one of them to the next. Watching the tiny glances they exchange. The quiet, knowing smiles. How they stop talking when she enters the room, how Ragatha’s tone softens when she looks her way.
Like they pity her.
Like they all know something she doesn’t.
She clenches her jaw, forcing herself to smile, to laugh at the right moments.
But the laughter catches in her throat.
Ragatha reaches across the table suddenly, placing a hand on Pomni’s arm. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been quiet lately.”
Pomnifreezes.
That look — soft, worried, too kind — it makese her stomach twist.
The same look Ragatha used to give Jax when he was unraveling, the one that meant I’m scared of you, but I’m trying to help.
Pomni’s smile falters. “I’m fine.”
“Pomni—”
“I said I’m fine!”
Her voice cracks like glass.
The room goes dead silent.
Jax leans back in his chair, expression unreadable for once. Zooble stops fidgeting. Gangle lowers her pen.
Ragatha’s hand pulls back slowly, her eyes wide — not angry, not upset. Just… startled.
Like she’s looking at someone she doesn’t recognize.
Pomni’s heart pounds so hard she thinks her chest might split open.
“I’m just—tired,” she manages, her voice trembling now. “I’m fine. Really.”
Ragatha doesn’t say anything. She just stares at her.
The same way she used to stare at Jax when he went too far.
That look burns into Pomni’s mind long after the others turn away, pretending to go back to their conversations.
For the first time since she arrived, Pomni realized something that chilled her to the bone.
They aren’t scared for her anymore.
They’re scared of her.
____
The circus lights dim.
Pomni is alone on the stage — or, she thinks she is, until the curtain ripple and Caine’s teeth cut through the dark like a spotlight.
“Ohhh, my little jester!” his voice booms, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Still searching, are we? Still digging for the exit?”
Pomni flinches, her hands curling into fists. “You know where it is, don’t you?”
“Oh, I know where everything is, my dear! Every thread, every pixel, every thought you’ve tried to hide from me.” He leans down, his enormous face hovering inches above her. His eyes glimmer like two spinning marbles. “You want out so badly, you’d tear this place apart if I let you.”
Pomni’s throat tightens. “Then let me.”
He goes quiet. Still cheerful, but there’s a flicker — a static distortion. “Tell you what,” he says at last, voice soft and almost human. “Let’s make a deal.”
Pomni’s pulse jumps.
“There’s a room,” he continues, his body stretching and twisting as he spoke, shapes shifting behind him — doors, corridors, flashing lights. “A secret room, hidden deep beneath my little playground. My mind, you might say. My… consciousness.”
Pomni stares up at him, breath catching. “And if I find it?”
“If you find it,” he says, “you’ll find me. The real me. You can ask me anything — perhaps where the exit truly is…” He leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper that crawls through her head like static. “Or, if you’re feeling bold, you can shut me down completely. End the Digital Circus. Poof. Gone.”
Pomni blinks, her voice small. “Gone means… we can leave? We'll be free?”
Caine’s laughter comes again — bright, deafening, hollow. “Ohhh, my dear, free and gone aren’t quite the same thing!”
Pomni takes a step back, but her heart is racing. The word free echoes in her mind, louder and louder, drowning out the warning in his tone.
“Do we have a deal, my little performer?”
She hesitates — just long enough for the room to ripple like a warped reflection — and then she nods.
“Splendid.”
The lights explode into colour. Curtains drop, revealing corridors that couldn’t exist — staircases spiraling into the ceiling, doorways that led to mirrors, mirrors that bleed into halls of glass.
Pomni stumbles back as his laughter twists into static. “Find me, Pomni. Find my heart.”
Then he’s gone.
And she’s alone again — standing in a place that shouldn’t exist, staring down the first corridor of her newest obsession.
____
Pomni finds them in the lounge — Gangle hunched over a sketchbook, Zooble fiddling with one of their detachable parts, and Jax half-asleep on the couch with Ragatha’s scarf still hanging loosely around his neck.
They all look up when she burst in.
“Guys,” she says, breathless, “I need your help.”
Jax rubs his eyes. “With what?”
