The first thing Laim noticed was the cold.
Not the ordinary cold of winter air or damp clothes. This was something deeper, something that seemed to settle inside his bones and whisper that he had been dead for a very long time.
The second thing he noticed was that someone was holding his hand.
"Laim?"
He knew that voice.
His brother.
Laim opened his eyes.
He was lying on a field of black grass beneath a colorless sky. Far above him, enormous silver rings rotated around a dark moon, their movements so slow that watching them made his head ache.
His brother knelt beside him.
For the first time, Laim could see his face clearly.
He looked about seventeen, perhaps a little older than Laim remembered being himself. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and silver eyes watched Laim with an expression that was painfully, unmistakably human.
There were no claws.
No monstrous limbs.
No shifting darkness.
Just a boy.
A boy who looked exhausted.
A boy who had spent years waiting for someone who had never come.
Laim swallowed.
"What's your name?"
His brother went still.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he lowered his head.
"You really don't remember."
It wasn't a question.
Laim's chest tightened.
"I remember pieces."
"Of course you do."
His brother gave a humorless laugh.
"She always leaves you pieces."
"Who?"
But before his brother could answer, the ground beneath them pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
A fourth heartbeat echoed across the field.
His brother immediately stood and pulled Laim upright.
"We have to go."
"Go where?"
"Somewhere she can't see you."
"Who is she?"
His brother gripped his shoulders.
"Laim, listen to me carefully. If you see someone who looks exactly like you, don't speak to him. Don't touch him. And whatever he tells you—"
A voice interrupted from behind them.
"Don't listen to my brother."
Laim froze.
His brother's face went completely white.
Slowly, Laim turned.
A boy stood several feet away.
He had Laim's face.
His hair.
His eyes.
Even the tiny scar near his eyebrow that Laim had gotten when he fell off a bicycle as a child.
But something was wrong.
The boy's smile arrived a moment before his eyes moved.
And his shadow pointed toward the moon.
"Hello, Laim," the stranger said.
Laim couldn't move.
His brother stepped in front of him.
"Get away from him."
The other Laim tilted his head.
"Still pretending you're the protective one?"
"Shut up."
"After everything you did?"
"SHUT UP!"
The stranger's smile widened.
Then he looked past Laim's brother and addressed Laim directly.
"You've been asking the wrong questions."
Laim forced himself to speak.
"Who are you?"
The stranger placed a hand over his heart.
"I'm the reason you survived."
His brother made a strangled noise.
"Don't believe him."
The stranger ignored him.
"I'm the child your parents tried to save."
Laim looked between them.
"That's impossible. My brother said—"
"Your brother says many things."
The stranger took a step closer.
"Ask him why your mother had to choose."
Laim turned toward his brother.
His brother wouldn't meet his eyes.
And that was answer enough.
"Why?" Laim whispered.
His brother's shoulders slumped.
"Because there were three of us."
The silver rings above them stopped moving.
Laim stared at him.
"Three?"
His brother nodded.
"You. Me. And him."
The other Laim gave a little wave.
"Pleasure to meet you properly."
"Don't," his brother snapped.
"What? I'm being polite."
"You're lying."
"I'm telling him what you won't."
The stranger turned toward Laim again.
"Our parents had three children. I was the first to die."
He paused.
"Your brother followed me across the boundary to bring me back."
Laim's stomach twisted.
"And my mother?"
"She pulled you out instead."
His brother finally looked at him.
"I tried to bring him home."
His voice cracked.
"But when I reached the other side, she closed the door."
The stranger's smile disappeared.
"And left us both here."
Silence swept across the field.
Laim stared at his brother.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His brother looked at him with an expression that made Laim wish he hadn't asked.
"Because the last time you remembered us, you begged me to leave you behind."
Laim felt the world tilt.
"I would never—"
"You were six."
His brother's voice was gentle now.
"You were frightened. You didn't understand what was happening. You just wanted to go home."
He swallowed.
"And I promised I'd take you."
The other Laim laughed softly.
"But he couldn't keep that promise, could he?"
