Cambria stared at the figure in the doorway, every instinct in her body screaming to run, to attack, to do something but she was rooted to the floor by the sight of Evelyn's locket hanging from the stranger's hand.
The air in the obsidian chamber was thick with echoes, as though the mirror's destruction had left behind fractures in time. Shadows quivered along the walls, but the figure remained perfectly still. Not a tremble. Not a breath.
"Who are you?" Cambria asked, her voice hoarse.
The figure tilted its head slightly. "The better question is: who are you now?"
Her jaw tightened. "Answer me."
The stranger stepped forward, black boots striking the stone floor with a rhythmic finality. As they drew closer, the hood slipped back to reveal a woman's face smooth, pale, and familiar.
Too familiar.
It was Evelyn. Or someone wearing her face.
Cambria's heart slammed into her ribs.
"No," she whispered. "You died. I saw the blood. I saw you fall."
