Time was a strange thing in this place. It stretched and twisted, never obeying the natural laws of the universe. Hours felt like days, but nothing truly changed.
Ezra did not let her wander aimlessly. He wanted her to fight.
She woke one day to find a door standing in the middle of the void. Black iron, ancient engravings. When she pushed it open, she was in her childhood home—but something was off. The air smelled of rot, the lights flickered, and the photographs on the walls were filled with faces she did not recognize.
Ezra leaned against the doorway, watching her. "Your first trial, Evelyn. Find the real memories. Survive the illusions. Or lose yourself to the ones that never belonged to you."
The first figure appeared.
It wore Caleb's face—but the voice, the movements—were all wrong.