Lyra froze mid-step.
Before her stood a figure cloaked in obsidian armor laced with gold, his face concealed behind a visor of cracked glass. The moment her gaze met his, a strange electricity sizzled in the air—not danger… recognition.
Zero-One lifted his gunblade, his stance defensive. "That's not just another Court emissary…"
"No," Lyra whispered, heart hammering. "That's—"
The stranger removed his helm.
The entire Shadow Keep seemed to gasp.
Because the man who stood before her—
Had her face.
Not exactly. But close enough to see the bone structure, the gaze, the familiar arch of a defiant brow.
It was like staring into a warped mirror that showed not your reflection, but the possibility of who you could've been—had everything gone wrong.
"He looks like me," Lyra's mind reeled, "if my soul had grown twisted in the dark instead of burned for justice."
The figure smiled coldly.
