The third year broke something in him.
His outbursts dwindled, leaving exhaustion in their wake. His body betrayed him—hands trembling, voice cracking, eyes stinging with tears he refused to shed.
The staff stopped treating him like a monster. They treated him like a case study. Observed, recorded, detached. It was worse than fear. At least fear acknowledged his power.
But the mirror… the mirror became his true warden.
At night, the boy inside pressed his palm to the glass. Ty pressed back, desperate to reassert himself. But the other boy's hand didn't tremble. It was steady. Steadier than Ty had ever been.
Ty realized with a sick twist in his gut that the boy wasn't resisting him.
The boy was waiting for him to fall.