For one night, I let the pull go quiet beneath the weight of the woman in my arms.
I slept.
I dreamed of doors.
In the dream, I stood in front of the iron door from the basement. Twelve feet tall. Bronze and iron. Every symbol on my Key present somewhere on its surface, all of them pointing at me.
The door was open.
Just a crack. Just enough for light to spill through. Pale amber light that reminded me of the tanks and the people inside them, frozen and aware and waiting for something that would never come.
Something moved on the other side.
A shape. A presence. Something that had been calling my name for eighteen years without ever receiving an answer.
"Satori."
The voice was familiar.
Wrong, but familiar.
Like hearing your own voice played back through a broken speaker. The words were right, but the music was off. The cadence twisted into something that didn't quite fit a human tongue.
"You came back."
I didn't answer.
