"I was in my apartment. I thought it was real. It felt real. But it wasn’t. It was like a dream... or no, not a dream, a prison. A memory... but twisted. I think I was trapped inside it. And there was... someone else in there with me. I think she was my... I don't know. But I knew something was wrong. Something was off. Things kept... is glitching the right word? They would pop in and out of existence or shift suddenly. And.... Ariel showed up. She attacked the person I was with, in a wreath of fire."

  The air had gone still. The mist no longer drifted; it hung, dense and colorless, a curtain drawn tight around the ruins. Ariel’s chest rose and fell in shallow rhythm, the sound of her own heartbeat too loud in her ears. Beside her, Fornaskr stood unmoving, his weapon still raised, the edges of his armor faintly glinting in the diffuse light. Shika prowled in a slow circle, growling low, her fur bristled so thickly she looked twice her size.

  The voice came again.

  “Ariel?”

  The fog shuddered, splitting open just enough to reveal a shape—a woman, her outline soft but unmistakable. Her hair fell in pale gold waves that caught the faint light, and when she stepped forward, her face came into view. Ariel’s breath broke in her throat.

  “Holly…”

  Her voice was a ghost of sound. The name left her lips before she could stop it. The figure smiled, and the world fell away.

  She looked the same. Every detail—the slight tilt of her head, the kindness in her eyes, the curve of her mouth when she spoke—was perfect. The way she reached out her hand was the same way she had done a thousand times before. Ariel took a step forward without realizing.

  “You found me,” the illusion said softly. “You always find me.”

  Ariel’s fingers tightened around her staff. “I… I thought…” Her throat closed, and the rest of the words refused to come. The emotion was too much, too sudden. Tears blurred her sight.

  Fornaskr made a sound behind her—something between a gasp and a sob. Ariel turned her head slightly. Through the mist, another form was taking shape—a child, small, barefoot, with silver hair and wide, bright eyes. Fornaskr’s weapon slipped from his grasp, striking the stone with a hollow ring.

  The boy ran to him, laughing. “Father!”

  Fornaskr fell to his knees. His face twisted as if in pain, tears streaking the ash on his cheeks. “No… it can’t be…” He opened his arms, and the boy collided with him, solid and warm, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

  Ariel couldn’t breathe. Her vision swam between the two figures, the woman she loved and the man who had lost everything, and for one aching moment, she believed. She wanted to believe.

  Holly smiled. “You look tired,” she said gently. “You’ve been fighting so long. You don’t have to anymore.”

  Ariel shook her head, but her voice came out as a whisper. “You’re not real.”

  The woman tilted her head. “Does it matter?” she asked softly. “I feel real, don’t I?” She took another step closer, her bare feet silent on the wet stone. “Don’t you want to rest?”

  The question landed in Ariel’s chest like a blade. Her body trembled, and her will faltered. She had dreamed of this voice so many nights—Holly laughing, whispering, breathing against her ear. Every instinct screamed for her to run, but her heart refused to move.

  “Holly…” she said again, voice breaking. “If you’re real… what was the small poem we spoke when overlooking the Sound... The Saturday before the car accident?”

  Holly smiled. “To all the quiet tomorrows we haven't yet seen. May they rise like the tide: Gentle, steady, serene.”

  Ariel flinched. The words were right. Perfect. And yet, as Holly spoke them, the tone was wrong...too smooth... too even. Like a line rehearsed too many times.

  Behind her, Fornaskr clutched his son tighter, laughing through tears. “You’ve grown,” he said. “You’re taller than I remember.”

  The boy laughed, but the sound was hollow, like wind through glass. “You always say that, Father.”

  Ariel turned, watching the scene unfold. Fornaskr’s face was unrecognizable, grief and joy intertwined. The sight hurt to watch. It hurt worse to think it wasn’t real.

  Then the air rippled, and a thin, cruel laugh spilled through the mist.

  It came from everywhere at once.

  “Oh, how sweet,” the voice cooed. “Two hearts that bleed the same.”

  Ariel froze. Fornaskr stiffened, his arms still around the illusion. The sound carried a vibration, a resonance that made the runes around them pulse faintly with violet light.

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  Tyna’s voice.

  “You ache for what was lost,” she whispered. “You beg the void for mercy, and still you pretend you can let go. So I brought them back. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Ariel’s heart pounded, but her eyes refused to leave her wife's face. Holly blinked slowly, her expression shifting with perfect mimicry. “I’m here. You saved me,” she said.

  Fornaskr’s boy tugged at his father’s armor. “When can we go home?”

  But even his words were wrong. His tone too measured. The cadence echoed strangely, repeating itself in faint reverberations.

  Fornaskr blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What...?”

  Then the boy smiled again, but his teeth were too sharp.

  Shika’s snarl broke the trance. The red panda darted forward, circling between the illusions, her fur standing on end. She barked once, sharp and angry, and bared her teeth.

  “Shika, stop,” Ariel said faintly. “It’s okay.”

