Fog rolled over the Hudson like a living thing—slithering, slow, and sentient. Atop Hayes Tower, Emma stood facing the skyline. But she wasn’t alone.

Behind her, the original Emma—newly awakened from stasis—moved with halting grace. Her eyes were the same shade, her features identical, but her essence? Off. Like a piano key a breath out of tune.

Jack stood between them, silent.

“You both dream of the same fire,” he said quietly. “But only one of you remembers where it ...