Finn lay on the ground, vision a blur. His body was limp. His breath shallow. And the girls… were still holding onto him for some ungodly reason.
He wasn't even sure if he was awake anymore.
Everything felt foggy. Distant. Like that moment before sleep when your brain just gives up and your soul goes offline.
This was it. Finn was done. Burnt out.
Emotionally overdrafted. He had entered the void—and frankly, he didn't hate it.
Finally, peace. No chaos. No screaming. No divine meltdowns. Just… darkness.
…until he remembered what happened the last time he blacked out around these women.
His eyelids twitched.
'Wait,' he muttered weakly inside his brain, 'am I… safe?'
Probably. Probably. Right? What's the worst they'd do—draw something on his face?
Then it hit him.
Majestria.
She once made him praise her in his sleep. Out loud. Like a divine chant. He giggled nervously at the memory of her admitting to such a thing to Mimas.
Thanks granny!
Then his smile faded.
