The clearing had vanished.
All that was left was the circle, suspended in nothing and carved in silver light.
Fifty seven versions of me stood inside it.
Each one different. Each one broke in her own way. Some are younger, some older. One with hands covered in blood. One with eyes full of fire. One was kneeling in prayer and whispering words I couldn't recall ever learning.
And me, the fifty-eighth, in the middle.
My shadows trembled and curled inward. The scent of smoke, loss, and something old enough to hurt filled the air.
One of them moved forward. Her eyes were hollowed out, her hair was longer, and her voice sounded like dust. “Finally you stopped running."
I swallowed. "Who are you?"
Her smile wasn't a nice one. "The first one. The one who stayed when the others couldn’t bea
