COLD STEEL, BLEEDING HEARTS
For a moment, the smoke cleared—and Maya saw its face.
Her own face stared back.
Not the Maya in a torn coat, but a Maya with eyes like empty stars, a crown of black glass on her head.
“Who are you?” Maya whispered, out of breath.
“I’m the part of the story you tried to erase,” the shadow said. Her voice was Maya’s, only colder, more perfect. “I’m the ‘No’ to your ‘Yes.’ I’m the hunger you tried to call love.”
The shadow stepped closer. The black chains pulsed with a sick light.