Buzz's scream tore straight through the metal haze, raw enough to shake Zza's claws as she held him. His whole body flickered again, the fused patterns rippling across his shell as if the Ghost were dragging him frame by frame into some broken memory.
Zza could feel him slipping. Not physically. In his mind.
The Mirror-Ghost drifted forward with quiet steps that felt wrong for something without breath. Its limbs stretched in slow arcs, every movement familiar in a way that made Zza's skin crawl. It walked with Buzz's stride. It tilted its head like her. It bent its limbs like the Queen. A collage of their worst days stitched together into a shape that didn't blink.
Buzz jerked again, his legs kicking against the metal. "Zza— it's scraping through everything. It grabbed something from when I hatched. A touch. A voice. It's mixing them inside my head like paint."
