Chapter 7 · What is that? What did you do?

She looked at the glass floor. Her reflection stared back. But it wasn't her. Not the Saintess.

The reflection was smiling. A sharp, hungry smile. Eyes black, veins dark. Hands dripping with shadow. It was her, but wrong. Like something inside her had been waiting.

She recoiled. "What is that? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," I said. "That's you. The part you bury under prayers and holy light. The part that watched me bleed and felt nothing. The part that liked it when they called you pure."

"No!" She slammed her palm on the glass, trying to break the image. It didn't break. The other Selena tilted her head, mocking her. "That's not me! That's your trick!"

"Is it?" I crouched again, right beside her, shoulder to shoulder. Close enough our arms brushed. She went rigid. "You think you're clean, Selena? You sacrificed the boy who loved you and slept fine after. That's not light. That's hunger. Same as mine. You just dress yours up better."

"Shut up," she hissed, but her voice shook.

"Look at her," I murmured, my mouth near her ear. I didn't touch her. Didn't need to.