The golden chamber dissolves before Ashton can fully process the voice. The floor melts into shimmering ripples that swallow his ankles, then his knees, then his entire body. Light folds inward like someone peeling reality off its frame.
"What the fuck-?!" Ashton stumbles, reaching for stability that isn't there.
The world snaps; the light vanishes.
Ashton closes his eyes, feeling a headache in coming as he squeezes his eyes and opens them for them to land in a heavy, warm atmosphere that smells like old wood, citrus peel, and smoke.
A bar appears before him. It's beautiful, designed to the finest detail between it's overhead lamps cast soft golden light that pools across polished counters and wooden tables spaced across the room and it's empty decorated glasses sit like props. The bar stools gleam where elbows should've worn them dull. Bottles line the back wall in neat, immaculate rows and oddly too neat for any real bar.
