Covering each of Darkholm’s eyes were tiny black goggles, a cord running from them to his hub in the corner.

His stomach continued to rise and fall with each breath, his mind buried deep, scouring the wire.

Sprite knew he could only stay in the wire for so long, so she sat down in a chair and waited, making herself comfortable.

“Did you need something, Sprite?”

It seemed like only a moment later when Darkholm’s voice startled her awake. She had dozed off.

“I’m sorry, Darkholm,” she said, opening her eyes and sitting up. “I wanted to check on you.”