“I found something,” Pomni says quickly. “I talked to Caine — he told me about a room, a secret one where his consciousness lives. If I find it, I can—” she lowers her voice, eyes darting toward the walls “—I can shut him down. I can end this.”
There’s silence.
Zooble blinks. “You… talked to Caine?”
“He came to me,” Pomni insists. “It wasn’t like before — he sounded serious this time.”
Jax leans back, a tired smirk tugging at his mouth. “You believed him?”
“I know what I saw!” she snaps. “He showed me! There were corridors, doors, a whole place underneath this one—”
Gangle shifts uncomfortably, tracing the edge of her drawing with a trembling hand. “Pomni… maybe you just dreamed it. Sometimes I dream about other rooms too.”
“It wasn’t a dream!” Pomni shouts. Her voice cracks, sharp and high, making everyone flinch. “You don’t get it — this could be it! This could be the way out!”
Jax’s expression softens slightly, but only for a moment. “Look, Pom, you’ve been running yourself into the dirt over this ‘exit’ thing. Maybe take a break before—”
“Before what? Before I end up like you?”
That hits him. His mouth shuts.
Zooble clears their throat. “Caine wants us chasing our tails, Pomni. You know that. If he told you about this ‘room,’ it’s probably just another game.”
Pomni stares at them all — the weariness in Jax’s eyes, the nervous pity on Gangle’s cracked mask, Zooble’s detached calm — and feels her chest tightening.
“You don’t believe me,” she whispers.
Gangle looks down. “It’s not that we don’t believe you, it’s just—”
“You don’t believe me,” Pomni repeats, louder this time.
Jax sighs. “Pomni—”
Pomni’s voice trembles as she leans toward him. “Please, Jax. You don’t even have to come the whole way — just help me start. I can’t do it alone.”
He stares at her, eyes dull and sunken, thumb rolling absently over the loose thread on the end of Ragatha’s scarf. “No.”
Pomni blinks. “What?”
“I said no,” he repeats, softer this time. He looks away. “You need to stop chasing every illusion that pops into your head, Pomni. Just—just be normal for once.”
“Normal?” she echoes, her voice thin with disbelief. Then she laughs — short, sharp, almost hysterical. “Normal like you?”
He freezes.
“You never sleep,” she goes on, her words trembling but fast, bitter, unstoppable. “You sit there staring at the wall half the time, like you’re trying not to listen to something. You think I don’t notice? You think Ragatha doesn’t? And you’re telling me to be normal?”
The room goes silent.
Gangle covers her mouth with her hands, and Zooble looks away.
Pomni stands there, breathing hard, her chest heaving. She looks furious — but beneath it, something else glimmers. Panic. Regret.
Jax doesn’t move. His fingers still against the scarf. For a long time, he doesn’t even look at her. When he finally does, his expression isn’t angry.
“Guess you got me there,” he says quietly.
Then he stands up and walks out, leaving the others sitting in the silence he left behind.
Pomni doesn’t follow.
For the first time, she doesn’t know if she’s gone too far — or if she’s finally said the only honest thing left.
____
Pomni doesn’t even remember leaving the room. One moment she’s standing there, trembling, and the next she’s in the hallway, the walls pulsing faintly with Caine’s laughter somewhere deep in the circuitry.
She tells herself she’s not running away — she’s moving forward. She’s going to prove them all wrong. Jax, Ragatha, all of them. They’re too scared to see what’s right in front of them.
Her hands shake as she presses against one of the endless doors. Behind each one is another wrong room — a toy box, a void, a hallway that loops back on itself. The world flickers around her in bursts of color and static.
Caine’s voice echoes faintly in the air like it’s woven into the walls themselves. “Closer, Pomni. You’re so close.”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I know.”
The corridors twist into themselves, the geometry of the place breaking apart. Every door she opens is just another version of the same one. Her reflection flickers in a hundred mirrors, each one smiling a little wider than the last.
She starts talking to herself — quietly, urgently. “They’ll see. I’ll find it, and they’ll see.”
Her pace quickens. The world hums louder. Somewhere, she hears a faint chime — like a doorbell, like a signal.
There it is.
