Zunoder found the camera route in a cracked mirror above a maintenance sink.
The room smelled like rust, floor cleaner, and old fear. Someone had dragged a finger through the grime on the tile and written a warning about red lights. The letters had dried crooked. Good advice, left by a hand that had already learned how late good advice could arrive.
The mirror still showed Ty's face.
Behind that face, in the space where the arena hallway should have been, Earth showed itself in broken strips. A school basement. Water on tile. Cheap phones held too high by trembling hands. Jade on a milk crate with gauze over one eye. Waddell over the freezer record, pencil in one hand and pistol close enough for muscle memory. Kieran by the service door, gold light and black thread knotted around the frame. Tyree crouched near the children. Rima watched the ceiling like she expected it to answer with teeth.
The reflection wore Ty's eyes more gently than Zunoder had allowed.
