The dream came back.
Aria stood in a long hallway made of glass. The floor reflected her face again and again, but every reflection was different. Some versions of her were younger. Some older. Some had blood on their hands.
At the end of the hallway stood a door.
It was always locked.
This time, it was open.
Aria stepped forward.
Inside the room, there were no screens. No machines. Only people. Rows and rows of people standing still, eyes blank, hands at their sides.
Marcus stood among them.
He smiled.
“You taught them to fear control,” he said calmly. “But fear only changes shape.”
Aria tried to move, but the floor turned soft beneath her feet.
“You didn’t kill the idea,” Marcus continued. “You only buried it.”
The people turned toward her at once.
Their mouths opened.
And
