The Revenant's eyes were the color of winter ice.
Caleb had expected them to be empty—hollow, devoid of the spark that separated the living from the dead. He had seen eyes like that before, in the faces of the guards at the compound, in the cold stare of Julian Blackwood as he bled out on the marble floor. The program had a way of erasing the light from a person's gaze, leaving behind only the dim reflection of a machine.
But the Revenant's eyes were not empty. They were afraid.
The pod's interface flickered again, the text scrolling across the screen in the same unsteady hand.
*I can see you. You're real. I thought you might be a dream.*
"I'm real," Caleb said. He kept his voice low, steady, the voice he had used with Troy on the road to Deepmere, with Isla in the cabin after the res
