Chapter Text
Everyone got yanked through the portal.
There was no dramatic buildup, no time for Jax to flip Caine off or even brace himself—just a violent tug and a tunnel of static swallowing him whole. The world stretched, tore, and snapped back together again.
Everything felt fake.
Not in the usual Digital Circus way, either. This wasn’t bright and plasticky or exaggerated and loud. This was wrong in a quieter sense, like a stage set left behind after everyone went home.
Jax hit the floor hard and immediately rolled to his feet. The ground beneath him felt… unpleasant. Not solid, not liquid. Damp, maybe. Soft in a way that made his skin crawl.
“Ugh. Great,” he muttered. “I love mysterious mystery floors.”
He looked around—and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Hallways stretched in every direction, long and narrow, vanishing into darkness. They curved gently, just enough to hide whatever waited around the corners. The walls were padded with something that looked like fabric, tufted and uneven, almost quilted. Buttons were sewn into them at odd intervals, mismatched and slightly crooked.
They reminded him, uncomfortably, of Ragatha’s eye.
The entire place felt themed around her. Soft shapes. Muted colors. A forced sense of “comfort” that missed the mark so badly it looped back around to unsettling.
That, and the smell.
Dust. Old perfume. Something sour beneath it all.
Jax wrinkled his nose. “Wow. This place smells like emotional repression.”
There was no visible light source, yet the hallways were dimly illuminated anyway, like the glow was leaking out of the walls themselves. Beneath his feet, something shifted faintly when he moved—fabric dragging over fabric.
And worst of all—
He was alone.
POP.
Caine appeared in a burst of color and noise that made Jax physically flinch. Against the muted darkness of the hallways, Caine looked blindingly bright, like a neon sticker slapped onto a horror movie.
“Welcome, my digital friends!” Caine boomed, arms thrown wide.
Jax squinted at him. “The hell do you want, Caine?”
Caine beamed. “Why, I’m so glad you asked! In this adventure, there’s a key hidden somewhere in this cozy little closet!” He gestured grandly to the endless hallways. “Find it, and you’re free to go! But be careful—make too much noise…”
His smile stretched wider.
“…and you might go kaboom!”
“Wow,” Jax deadpanned. “Threatening. Original. Ten outta ten.”
But Caine was already gone, popping out of existence like a bad joke.
The silence rushed back in.
Jax sighed and started walking.
The further he went, the more wrong the place felt. The hallways seemed to subtly shift when he wasn’t looking—corners growing sharper, walls leaning just a little too close. After a turn, he spotted something standing ahead.
A mannequin.
It stood in the middle of the hallway, stiff and pale, posed awkwardly with its arms half-raised.
“…Classic,” Jax muttered.
He approached it cautiously and tapped it with one finger.
Nothing happened.
He waited a second.
Still nothing.
“Weird.”
He turned away. “Why even add mannequins if they’re not gonna mo—”
A chill crawled up his spine.
Someone was behind him.
“Hello?” Jax called, forcing his usual smug tone back into place. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’re gonna have to—”
He turned around.
The mannequin was right there.
Its hands were thrown up, frozen mid-motion, fingers splayed like it had been caught doing something it shouldn’t. Its face—blank and smooth—somehow still managed to look terrified.
Jax stared.
“…Nope. Don’t like that.”
He poked it again.
The mannequin’s legs began to move—running in place, feet scraping soundlessly against the floor. Its upper body strained forward, as if desperately trying to flee something Jax couldn’t see.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “That’s… yeah. That’s awful.”
The uneasy feeling in his gut twisted tighter.
He forced himself to keep moving.
Time stopped making sense. He walked. Then jogged. Then ran. The hallways blurred together, every turn leading to another identical stretch of fabric walls.
Footsteps echoed faintly behind him.
Jax slowed, muttering under his breath. With no one else around, he let the grin drop from his face.
“Pomni?”
Nothing.
He tried again, louder—but no sound came out. His mouth moved. His throat strained.
Silence.
“Fantastic,” he whispered. “Love that.”
The walls shifted again.
Every hallway looked the same now. The same crooked button. The same faintly tilted lamp embedded in the wall. The same cloying smell of old perfume.
No matter where he ran, he ended up back there.
His breathing grew uneven.
“Okay,” he muttered, pressing his palm to the wall. “You’re fine. You’re totally fine.”
The texture beneath his hand felt wrong—like foam dusted with grit.
Then he turned a corner.
A mirror stood in the middle of the hallway.
It wasn’t attached to anything. Just standing there, tall and elegant, its silver frame twisted like melted metal. Jax’s reflection stared back at him—half a second slower than it should have.
He frowned.
Then the reflection smiled.
Too wide. Too slow. Not his smile.
Jax’s stomach dropped. His head spun, a sudden wave of nausea crashing over him.
The reflection blinked out of sync.
Jax took a step back.
It didn’t.
He stared for a long moment—then bolted.
He ran until his lungs burned, until his thoughts dissolved into panic—until he skidded to a stop in front of another mirror.
This one frowned.
The expression sagged, melting downward, the glass warping as if it couldn’t hold the shape anymore.
Drip.
Drip.
The reflection liquefied, pouring out of the mirror like acid. Where it hit the floor, the fabric dissolved, burning holes straight through the world.
Jax spun around—and found himself facing the first mirror again.
Same grin. Same twisted frame.
“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The face in the glass shifted, confusion rippling across it.
“Yeah,” Jax snapped. “I don’t know either.”
He kicked the mirror hard.
It shattered.
Breathing heavily, Jax straightened.
“Alright,” he muttered. “Enough.”
Destruction was familiar. Chaos was easy.
As he turned, a figure stood at the far end of the hallway.
Not anyone from the circus.
Someone from before.
The mirror’s frame reformed behind him, drifting closer. Jax raised his fists, forcing bravado into his stance.
“Don’t wanna fight me,” he said. “Trust me.”
He backed up.
The hallway sloped sharply.
Bump.
A wall.
“Oh. No.”
Click.
Bang.
There was a hole—right through the center of the figure’s forehead.