“You’re an incubus,” she says without turning. “You want something.”

Jaskier kneels beside her in the dream and says, “You don’t need to open it. You are the door.”

Jaskier, meanwhile, feels something strange. He fed — not on her fear or lust, but on the release of her trapped desire. And for once, he isn’t hungry after. He’s full.

The Hunger of a Tune

That surprises her. She lets him try. Jaskier doesn’t break the lock — he sings to it. A melody made of patience, not force. The door doesn’t open. But it hums back.