Chapter 13 · The Child in the Mirror

"You're not supposed to be here," the child whispered.

Her voice hit Mara like a physical blow—a perfect, haunting echo of her dead mother. "And neither is he."

Mara froze. The girl wasn't really a girl. She was a sketch of a person, edges blurring into the gray haze of the memory. She tilted her head, watching Mara with a curiosity that felt predatory.

"Who are you?" Mara's voice shook. She tried to step forward, but the floor felt like wet concrete, dragging at her boots.

Beside her, Dax shifted. He didn't look at the ghost. He looked at Mara, jaw tight, his hand clamping onto her upper arm. The pressure was borderline bruising. It was the only real thing in this hellhole.

"Don't trust it," Dax snapped. "It's a projection. A lure."

"A lure for what?" Mara wrenched her arm away. "She knows about the loops. She knows about my mother!"

"She knows what the memory wants you to hear." Dax stepped in front of her. A wall of muscle and cold intent. "Listen to me. We get the info and we get out. Now."

"Get out of my way, Dax!"

He didn't budge.