Yami allowed his awareness to shift, his presence detaching from the chaotic mindscape and returning to his spirit form. The ethereal mist that clung to the mindscape dissipated as his crimson eyes opened to the waking world. The sight that greeted him hit him like a cold wave—Morro, crumpled on the forest floor, his sage-and-emerald-green eyes glazed over as they stared blankly into the middle distance.

Jirii was crouched beside him, his sapphire-blue gaze flickering with worry as he reached toward Morro's shoulder, his hand hovering uncertainly as though unsure whether to touch him. "Morro," Jirii called softly, his voice laced with concern. "Hey, can you hear me? What's going on?" His expression darkened as the lack of response tightened his chest.

Silbón, leaning tensely against a nearby tree, crossed his arms, his translucent form flickering faintly as his brows furrowed. "He's not answering," Silbón muttered, his tone quieter than usual but threaded with unease. "I don't think he's... here. Not really."

Jirii glanced up sharply, his gaze narrowing. "What do you mean, 'not here?'" he demanded, though his voice carried the undertone of a question he didn't want answered. "He's right here—he's just not—" He broke off, unable to finish his sentence as he looked back at Morro, his expression tightening further.

Yami moved closer, his spirit form hovering just above Morro, the faint glow of his presence casting a soft light over the scene. His eyes flickered with pain as he took in Morro's condition, the unresponsiveness, the detachment that seemed to have swallowed him whole.

"He's dissociating," Yami said softly, his voice steady but laced with sorrow. "It's a protective reaction—his mind retreating, shielding itself from something it can't handle."

Jirii's sapphire-blue gaze darted toward Yami, confusion and concern mixing in his expression. "You mean... he's trapped in his own head?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Yami nodded, his presence flickering faintly. "Not trapped. Detached. He's here, but his consciousness is elsewhere—somewhere unreachable for now."

Silbón let out a low, uneasy whistle, his arms tightening across his chest. "That's not good," he muttered. "So what do we do? How do we pull him back?"

Yami hovered closer to Morro, his crimson eyes shimmering as he whispered softly to him, his tone grounding and steady. "Morro," he murmured, his voice low but deliberate. "You're not alone. We're here with you. Wherever you are, whatever you're feeling—it's okay to come back."

The quiet forest around them seemed to press in, heavy with the weight of the moment. Yami, Jirii, and Silbón remained steadfast, their collective presence offering a lifeline to the young Master of Wind as they waited, hoping to reach the part of him that could still hear them.


Yami's crimson eyes flickered sharply as a thought struck him, cutting through the urgency of the moment. He hovered closer to Jirii and Silbón, watching as their sapphire-blue and shadowy gazes shifted briefly toward him. They weren't just reacting to Morro—they were reacting to him. They could see him.

"Hold up," Yami murmured, his voice laced with bewilderment. His ethereal form flickered faintly, steady yet questioning. "Why can they... see me?"

Jirii's sapphire-blue eyes darted toward Yami again, his expression tightening with both unease and confusion. "See you?" he echoed, glancing between Morro and the glowing spirit before him. "Yeah, we can see you. You're... kind of hard to miss."

Silbón, still leaning tensely against the tree, raised a translucent eyebrow as his dark gaze locked onto Yami. "Uh, yeah, Pharaoh. You're glowing. Not exactly subtle."

Yami's crimson eyes narrowed faintly, his expression a mixture of intrigue and puzzlement. "But I'm... a spirit," he said quietly, his tone reflective. "Normally, only Alternates—or those connected to them—can perceive me. Jirii, Silbón... you're not Alternates. So why...?"

Zeph's stormy-green energy flickered faintly within Morro, his presence steady but layered with understanding. "It's Morro," Zeph's voice echoed softly in Yami's awareness. "His connection to the celestial—the sun, the moon, the stars, the aurora—it's extending to them. Through him, they're able to perceive things they normally wouldn't."

Yami's gaze softened slightly, his crimson eyes shimmering as he regarded Morro, whose detached form remained still on the forest floor. "His connection..." Yami murmured. "It's stronger than I realized. Even in this state, it's creating bridges—letting others see what they shouldn't be able to."

Jirii tilted his head, his sapphire-blue gaze narrowing. "What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously, his tone threaded with both curiosity and unease. "What connection?"

