The floor did not hold him. And yet he stood.
Not balancing. Not struggling. But standing, as if the absence beneath his feet meant nothing, as if the world itself had adjusted to make space for him.
My breath slowed without permission. Because everything else in the room felt unstable. But he felt certain.
“Mabel.” The voice reached me softly. Kessler’s hand tightened around mine. “Do not move.” His voice cut through. But I was already leaning forward.
He is not standing on anything, Kessler continued. “He is standing through something.” The words did not make sense. But I felt them. Like something beneath everything had shifted and I was the only one who could feel it.
What are you? I asked. The thing wearing my father’s face smiled faintly. “I am what you have been waiting for,” it
