Isaac's notebook felt heavier than ever in Rhea's hands. Each page was a scar, a story of souls broken and lives lost — but also a roadmap.
"We need to find the first life where your past self broke through," Isaac said, voice low. "If we can trace it back, maybe we can seal the fracture."
Rhea stared at the worn ink sketches — faces twisted in fear, places swallowed by shadows. She couldn't shake the feeling that the city itself was watching, waiting.
"Where do we start?" she asked.
Isaac's eyes darkened. "The old cemetery on the east side. That's where your soul first fractured — where death started to follow you."
The rain was heavier now, hammering on the cracked windows of the abandoned building they'd taken refuge in. Outside, shadows flickered like restless spirits.
Rhea clenched the talisman in her fist, feeling its icy burn against her skin.
"I don't want to die again," she whispered.
Isaac looked at her, expression unreadable. "You already have. But this time, it's different. You're not alone."
Suddenly, a low growl echoed from the hallway.
Rhea's breath caught.
The ghostly past self stepped out from the darkness but this time, she wasn't alone.
Behind her, figures emerged twisted reflections of Rhea's previous lives, all hungry for release.
Isaac raised his voice. "Run."
But it was already too late.
The room exploded into chaos, shadows swallowing light, and Rhea's fight for survival had just become a war for her very soul.