The fall didn’t feel like falling at first. It was more like the world slipped—quietly, almost politely—out from under Y/N’s feet. One step forward, a hollow echo beneath her sole, and then nothing. The ground gave way like a secret finally told, and she dropped through a darkness that wasn’t empty, but watching. Weightless. Suspended between breaths. Between decisions. Between worlds. When she landed, it wasn’t with a crash but a soft, disorienting stillness. Grass brushed her fingertips. The air smelled wrong—too sweet, too sharp, like a memory she hadn’t lived yet. Above her, the sky shimmered in a way skies shouldn’t, painted in hues that shifted when she blinked. Cradle. She didn’t know the name yet, but it knew her. And it welcomed her with eyes.