The wind on the mountaintop just stopped. Not a breeze, not a whisper—gone. The silence pressed in so hard Julian’s ears rang. Down at the bottom of those weird, bright stairs stood the man who looked like Maya’s father. He wasn’t breathing. Didn’t blink. Just stared at Maya, those green eyes glowing like radio dials in the dark.
“Maya, don’t go near him,” Julian said, stepping in front of her. He gripped his gun so tight his knuckles went pale. Cold rolled off the people who’d come down from the sky. It felt like standing next to an open freezer, but worse—like the cold wanted to crawl inside you.
“It’s okay, Julian,” Maya whispered, though her voice shook. She stepped around him anyway. “He… he has my father’s smile. Even if it’s a lie, I need to know.”
The man reached out his hand. “