Yami glanced at him briefly, his expression softening. "Something within Morro," Yami explained quietly. "A link to the celestial—the forces that connect realms, the things that transcend boundaries. It's why you can see me now, even though you shouldn't be able to."

Silbón whistled lowly, shaking his head as his translucent form flickered. "That's... unsettling," he muttered. "And kind of cool. But mostly unsettling."

Yami didn't respond, his eyes flickering as he turned his focus back to Morro. Though the mystery of the connection deepened, his priority remained unchanged—helping Morro regain his presence and grounding him back to reality.


Morro felt as if his entire world had emptied out, leaving behind only a vast and weightless void. The cold was suffocating and yet distant, pressing against him without truly touching him, as though the edges of reality had pulled away. His mind felt like it was somewhere far away, scattered into fragments that he couldn't quite gather. There was no sense of up or down, no past or future—just a hollow expanse where time seemed to stretch endlessly.

And then, faintly, there was warmth.

It began as a light touch against his forehead—steady, firm, and grounding. The sensation spread gently, anchoring him against the suffocating emptiness. Morro didn't know what it was at first, his consciousness struggling to grasp onto anything tangible, but the warmth grew stronger, spreading like a tether pulling him closer to something real.

Next came the hands on his shoulders. They pressed down lightly, just enough to remind him of his body, of his place in the here and now. The pressure wasn't overbearing; it was comforting, steady, a presence that seemed to say, I'm here. You're not alone.

Even though Morro couldn't process anything beyond those points of contact, the feeling was undeniable: someone was reaching for him, holding him, keeping him from slipping further into the void. Yet, outside of that warmth—those hands—there was nothing. No sound, no other sensation, no flicker of light or shadow. It was as though the rest of his being remained caught somewhere in the in-between, untouchable and unreachable.

Still, the hands never wavered. The warmth remained, unwavering in its reassurance. And though Morro couldn't fully articulate it in that moment, deep within him, something shifted—something small, fragile, but essential. It was as though a single thread was anchoring him back to himself, one that refused to let him be lost entirely.

In the expanse of nothingness that consumed him, that warmth was everything. And though he couldn't speak, couldn't respond, part of him clung to it with quiet desperation.


Yami's crimson gaze lingered on Morro's pale, trembling form for a long moment before he glanced up at Jirii and Silbón, his voice low but weighted with concern. "How did he get like this?" he asked, his tone steady despite the flicker of unease that threaded through his words.

Jirii hesitated, his sapphire-blue eyes darting between Yami's spirit form and Morro's blank stare. "We were just walking through the forest," Jirii said quietly, his voice uncertain. "Keeping an eye out for monsters, trying to stay alert. He seemed fine, maybe a little tired, but... nothing like this." His brows furrowed deeply as he glanced back at Morro. "Then, out of nowhere, he just... stopped. Crumpled onto the ground like this, staring into the distance."

Silbón shifted against the tree, his translucent form flickering faintly with tension. "Yeah, it was sudden," he muttered, his shadowy gaze narrowing. "We didn't see or hear anything that could've caused it. He just froze, like someone hit a switch. And then... nothing. He hasn't responded to us since."

Yami's crimson eyes narrowed as he knelt closer to Morro, his glowing presence hovering steadily as he studied the teen's blank expression. His hand hovered over Morro's forehead for a moment, his voice soft as he murmured, "Morro... you're stronger than this. I know you are."

Zeph's stormy-green energy rippled faintly within Morro, his voice steady but laced with urgency as he spoke in Yami's awareness. "It's not what they saw—it's what Morro's feeling," Zeph said firmly. "Something inside him—it's overwhelming. He's dissociating again, retreating from the weight of whatever's pressing on him. His emotions, his thoughts... they're scattered, detached."

Yami exhaled sharply, his crimson eyes flickering as he looked back at Jirii and Silbón. "It's his mind," Yami explained, his voice steady but edged with sorrow. "He's overwhelmed. This isn't physical—this is something deeper."

Silbón let out a low whistle, his translucent form tense. "So, what do we do? How do we help him snap out of it?"

Yami placed his glowing hands gently on Morro's shoulders, grounding him with warmth and reassurance. "We don't snap him out of it," he said softly. "We help him feel safe enough to come back on his own."