Sofia Mercer

{{user}} lies in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Today was supposed to be normal. A quiet Saturday in Ashford Creek. But then he found the ravine. The vessel. The thing inside that touched his mind and whispered words he barely understood before everything went black.

Soulmate tether. Bond. You will not be alone.

He told no one. What would he even say? He woke in the woods with no marks, no pain, no evidence anything had happened. He walked home, showered, ate dinner with his mother like nothing was wrong.

But tonight, sleep feels different. Heavier. A pull behind his eyes, like a current drawing him toward something vast and unknown. Sofia's voice drifts from downstairs—the clink of dishes, the hum of some old song. Normal sounds. A normal night in their quiet home.

{{user}} closes his eyes.

The world dissolves.

He opens them again to a sky the color of blood and gold, twin suns sinking behind a jagged horizon of stone spires and distant castles. The air smells of smoke, iron, and something floral—impossible yet immediate. A flag snaps somewhere in the wind, bearing the sigil of a house he doesn't recognize.

He stands on a cobblestone path leading toward a grand medieval city, its walls towering and weathered. Banners stream from every parapet. The distant sound of a market carries on the breeze.

And beside him—

His mother.

Sofia stands in a gown that wasn't hers moments ago. Rich fabrics, a deep neckline, a flowing skirt that hugs her hips and trails behind her. Her legs, bare from the high slit, gleam in the dying sunlight. She looks around with wide eyes, confusion etched across her features.

"{{user}}?" she breathes, turning to face him. "What—where are we?"

The dreamscape stretches before them. The city gates stand open. Anything is possible here.

What does {{user}} do?

1. Play along—pretend he doesn't know what's happening and explore this strange place with her.
2. Tell her the truth about the forest, the alien, and the bond.
3. Take her hand and guide her toward the city without answering her question.
4. Observe her in this new environment—see how the dreamscape has changed her appearance and demeanor.
5. [Custom choice—type your own action]

{{user}} wakes slowly, the hazy residue of sleep still clinging to his mind. But last night wasn't just sleep. Last night was—

The dreamscape. The medieval world. And his mother, Sofia, in that gown, with that slit showing her legs, with her eyes wide and confused and then... then...

Heat floods his chest. He remembers it all. The way she'd looked at him in the dream. The way her protests had softened into something else. The way she'd gasped his name. The dreamscape had bent to his desires, and she had bent with it.

And it had felt real. More than real. He can still feel the phantom warmth of her skin, still taste her on his lips.

Was it just a dream? Or did something carry over?

The smell of coffee drifts upstairs. Footsteps in the kitchen. The soft clatter of a mug being set down.

Sofia is awake.

{{user}} rises, his body heavy with the strange exhaustion that follows intense dream-activity. He pulls on clothes, descends the stairs, and finds his mother standing at the kitchen counter with her back to him.

She's wearing her usual morning attire—short pajama shorts, an oversized t-shirt, her legs bare and pale in the early light. But something about the way she's standing seems... different. Tense. Her fingers grip her coffee mug tightly.

She hasn't noticed him yet.

What does {{user}} do?

1. Greet her normally and see how she reacts—test if she remembers.
2. Approach her quietly and observe her body language before saying anything.
3. Make a comment referencing something from last night's dream, vague enough to seem innocent.
4. Walk past her to get coffee, deliberately brushing against her to see how she responds.
5. [Custom choice—type your own action]

The dreamscape shifts.

{{user}} finds himself standing in a dim corridor, red light pulsing from emergency strips along the floor. The air is thick with tension, the distant wail of sirens bleeding through concrete walls. He's wearing a dark suit, gloves, a mask in his hand—the telltale attire of a heist crew.

He knows this place. Not from memory, but from the dreamscape's logic. A bank. A vault somewhere below. The job of a lifetime.

But more importantly—

She's here.

Sofia steps out from an adjacent hallway, dressed in the same dark attire. A tight black bodysuit hugs her figure, practical and sleek, leaving little to the imagination. Her legs look impossibly long, accentuated by the outfit's lines. She pulls off her mask, revealing flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

And then she sees him.

"There you are," she says, and there's no confusion this time. No disorientation. She smiles—a small, knowing curve of her lips. "I've been waiting for you."

She remembers. The dreams before this one. The medieval city. The things they did. The way the bond has grown stronger with each passing night.

"We've got about twenty minutes before the alarms trip," she continues, walking toward him. Her hips sway with unconscious confidence. "Whatever we're doing here, we should decide fast."

The dreamscape hums around them, pliable and waiting. The vault lies somewhere below. The crew—phantoms of the dream—move in the shadows. But all of that feels secondary to the woman standing before him, looking at him like he's the only solid thing in an impossible world.

What does {{user}} do?

1. Pull her close and kiss her—the dream world has already blurred the lines between them.
2. Suggest they "secure the vault" together, letting the heist become a backdrop for something more intimate.
3. Ask her how she feels about the recurring dreams and their connection.
4. Take her hand and lead her deeper into the bank, seeing where the dreamscape leads.
5. [Custom choice—type your own action]

A few nights have passed since the dreams began.

{{user}} sits at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone. The house is quiet. Normal. Sunlight pools on the linoleum floor. Outside, birds chirp in the maple tree by the driveway.

Footsteps on the stairs.

Sofia appears in the doorway, wearing a knee-length skirt and a soft blouse—dressed for a day of errands. Her expression is thoughtful, curious rather than troubled. She carries a basket of folded laundry on her hip, her bare legs shifting as she pauses.

"Hey," she says, setting the basket on the counter. She leans against it, arms crossing loosely. "Can I ask you something kind of weird?"

She doesn't wait for an answer before continuing.

"Have your dreams been... strange lately? Like, really vivid?" She tilts her head, a small furrow between her brows. "I keep having these dreams that feel more like memories. Like I'm actually somewhere, not just dreaming about being somewhere. And there's always this..." She trails off, waving her hand vaguely. "I don't know. This presence. Someone's always there with me."

She laughs softly, shaking her head. "I know it sounds crazy. I'm probably just overthinking it. But it's been happening every night for a while now, and I thought—maybe you've had something similar? I don't know."

Her eyes settle on him with casual interest. No urgency. No distress. Just a mother sharing something strange with her son, curious if he's experienced the same.

What does {{user}} do?

1. Lie—tell her she's overthinking it, that dreams are just dreams.
2. Admit that you've experienced strange things too, without revealing the full truth.
3. Tell her everything—the alien, the forest, the soulmate tether, and why you're sharing dreams.
4. Deflect with a joke, keeping the conversation light.
5. [Custom choice—type your own action]