Morning came, but Rachel didn't.
She lay in bed, motionless, chest rising in slow, shallow breaths. I could feel her dreams from the inside—static noise and fragments of fear. Whatever her soul saw in limbo hadn't left her.
But I was awake. Restless. Like something had come back with me.
I slipped out of bed and walked quietly through the mansion. My steps echoed faintly on marble. Rachel's body felt heavier this morning. Slower. Like her soul hadn't fully returned.
Maybe it hadn't.
I told myself I just wanted to stretch. Breathe. Think. But my feet took me toward the study. The air near that room had weight again—the kind you feel just before lightning strikes.
I stopped before the door cracked open just slightly. Voices carried through it, low but clear.
Miss Rosaline:
"What if she's a merger?"
Madame's voice came next, smooth and sharp like velvet over steel.
"We don't know that yet."
I leaned closer, every cell in Rachel's skin on alert.
Rosaline again, quieter:
"It's risky to keep her inside that girl for too long. Rachel's not breaking, but even she is having visions of limbo. That… place left a mark. What if Serah's already merged with her soul?"
A pause. Then the words dropped like a knife:
"She could kill the poor girl. She's dangerous."
My breath caught.
Silence. Then Madame answered, "That's why she must stay under watch. Closely." A beat. "Trying to force a soul out… that's why I was damned."
The way she said it—flat, final, hollow—made something twist in me.
Rosaline's voice softened. "It's not your fault, Madame."
"For now," Madame said, "we do what we can. Train her. Observe. Prepare."
I backed away. Didn't wait to hear the rest. My heart—or Rachel's—was pounding too hard. I couldn't tell whose anymore.
Am I killing her?
The thought hit like ice water. My chest tightened. My hands trembled. I wasn't just borrowing a life anymore, was I? I was sinking into it.
I walked quickly back to our room, hands shaking as I pushed open the door. Rachel was still asleep, her face soft, unaware of the doomsday whispers that had just rattled the hallway. I stood there, watching the mirror, wondering what I'd become.
She stirred minutes later, rubbing her eyes groggily.
"Was my body on autopilot again?" she mumbled.
I gave a blank smile. Nothing behind it.
She blinked at me. "What's wrong?"
"Your joke didn't land," I muttered. "Work on it."
She rolled her eyes. "There she is. My favorite emotional parasite."
"At least one of us is thriving," I said, "given the absolute demon parade this week's been."
I forced a laugh. It came out hollow, but she didn't notice.
"You know," I added, stretching, "I'm looking forward to my divine chariot to heaven after fulfilling my mysterious desire."
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You'll need my help with that, huh?"
I winked. "Naturally."
Breakfast was served. The table smelled like cardamom and quiet tension. Madame wasn't there. Miss Rosaline sat at the head, reading from a black folder as maids poured tea. She looked up only once.
"We'll head to college together today," she said. "Then return together. Eyes will be on both of you."
Rachel was about to answer when I stepped forward from within and took the wheel.
"I'd like to visit my house first. Before college."
Rosaline studied me for a second too long… then nodded. "As you wish."
As we walked to prepare, Rachel whispered inside my head, "Why'd you pretend to be me just now?"
"Because I could get used to this new body of mine," I replied dryly.
"Yeah, hilarious. Should I be concerned?"
"Only if I start monologuing in Latin and levitating."
"It's surprising how you have any friends with such a poor sense of humor."
"Get a clue, I am just awesome."
Miss Rosaline's car pulled up. The moment it stopped, I spoke again through Rachel's mouth.
"I'll walk to college from here."
Rosaline paused—long, unreadable. Then nodded. "Alright. Be careful."
I stepped out, waited for the car to disappear… except it didn't. It parked again down the street, half-hidden behind a van.
"Thought so," I muttered.
Inside the house, I paused at the hallway mirror. Rachel's face stared back—pale, tired, haunted. I could feel her just beneath the surface.
Do you trust me? I asked.
Hesitation.
Then: Yes.
"Then I need full control today. Completely."
"What are you doing, Serah?"
"What I need to."
Another pause. Then she exhaled. "Okay. I'll be in the gallery, watching."
"About that…" I hesitated. "I need you to sleep. Really sleep. Pills. Just for today."
She froze.
"You mean…"
"Yes."
She stood at her medicine cabinet, staring at the bottle. I felt her fear… but also her trust. She nodded.
"I don't usually drug myself to sleep," she muttered, "so deal with it."
She took more pills than normal, lay down, rambling the whole time.
"You're not funny, you know… this bed smells like betrayal… did you touch my shampoo…"
She was out.
I slipped into full control. Rachel's face softened into sadness. Regret. Longing. I wasn't just wearing her body—I was inhabiting it.
I checked the window. Rosaline still watched.
I turned and slipped out the back. Down the alley. Into a cab.
Saturday morning sun. Quiet streets. A warm bakery bag on my lap.
I rang the bell of my house—'Serah's house.'
Liam opened the door, grinning. "Hey! You brought pie?"
"And donuts," I said. "Your favorite."
"You remembered!"
"Mine too."
Inside, Mom and Dad sat at the table. Mom looked surprised. "Rachel? So early?"
"Thought I'd drop by. Brought something sweet."
We ate together like we hadn't in years. When I hugged my mom, she knew. She lingered, didn't speak, just watched me walk away like she could feel the goodbye.
Around the corner, I pulled out Rachel's phone.
I texted Emma:
Hey. I found something in Serah's diary. Something about Devon. It looked bad. Here's the passkey. Hope you're okay. Love, Rachel.
She replied fifteen minutes later:
Thank you for this.
I whispered, "Enjoy the gift, Devon."
The weight in my chest loosened. Slightly.
Then—Ezra.
He looked awful. Pale, sunken eyes, shoulders heavy with something unspeakable.
"You okay?" I asked softly. "You look like you've been fighting shadows."
He stared. "Rachel… you've never talked like this before."
Right. Wrong soul. Wrong voice.
"I mean—sorry. Just worried."
He didn't question it. Instead, he softened, almost reaching for me with his gaze. We talked. Laughed a little. Sat under the dying sun. Then he asked:
"You free this weekend? Dinner? Maybe a drive?"
Classic Ezra.
I smiled. "Yeah. Sure."
Inside, I whispered:
Good luck, cousin. You finally got what you wanted. I just won't be here to see it.
By lunchtime, I stood at the foot of the church steps. The sky dimmed to orange-blue. Bells tolled.
Behind me… a familiar stare.
I didn't turn.
"Thanks for seeing me off," I whispered.
Hand on the door. Breath held.
"Thank you, Rachel. For everything."