  The creature ignored her, hissing at the false Holly. Her face softened into a mockery of sadness. “You shouldn’t have left me,” she said. “Do you know how lonely it’s been?”

  “I didn’t leave you,” Ariel whispered, tears streaming freely now. “I—”

  Holly took her hand. It was warm. Familiar. Ariel gasped.

  “Then stay,” Holly murmured. “Stay with me. We can be whole again.”

  Her eyes glowed faintly violet as she spoke.

  Fornaskr staggered to his feet, his illusory son still holding his hand. “Father,” the boy said, voice breaking into two tones at once. “We can go home now.”

  Something inside Fornaskr snapped. He looked down at the boy, eyes wide with horror. “No,” he said hoarsely. “You died. I saw you fall. I watched you...”

  The boy’s smile twisted. “Then jump and find me.”

  The voice layered, warped. The boy’s shape began to flicker like a lens out of focus.

  Shika yipped sharply, lunging at the illusion’s leg. Her teeth passed through air, and yet the image screamed. The sound was inhuman, reverberating through the stones. The mist recoiled in waves, and cracks of violet light split the ground.

  Fornaskr stumbled back, shielding his face. The illusion of the boy dissolved from the waist up, leaving a smear of distortion that rippled outward like ink in water. Holly faltered as well, her face fragmenting into shards of light and shadow. Her smile melted, lips stretching too wide.

  Tyna’s laughter filled the air again, echoing through itself until it became a chorus.

  “Oh, the little beast sees through me,” she purred. “Clever thing. Must be that eye...”

  Ariel’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. “Stop it!” she screamed. “Stop using them!”

  The voice only laughed harder. “Using? Oh, child… you made them. I only gave them form.”

  A shadow drifted through the mist—tall, willowy, and half-translucent. Tyna emerged like a ghost rising from smoke, her body blurred and colorless except for the bright crimson of her eyes. Chains of runic light wound lazily around her limbs, fading in and out of sight.

  “You burn the world to find her,” Tyna said, her tone almost tender. “And still you pretend you’re better than me.”

  Ariel forced herself to her feet. “You don’t know what love is.”

  The Acolyte tilted her head, smiling faintly. “Oh, but I do. Love is hunger. It devours until there’s nothing left.”

  Her face changed then—half the features shifting into Holly’s, half into Fornaskr’s son’s. The fusion was grotesque, each half whispering a different phrase: “I missed you.” “Father, please.”

  Fornaskr gritted his teeth, fury finally breaking through the haze of grief. “You’ll regret that.”

  He raised his weapon, and for a moment, the light from the runes caught on the steel. “This ends now.”

  Tyna laughed softly. “Oh, you think you’re ready?” She extended her hand, and the mist rippled outward, swallowing the plaza in violet light. “Then wake up, dreamers.”

  Ariel felt the world shift under her feet. The stone trembled. Shadows lengthened, stretching into shapes that shouldn’t exist. The air thickened until it felt like syrup in her lungs.

  Fornaskr lunged first, his blade cutting through the illusion’s form—but it met no resistance. Tyna stepped backward, her body dissolving into smoke. “Swing again,” she taunted, her voice echoing from three different directions at once. “And again. And again.....and again...”

  Shika barked sharply, darting between them, her claws clicking against stone. Ariel steadied her breathing, forcing focus. “You can’t make me see her again,” she said, clutching her staff.

  “Oh, but you already do,” Tyna replied.

  The mist flickered, and Holly’s voice whispered right beside Ariel’s ear. “Don’t leave me again.”

  Ariel spun, swinging her staff through empty air. Nothing.

  Tyna’s laughter followed, soft as silk. “Every memory is a chain, Ariel. And I've never seen one more beautiful than yours. It's no wonder Gloymr has his eyes on you.”

  Fornaskr shouted something, but his words were drowned by a shriek from the illusion as Shika leapt again, her teeth flashing. The acolyte hissed, her form warping, fracturing at the edges. The runes along the obelisk blazed in sudden brilliance, violet light flooding the plaza.

  Ariel shielded her eyes. The heat of it stung her skin. Through the blinding light, she could see Tyna’s shape unraveling—first her arms, then her face—until only her eyes remained, burning like two dying stars.

  The laughter faded into a whisper. “You’ll wish you had stayed asleep.”

  And then the mist collapsed, falling inward like a breath being drawn. When it cleared, the plaza was silent again. The ruins glowed faintly with residual light, steam rising from the wet stone.

  Fornaskr stood still, weapon lowered, his chest heaving. Shika panted beside Ariel, her fur scorched at the tips but her eyes bright. Ariel looked at her hands. They trembled uncontrollably.

  “She’s not gone,” Ariel said softly.

  Fornaskr nodded, his expression grim. “No. She’s just watching.”

  Ariel turned her gaze toward the darkness where Tyna had vanished. The air there shimmered faintly, rippling like the surface of water. Somewhere beyond that veil, something shifted, unseen.

  The faint sound of laughter lingered—so soft, so low, it could almost have been the wind.