Chapter 31 · The First Rewrite

The black-glass door opened without moving.

One moment it was a sealed wall beneath Saint Veyre Theatre, its surface trembling with the reflection of something enormous on the other side. The next, the reflection stepped forward and the world folded around it.

Maeve hit cold stone on her knees.

The impact jarred her injured shoulder. Pain flashed white behind her eyes, but she kept one hand clamped over the cut along her ribs and the other wrapped around Eli’s wrist. He had fallen beside her, pale as candle wax, blood leaking steadily through his shirt. Each breath scraped out of him with a faint metallic echo.

Behind them, the black glass stood smooth and unbroken.

No door. No hinges. No seam.

Only their reflections staring back.

Maeve’s reflection was wrong. It wore the same torn emergency jacket, the same blood-slick fingers, but its head tilted a fraction too far to the left. Its mouth moved before Maeve did.

“Do not let him speak the line.”

Maeve’s pulse kicked.

Eli’s reflection turned toward her.