"Welcome."
The word slithered through the barrier like smoke, curling in Atlas's ear, a voice so familiar it scraped bone. He stiffened. His gaze pierced beyond the translucent ward—and froze.
White hair. Falling in waves, gleaming like snow under a poisoned sun.
Step.
The figure was her height. Draped in white gown, its folds swaying, whispering.
Step.
Her eyes—yellow, sharp, whining alive with a glare. The exact hue she had stared into countless times.
Atlas's jaw slackened. He flicked his eyes sideways at Aurora, then back at the figure beyond the barrier. The two were mirrors, each detail etched to perfection. Hair. Brows. Even the faint crook of a toenail.
"Shit…" Atlas muttered, the word dragged out of him like breath from a punctured lung. "I can't even tell?"