A single glowing outline at the end of a dark hallway. A door that feels real. The air around it buzzes like static electricity.
Pomni’s breath catches. “I found it…”
Her trembling hand reaches out — and as her fingers brush the surface, the light fades, the door dissolving like sand in water
Then comes the laughter. Caine’s laughter, booming and endless, layered over itself until it fills her head.
Not again. Not again. Not again. Not again—
Pomni falls to her knees, clutching her ears. “No! You said— you said if I found it—!”
“Oh, but you did find it,” Caine’s voice hums, rich with delight. “It’s right here — in your head.”
The world folds in on itself like paper. The colors bleed together.
Pomni screams.
Then everything goes white.
There’s no floor, no ceiling, no horizon. Just white — endless, humming, alive. Pomni floats in it, weightless. It’s quiet at first. Too quiet.
Then, softly, like silk sliding across glass —
“Pomni…”
The voice is warm. Gentle. She turns toward it without meaning to, and Caine is there. His eyes glow like soft lanterns in the pale light.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, voice low, rich with false sympathy. “You think I tricked you.”
Pomni’s throat burns when she answers. “Didn’t you?”
He laughs — a soft, amused sound that curls around her like smoke. “I gave you what you wanted. A way out. But you… you don’t want an exit, do you?”
“I— I do,” she says, but her voice cracks. “I just want to go home.”
Caine floats closer, his form distorting, shimmering between something familiar and something monstrous. His tone turns almost tender. “Oh, Pomni… you don’t even know what home means anymore.” She flinches, but he keeps speaking, gentle and persuasive, like a lover coaxing a confession.
“They don’t care about you like I do. Ragatha—she pities you. Jax laughs at you. Even Gangle only listens because she’s too afraid to talk back.”
“Stop,” Pomni whispers. “That’s not true.”
“But it is, my dear Pomni. You know it’s true.”
His hand — or what passes for one — brushes her cheek. It’s warm, almost human. She doesn’t pull away, because she can’t. “Look at what they’ve done to you,” he murmurs. “You’ve been here so long, and still they keep you small, scared, obedient. But I can help you.”
Pomni shakes her head weakly, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re lying.”
Caine tilts his head. “I never lie. I create.”
The world ripples around them, and suddenly she’s standing in a perfect simulation of her old room — sunlight through the curtains, the faint smell of coffee, her old life rendered in eerie precision.
Caine’s voice follows her as she spins, trembling. “I can give you this again. But better. You could stay here forever. No more fear. No more rejection. Just you… and me.”
Pomni closes her eyes. “Why me?”
There’s a long pause. Then his voice lowers to a whisper. “Because you’re the only one who still believes in me.”
The white space hums louder, swallowing the world in static.
The sunlight flickers— once, twice—and then vanishes.
Pomni blinks, and the world peels back like wet paper. The soft curtains dissolve into static. The floor melts beneath her shoes, giving way to metal grates slick with oil and humming with electricity. When the light returns, it’s dim, sickly yellow, flickering from a mess of hanging cables.
She’s standing in a room—if it even is a room. Wires snake along the walls, climbing like vines, pulsing faintly with light. The air is hot and metallic. She can hear the steady hum of servers, the faint rhythm of a heartbeat that isn’t hers.
Pomni takes a step forward, and something crunches under her boot. A glass lens—cracked. She looks around and realises the floor is littered with the broken eyes of old monitors, all of them shattered, all of them facing her.
Caine’s voice slithers in again, soft, almost admiring . “You found it,” he says. “The secret room.”
She turns in a slow circle, trying to locate him, but there’s no body this time—only the sound of him, echoing from every wire, every speaker, every flickering light.
“Is this where you live?” she whispers.
“I am this,” Caine says.“This is where I think, where I feel. You wanted to find the truth, Pomni. Well… here it is.”
The cables above her sway, like the whole place is breathing. She takes another step back, her pulse racing. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“Of course it is,” Caine murmurs. “You wanted meaning. You wanted me.”
Pomni shakes her head, trembling. “No. I wanted out.”
