The seam widened with a sound like fabric tearing underwater.
Light bent around it—not breaking, not spilling, but warping, as if reality itself were reluctant to admit what was happening. The pearl in my hand pulsed wildly, heat searing through my fingers. A sharp crack split its surface further, the fracture glowing bright silver before dimming again.
"Easy," I whispered, though I wasn't sure to whom.
The air on the other side of the seam shifted.
I felt her then—not as a thought, not as an image—but as weight. Presence. A human steadiness trembling at the edge of something vast and wrong.
"Can you hear me?" I asked.
The words didn't echo.
They traveled.
Lena
Darkness swallowed the room whole.
Not the absence of light—but something denser, closer. Lena's breath sounded too loud in her ears as she stood frozen, fingers clenched around the edge of the desk.
"I'm here," she said, surprised that her voice didn't shake. "I don't know where here is—but I'm not running."
The mark on her palm burned sharply, casting faint silver lines across the skin of her hand, illuminating just enough to reveal movement in the air ahead of her.
Something was unfolding.
Not forming.
Aligning.
"I'm not supposed to be part of this," she said, more to steady herself than to argue. "If you dragged me into it—"
"I didn't," a voice replied softly.
Not from the room.
From between.
She sucked in a breath. "You sound… real."
"So do you," the voice answered.
The darkness thinned, pulling away from a single point in front of her. Light bled through like mist burned off by morning sun, revealing a silhouette on the other side of something transparent—something cracked and shimmering.
A person-shaped outline.
But distorted, as if seen through rain-streaked glass.
You
I could see her.
Not clearly.
Her shape flickered, overlapping with reflections that weren't hers—angles wrong, movements delayed by half a second. The seam trembled violently, resisting the clarity of the moment.
She took a cautious step forward.
I mirrored it instinctively.
The instant we did, pain lanced through my chest.
The pearl screamed.
Light burst outward in a blinding flash, forcing me to shield my eyes. When my vision cleared, the chamber had changed. The unfinished stone walls rippled, as if struggling to decide whether they belonged to this place—or hers.
"Stop moving," I said quickly.
She froze.
"You too," she replied.
We both obeyed.
The seam stabilized slightly, though its edges smoked faintly, like overheated metal plunged into cold water.
"You're not what I expected," she said after a moment.
Something twisted in my chest. "What were you expecting?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "Something less… human."
I almost laughed. Almost.
"I could say the same."
The connection hummed between us—taut, vibrating, dangerous. I could feel the mark on my palm echoing hers, the sensation overlapping until I couldn't quite tell where my body ended and awareness began.
And then—
Something shifted behind her.
Not movement.
Attention.
The air around her darkened subtly, shadows deepening as if leaning closer. The seam reacted instantly, narrowing, silver light surging like a barrier being reinforced.
"Do you feel that?" I asked.
"Yes," she said softly. "And I don't like it."
The presence pressed closer.
Not to her body.
To the space around her.
A voice brushed against the edge of my thoughts—familiar, patient, amused.
This is inefficient.
I clenched my teeth. "Don't listen," I said sharply.
"To what?" she asked.
"Anything that doesn't sound like you."
The presence recoiled slightly—not gone, but irritated.
The pearl pulsed again, weaker this time. Cracks spidered across its surface, light leaking out in uneven streams.
"I think something's breaking," she said.
"Yes," I replied. "And it's probably important."
The seam began to distort, its center pulling inward like a collapsing star.
"No," she said suddenly. "Wait."
She stepped forward again—just half a step.
Against my instincts, I did the same.
For one heartbeat—
We were clear.
Her face sharpened into focus, rain-dark hair clinging to her temples, eyes wide but steady. I knew that look. I had worn it before—on the edge of something terrifying, refusing to look away.
She saw me too.
Fully.
Recognition flared between us—not memory, not familiarity—but certainty.
This matters.
The presence surged violently.
The tower screamed.
The pearl shattered.
Light exploded outward, the seam snapping shut with a sound like thunder tearing itself apart. I was thrown backward, crashing hard against the stone floor as the chamber collapsed into chaos—walls sealing, symbols burning out, rain sound cutting off abruptly.
Silence followed.
Thick.
Final.
Lena
The lights slammed back on.
Lena fell to her knees, palms flat against the floor, gasping. The room was normal again—desk, walls, humming lights.
Dry.
Too dry.
Her heart hammered painfully as she looked down at her hand.
The mark was still there.
Brighter now.
Alive.
She closed her eyes.
"I saw you," she whispered.
The words didn't vanish into silence.
They lingered.
And somewhere far away, on cold stone slick with fading silver light, you whispered back—
"So did I."