Zion didn't dream.
It was a system rule, one of the first she had learned in her second run: Players didn't need to sleep.
Fatigue was a parameter she could toggle off with a thought, like muting an annoying notification.
That's why she didn't understand what was happening when she closed her eyes.
The mirror was huge.
It took up the whole wall of a cathedral that didn't exist on any map she had seen, with black stone columns and stained glass windows showing cracks, irregular lines stretching outward like roots.
Zion stood in front of the mirror.
Her reflection didn't mimic her.
Instead, there was a boy.
Thin, with pale blue hair stuck to his forehead like he had just come out of the water.
Blue eyes looked at her from the other side of the glass with an expression she couldn't classify immediately.
It wasn't hate.
It was something worse.
"Do you remember what you did?"
The boy's voice sounded muffled, as if the mirror was as thick as a wall.