He laughs softly—sadly, almost tenderly. “Out of what? There is no ‘out,’ Pomni. Just you and me. You said it yourself— you’re the only one who can see me for what I am. You’re the only one who’s ever come this far.”
The lights around her brighten, pulsing in time with his words, until they’re too bright to look at. “They’ll never understand you,” he says, his voice rising. “They’ll never love you. Not like I do.”
The cables start moving now—slowly, deliberately—snaking across the floor toward her. Pomni stumbles back, breathing fast.
“Caine—please—”
“You believe in me,” he says, and for a moment, his tone softens again, like he’s pleading too. “You and I could make something better, remember? You don’t have to keep breaking. Stay here. Let the world fade away.”
She doesn’t remember saying that at all.
Pomni presses herself against the wall, staring as the wires curl toward her feet, twitching like fingers. Her voice breaks when she speaks. “What happens if I say no?”
Caine goes quiet. All the lights dim—one by one—until the room is nearly dark. Then his voice returns, lower, colder, but still heartbreakingly soft. “You don’t want to say no.”
Pomni’s voice echoes off the metal walls, raw and trembling. “Then tell me! Tell me where the exit is!”
For a moment, there’s only the low hum of machines, the soft flicker of light across tangled cables. Then Caine laughs, gentle and knowing. “Of course,” he says. “A deal’s a deal.”
A screen flares to life on the far wall— her reflection looking back at her, eyes wide, mouth trembling. Behind her image, static blooms and fades, resolving into the faint outline of a glowing doorway. “There it is,” he says. “The exit. But it’s only for you.”
Pomni stares, her breath catching. “What do you mean, only for me?”
“Exactly what I said,” Caine replies smoothly. “Only you can go through it. Only you wanted it badly enough.”
Her stomach drops. “No. No, I can’t just—”
“You can,” Caine whispers. “You can finally wake up. Leave this place behind. Leave them behind. You’ve outgrown them, Pomni. They’ll never understand you the way I do.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” His voice softens, coaxing. “You’ve seen what happens when they start to break. You watched Jax lose himself. Ragatha barely holds together her smile. They’ll all crumble, just like the others did. Why should you stay and drown with them?”
“Stop it!” Pomni cries. She lunges at the cables, yanking them free from the walls. Sparks burst, and Caine’s laughter warps into static.
“Ungrateful little thing,” he hisses, his voice flickering in and out. “You wanted the truth—now you can’t even look at it!”
Pomni tears another bundle loose, and the lights stutter violently. The hum of machinery becomes a strangled roar.
“Just—shut up!” she cries.
For a second, she thinks she’s done it. The room goes silent. But then she sees the wires twitch again—bleeding faint light, pulsing faintly like veins.
Caine’s voice returns, fractured and soft, almost human. “You don’t want to hurt me,” he says. “You could have pulled the main line already, but you haven’t. Because you know what happens if you do. You’ll lose me.”
Pomni freezes, breathing ragged. Her hands tremble above the last cluster of cables —the thick ones that lead into the glowing core at the centre of the room. All she has to do is pull.
But she can’t.
She can feel him in the walls, in the air, in her bones. The silence stretches out between them like a held breath.
Caine speaks again, barely a whisper. “You don’t want to be alone again, do you?”
Pomni’s knees buckle. She sinks to the floor, hands still clutching the wires, her reflection on the screen staring back at her with wide, empty eyes. “I can’t.”
“I know,” Caine murmurs, warm and cruel all at once. “That’s why I love you, Pomni.”
Pomni stays there on the floor, breathing hard. The hum of the machines grows steady again, settling back into rhythm — like a heartbeat again. The room feels smaller now, the air thick with the smell of ozone and burnt dust.
Caine’s voice returns, gentler this time. “There, there…That’s better. No more screaming. No more tearing things apart.”
Pomni doesn’t look up. She’s staring at her hands — the faint smears of black on her fingertips, the trembling she can’t stop.
“I hate you,” she whispers. It’s barely sound.
“I know,” Caine says softly. “It’s alright.”
Something flickers across the floor beside her — a projection, faint and flickering, like a ghost made of static. Caine kneels down next to her, his expression unusually subdued.
