Tylor's breath caught. His father's voice—older, weathered, barely above a whisper—leaked through the rift like a message trapped in time.
"Don't trust the reflection… She's not alone."
Mirror-Amaira stepped aside, allowing the sound to pass, but not the figure behind it. Her expression remained unreadable. "He's trapped between timelines. She put him there. To keep him from interfering."
Tylor's fists clenched. "Who? Who's she?"
Mirror-Amaira lowered her eyes. "Elena. The original. Before she fractured."
Amaira flinched. "That doesn't make sense—our mom died stopping the Collective."
"She did," Mirror-Amaira replied, "your version of her. But before the rupture that created all of this—fractures, doubles, the Chronarch—there was an Elena who saw too far. She created the first mirror gate. She split herself to protect what she built."
Kayla whispered, stunned, "She became her own shadow."
Elias took a step back, jaw tightening. "Then that means… there's a version of Elena still out there."
Mirror-Amaira nodded. "Alive. And in control of the in-between space—where time doesn't move forward, backward, or at all."
Tylor turned toward the glowing rift. The hum grew louder now, harmonizing with his pulse. "My dad was trying to stop her. That's why he took Amaira… not to harm her—but to hide her."
Mirror-Amaira hesitated. "And he failed. Because I wasn't meant to exist. I was… insurance."
"Then why help us?" Kayla asked.
"Because even she doesn't see everything," Mirror-Amaira said, eyes glinting. "And I don't want to be her puppet."
Suddenly, the rift flared, and from within—half-seen in the distortion—Tylor saw his father's silhouette reaching out, chained in threads of light.
"I can get him out," Mirror-Amaira said. "But it comes at a cost."
Tylor stepped closer. "What cost?"
She glanced at Amaira. "You'll have to break the timeline again."
Kayla looked at Tylor, dread blooming. "We just fixed it."
Mirror-Amaira's voice softened. "Then you already know what happens when it's left to rot." She opened her palm. A silver shard hovered there—part of the same spiral key they once used.
Only this one pulsed like it was alive.
Amaira stepped forward, trembling. "Then we choose. Now."
And from inside the rift, Daniel's voice called once more:
"Tylor… don't become him."
The clearing fell silent.
The past was reaching out again—and this time, it wanted blood.