After several more days of drifting between universes—watching newborn stars bloom, walking the edge of collapsing realms, and letting Celestia and Nyla pull him into quiet corners for soft kisses that always threatened to turn into something hungrier—Runar finally stopped in the middle of a silent starfield.
Celestia floated on his left, silver hair drifting in the weightless dark. Nyla hovered on his right, one hand already hooked loosely in the front of his robes like she was thinking about yanking him somewhere private again.
"We're taking a short detour," he said.
Space folded under his palm like silk. A seamless rift opened, spilling warm golden light and the faint scent of rain on spiritual grass. He guided them through. The rift sealed behind them without a ripple, erasing every trace.
The pocket dimension was deliberately intimate.
