Ryan's fingers stopped an inch from the glass.
His grandmother's face smiled at him from the other side—older than the photographs, younger than the memory. Her eyes were silver, but not like his. Softer. Kinder. Like she'd been waiting for this moment for decades.
"You're not real," Ryan said.
"I'm as real as you want me to be."
"You faded. I watched you fade."
"The body fades. The consciousness—that's harder to kill."
Nelson grabbed Ryan's shoulder. "Don't. It could be the traveler wearing her face."
Ryan looked at the mirror. At Katherine's gentle smile. At the way her silver eyes reflected his own exhaustion.
"If it's the traveler, why hasn't it attacked?"
"Because I'm not the traveler. I'm the first door. The original. The woman who started all of this."
Katherine pressed he
