Eryis doesn’t know about my old self. She only knows me as Tara, her mother. Because of that, I feel my heart sinking to my stomach, every organ I have threatening to shut down as my marrows excrete pain that has me quivering.

“That’s not me, honey,” I say shakily despite trying to control my voice.

Thankfully, Eryis didn’t pick up the panic in my tone. “It’s you. It looks like you. A Halloween verrshion of you,” she insists. “Will you please dwesh like dis forr next ...