Dr. Tsuchinoko sat on the carved wooden bench outside their small swamp office, eyes closed, breath slow. For weeks they had chased one goal: slipping into a trance deep enough to walk through dreams and heal the creatures who came to them in pain. But every attempt stalled at the same soft wall behind their eyelids. They opened their eyes and sighed. The shallow meditation wasn't enough. Their mentor had hinted that the body must be coaxed, not commanded. Maybe the secret wasn't inside them at all. Maybe it grew in the soil. Dr. Tsuchinoko walked into the herb garden tucked beside the office. Lavender swayed near the path. They snipped sprigs of valerian, mugwort, and chamomile, cradling them in their sleeve. Each plant carried a quiet weight, like a promise waiting to be tested. Back inside, they crushed the herbs and steeped them in warm water beside their usual pot of acorn tea. The bitter scent filled the room. They hung a feathered dreamcatcher above the cushion and set a shimmering talisman on the floor to hold any wild aura that might leak out. They drank the brew slowly, then returned to the bench under the dim swamp sky. Their limbs grew heavy. Their thoughts thinned. The soft wall behind their eyes wavered, then split open like wet paper. Dr. Tsuchinoko fell forward into a humming dark. They had crossed the threshold at last — but the dark was not empty. Something on the other side had already noticed them, and it was moving closer.