It was
my mother. It was really her!
Her smile was gentle. “You’ve grown,” she said, voice like honey and rain.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know if I should cry or fall to my knees.
She stepped closer, lifting her hand to my cheek. Her touch was warm—too warm for a dream. I almost began to believe it was real.
“I miss you,” I whispered.
She nodded. “I know.”
I let out a shuddering breath, gripping her wrist. “They’re all dead. Mama, she killed them. Alexa…she…”
“I know,” she said again, soft and certain. “I saw.”
I blinked back tears. “Then why didn’t you stop it? Why didn’t anyone stop it?”
“Because it’s your path, Mira.”
Her words sliced through me. I froze. I already knew that, but hearing them from her was unnerving.
“No one else can walk it. No one else can
