Ryan stared at the door at the base of the silver tree.
It was ancient—older than the mirrors, older than the echoes, older than anything he'd ever encountered. Its surface was made of light and shadow, swirling together like water and oil. It pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, with Mira's heartbeat, with the rhythm of the entire universe.
Mira reached for the handle.
Ryan grabbed her hand. "Wait."
She turned to him, her silver eyes calm. "What is it, Dada?"
"I need to know what's on the other side."
Mira looked at the door. "The beginning. The place where the first being came from. The place where all of this started."
"And if we open it?"
"Then the first being can go home. And the darkness can finally rest."
Ryan looked at the tree. At the silver branches, the shadow leaves. A
