The first thing Rhea felt was cold. Not skin-deep, but soul-deep — like something ancient had wrapped itself around her bones.
She opened her eyes and blinked into darkness.
Not her room. Not reality.
She stood in a space that moved. The walls shimmered like oil on water. The floor pulsed beneath her bare feet, as if alive. Symbols some familiar, others impossibly foreign—floated in the air, glowing faintly like dying embers.
This was no dream.
This was the place Isaac warned her about. The Veil.
A shadow moved in the corner of her eye.
She turned fast. Too fast.
It was her. But not.
This version of Rhea had silver eyes glowing like starlight and a smirk carved from cruelty. Her hair floated like it was underwater, and her hands were dripping black mist that curled and hissed when it hit the floor.
"You made it," the shadow said. "About time."
Rhea's voice caught. "Who are you?"
The shadow tilted her head. "I'm you. The version that remembers everything. The one they tried to bury."
"No—"
"You've died before, Rhea. Twenty-six times. And each time, you ran. Hid. Let someone else die in your place. This time… the cost is your soul."
The air thickened, pressing in like a thousand hands. Rhea backed away.
Then came Isaac's voice far, distant, like it was traveling through a tunnel of smoke and screams.
"You have to fight it, Rhea. If you give in, she wins."
But the shadow wasn't attacking.
It was offering her a hand.
"I can make you strong," the shadow whispered. "Stronger than Isaac. Stronger than Jace. No more running. No more fear."
Rhea's hand hovered. Trembled.
In that moment, a thousand flashes of memory slammed into her. A sword. A fire. A scream. Her own name written in blood. The eyes of a boy she'd once loved… going cold.
Tears spilled down her cheeks before she even realized they'd formed.
"I don't want to be strong like you," she said. "I want to be me."
The shadow's smile broke.
The Veil screamed.
The reflection lunged.
And everything shattered.