He couldn't remember when he closed his eyes or went to sleep, but he knew he hadn't returned home. It was dim and familiar, though he hadn't been in this room since he was a young child.
It was his father's office, with large, uncomfortable seats in front of a fire, his desk on the left, and a giant couch on the right.
With a drink in his hand, his father sat in one of the chairs. If Intervar had seen him drinking, his mother would have killed him; she protested all forms of alcohol, especially when their child was present.
He cautiously walked over to the other chair and sat down. Looking out the window, he noticed that it was completely black outside, not because it was night, but because there was nothing there. Like they were in some other-worldly life where nothing exists.
"Intervar, you're here." His father swung his drink towards him, his tone was light and proud, like this was a normal occurrence.
