Marked in the Middle
“The locals used to say time has rules, but the mountains don’t. Step wrong, and you might walk out decades earlier or never at all.”
Grayson smirked. “That’s comforting.”
They ate in uneasy silence, the fire casting long shadows against the train car’s walls. Outside, the mist had thickened, carrying faint whispers that could’ve been wind or something else entirely.
When Nora lay down to rest, she dreamt of mirrors.
In the dream, she stood before an endless field of glass. Each reflection showed a version of her, younger, older, broken, laughing. Some were human; others had eyes like molten gold, skin glowing with the Rift’s mark.
Sikat na Kabanata