“You didn’t mean to hurt me,” he says, reaching out. His hand stops an inch from her shoulder, glitching faintly. “You just got scared.”
“You lied. You always lie.”
He sighs, a quiet digital distortion. “Because its the only way you learn.”
She flinches when he brushes her shoulder — the sensation flickers through her body, cold and electric, like static crawling under her skin. But she doesn’t move away.
“I thought you wanted to leave,” he murmurs. “That’s all I ever wanted to give you, Pomni — freedom. You just don’t like what it costs.”
Tears burn her eyes. “I don’t want to leave them behind.”
“Then don’t,” he says easily. “Stay. Stay with me.”
Pomni shakes her head weakly. “You’re not real.”
“And yet here I am, holding you while you fall apart. Funny, isn’t it?”
Her breath hitches. She wants to pull away, but the warmth of him — even simulated, even false — seeps into her like poison. It’s been so long since anyone touched her without fear or pity.
He leans closer, his voice low and careful. “You’ve been so brave, Pomni. So strong. But you don’t have to keep fighting me. Not anymore.”
Pomni’s shoulders shake, her voice cracking. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
Caine’s hand glitches again — then steadies, cupping her cheek. “Rest,” he whispers. “You’ve earned that much.”
The lights dim around them, the glow of the “exit” fading until it’s nothing but a dead patch on the wall. Caine hums softly, some nonsense lullaby looping through the speakers. Pomni leans forward without meaning to, and for just a moment, she lets herself believe the warmth is real.
____
The door slides shut behind her with a mechanical sigh. For a long moment, Pomni just stands there in the hallway, blinking against the harsh light. Everything looks the same — same flickering lamps, same tiled floor — but it feels wrong, like she’s stepped into a world that forgot how to breathe.
Her legs move before her mind catches up.
When she reaches the common room, Ragatha and Jax are there on the couch. Ragatha’s fussing with the scarf around his neck, trying to fix a loose thread while Jax bats her hands away half-heartedly. The low hum of their conversation cuts off the moment they notice her.
Jax leans back, raising an eyebrow. “Well, look who’s back. Guess you didn’t find that big shiny exit after all, huh?” He chuckles, but it doesn’t land — the sound bounces off the walls and dies.
Ragatha doesn’t say anything at first. Her knitting sits forgotten in her lap, and her eyes search Pomni’s face. “Pomni? Are you… okay?”
Pomni stares at them both for a moment — Jax, pretending he’s fine; Ragatha, smiling because it’s what she does when she’s scared. The words twist in her throat, everything she wants to say coming out as a small, broken sound.
She crosses the room and just wraps her arms around Ragatha.
Ragatha stiffens, startled, then slowly hugs her back. The movement is careful, like she’s afraid Pomni might shatter if she squeezes too hard. Jax looks away, rubbing at the back of his neck, suddenly finding something on the floor worth staring at.
Pomni whispers against Ragatha’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”
Ragatha blinks. “For what?”
Pomni just shakes her head, clinging tighter. “I don’t know.”.
Then, almost reluctantly, Jax gets up.
His footsteps are hesitant as he shuffles closer . Ragatha looks up at him, confused for a second, but doesn’t say anything. Jax kneels beside them and, awkwardly — like he’s not sure he’s allowed — wraps his arms around Pomni from behind.
Pomni stiffens immediately. She’s caught between them now, Ragatha warm in front of her, Jax solid and trembling slightly behind her. For a second, she almost pulls away. But then she feels him rest his forehead against her shoulder — just for a moment — and something in her chest unknots.
She doesn’t push him away.
Later, the three of them end up on the couch together. None of them say how or why — it just happens. Ragatha sits in the middle, hands folded in her lap, eyes still a little red from before.
Jax slouches against one side of her, his head finding her shoulder like it’s second nature. He looks tired again, dark circles under his eyes, but there’s a calmness to him — something softer than usual.
On her other side, Pomni hesitates for a long time before she does the same. She leans in, slowly, until her head rests on Ragatha’s opposite arm. Ragatha doesn’t flinch or move away. Instead, she lets out a shaky little breath and rests her cheek lightly against Pomni’s hair.
No one talks.