S Lsd 01 05 01 - New — Content Private Acad Bath...

A hallway. Not the Academy. His childhood home. Age five. Carpet the color of dried blood. At the end of the hall, a door that should not exist—narrow, painted with peeling yellow stars. Behind it, something breathing in a rhythm that matched his own heart.

Arden sat in the antechamber, stripped to linen shorts. His skin was cold. On his left wrist, a thin scar from a dream-fall last Tuesday—he'd tried to fly in Level 04 (Olfactory Override) and landed on a memory of broken glass. The scar was real. That was the rule here: What you feel in the dream, you keep in the skin. S Lsd 01 05 01 - NEW CONTENT Private Acad Bath...

He stood. Walked through the archway.

The liquid was not cold or hot. It was familiar . It slipped into his pores, his ears, the corners of his lips. His vision doubled, then tripled, then collapsed into a single image: A hallway

"Candidate 01-05-01," a voice said. Not a person. The room itself. The walls exhaled the words through hidden brass grilles. "Your bath is ready." Age five