The silhouette stood at the far end of the tunnel, half perched between darkness and the thin ribbon of light leaking from the runes above us. At first it looked like a shadow pretending to be human, a shape that had not yet decided whether it wanted to stay attached to the floor. But then the light shifted, and my stomach dropped so hard it felt like the ground betrayed me.
It was me.
Not a reflection. Not a trick of the runes. Not a ghostly shimmer shaped like a passing thought.
Me.
Standing.
Breathing.
Watching.
The figure stepped forward, just enough that the faint silver glow beneath its skin caught the light. Runes threaded along its throat, under its cheekbones, tracing the curve of its jaw. They flickered softly, like ink lit from inside. Like someone had peeled me open and
