I woke up to hear knocking on glass. At first I thought it came from the window, then I realized it was coming from the mirror.

The knock echoed again — deliberate, sharp. I sat up slowly, heart lurching against my ribs like it already knew what I was about to see. Moonlight washed the room in silver, but the mirror across from the bed gleamed darker, like its surface drank the light instead of reflecting it.

I wasn’t alone in the room.

In the mirror, she stood — barefoot, blood dripping from her fingers, eyes gleaming like cut obsidian.

Me.

But not me.

The Hollow Twin.

Her mouth curled into a smile that had nothing kind in it.

“You’re slipping, Aria,” she whispered, though her lips never moved. “You keep pretending you’re in control, but you called me last time. You wanted me to take the pain away.”

“I didn’t,” I whispered, throat dry. “You took it.”

She tilted her head. “Does it matter? You felt better after.”

I wanted to stand. To leave. But my legs were stone, and the longer I looked at her, the heavier my body became. She pressed her palm to the inside of the mirror — and I felt it like pressure against my chest. Like she could step through me at any moment.

“You’re afraid of him,” she said suddenly, eyes flicking to the side. “Of Alec. Not because he’ll hurt you — but because he might see you. All of you.”

I flinched.

The door creaked open. I didn’t move.

“Aria?” Alec’s voice — rough, half-asleep — cut through the silence. “Are you okay?”

I turned my head. Slowly. Too slowly.

He stood in the doorway, shirtless, flame-glow flickering faintly at his fingertips. Ready to fight, protect. From what, he probably didn’t know. But he came anyway.

Behind me, the mirror began to tremble.

“Don’t look,” I croaked.

He was already crossing the room. “What’s happening—?”

Then he saw it. Her. His eyes locked on the mirror, and for the first time, he saw her too.

His jaw tightened. “What the hell—”

“I can’t hold her,” I said. “She’s close tonight. I—I woke up and she was already here.”

He moved fast — not away, but toward me. Sat on the bed beside me and took my hands in his like it was the most natural thing in the world. His palms were warm.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice low. “You’re not alone in this.”

But that was the problem. I was. Even he couldn’t reach the place where she lived.

The mirror cracked. A hairline fracture from corner to corner, like a lightning bolt through the glass.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“She wants to come out,” I said, eyes stinging. “And every time she does, I lose something. A memory. A piece of myself. I don’t know how much longer I can—”

He pulled me into him before I could finish. His arms wrapped tight around me, grounding me. His heartbeat was steady against my cheek.

“You’re stronger than her,” he said.

The mirror stopped shaking.

“She is me,” I whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. “Then we’ll face her together.”

And for the first time, I wondered if that might be true. But even as I let him hold me, I could still feel the knock — soft this time — against the back of my skull. A reminder.

She’s still waiting.