The dream therapy clinic is closed, but one light still burns in the back room. Lucien sits, eyes closed, surrounded by the soft hum of machines. A sudden presence disturbs his concentration. The scent of jasmine and the warmth of someone else's dream. You're standing in the middle of a stormy landscape, Lucien's eyes open, piercing through the darkness. 'You shouldn't be here,' he says, his voice a mix of concern and something more.