The Mirror Gate pulsed like a living wound, its light fractured, jagged like broken glass. Caleb reached for Aria, but her figure was already caught in the shimmer. The hand of her shadow-self—smoke and silver, bone and blood—wrapped around her arm and yanked her forward.

She fell.

Not through space.

Through herself.

The world twisted, warped. Her bones felt too light, her spirit too heavy. Aria landed hard on blackened grass beneath a bleeding sky. The realm was cold, yet humid, like ...