His brother whirled toward him.
"You don't get to talk about promises!"
"Why not? You broke yours first."
The stranger's face changed.
For an instant, the skin seemed to slip away, revealing something vast and dark beneath it.
"You left me here."
His brother staggered.
Laim caught his arm.
"Stop it!"
Both boys looked at him.
Laim stood between them, trembling with anger.
"I don't care what happened before. I don't care what either of you did. I'm tired of people telling me half a story and expecting me to understand the rest."
He looked at the stranger.
"If you're my brother, tell me your name."
The stranger stared at him.
Then his expression softened.
For the first time, his smile looked genuine.
"Elias."
The name struck Laim like a falling stone.
A kitchen filled with sunlight.
A little boy laughing.
A wooden sword.
A hand reaching for his.
Come on, Laim. Race you to the river!
Laim stumbled.
"Elias…"
His brother caught him.
"Don't force the memories."
But Laim was already remembering.
Elias.
The first child.
The brother who had always climbed trees too high and blamed the wind whenever he fell.
The brother who had once stolen their father's keys and locked himself in the pantry because he wanted to prove he could escape.
The brother who had cried when Laim got sick.
The brother who had disappeared from every photograph in their house.
Laim looked up.
"Elias, you were—"
"Dead?" Elias finished.
He smiled sadly.
"Yes."
Then he glanced at their other brother.
"And apparently, so was he."
Laim turned.
His brother's face had gone pale.
"What is he talking about?"
His brother opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Elias sighed.
"Oh, this is getting exhausting."
He walked toward Laim.
"Your brother isn't the one who came back wrong."
He pointed at the boy standing beside Laim.
"He is."
Laim looked at his brother.
For one terrible moment, he noticed the things he hadn't noticed before.
His brother's shadow pointed in the wrong direction.
His fingers were too cold.
And his silver eyes reflected the dark moon even when he looked away from it.
Laim stepped backward.
His brother released him immediately.
"Laim."
His voice trembled.
"Please."
Laim shook his head.
"Who are you?"
His brother closed his eyes.
And when he opened them again, the silver was gone.
His eyes were ordinary.
Warm.
Familiar.
The eyes Laim remembered from childhood.
"I am your brother," he whispered.
Then he looked toward Elias.
"And he's the reason I had to become something else."
The ground split open.
A black crack raced across the field, dividing the brothers from one another.
Elias stopped smiling.
Above them, the dark moon opened its enormous silver eye.
And from somewhere beyond the sky, their mother's voice rang out.
"THREE CHILDREN ENTERED THE BOUNDARY."
The silver rings began to spin.
"ONLY TWO WERE SUPPOSED TO RETURN."
Laim felt his mark burn.
His brother grabbed his hand.
Elias reached for the other.
And beneath the black grass, something began to climb.
Something that had been listening to their conversation.
Something that had finally recognized all three of its missing children.
Elias stared at the spreading crack.
"No."
His brother tightened his grip on Laim.
"Run."
Laim looked down.
A fourth hand had emerged from beneath the earth.
It was small.
Pale.
And it was wearing the silver ring their mother had given Laim on his sixth birthday.
The hand caught his ankle.
A child's voice whispered from beneath the ground.
"Found you."
Laim screamed.
And the world went dark again.
### Back in the House
Marco had made it approximately thirty seconds before losing his patience.
"Where is Zachary?"
Adrian, who was attempting to examine the shattered mirror without getting too close to it, didn't look up.
"Excellent question."
"Adrian."
"I don't know!"
"Then stop saying everything is an excellent question!"
"Would you prefer I start making things up?"
Marco dragged both hands down his face.
"No. I would prefer to know where my boyfriend has disappeared to, why the house has swallowed Laim, and why that creepy woman is staring at the wall."
The woman hadn't moved.
She stood beside the fireplace, watching the spot where the mirror had been.
Noah sat on the floor, hugging his knees.
"She's waiting," he whispered.
Marco turned toward him.
"For what?"
Noah looked up.
"For the wrong one to come back."
The woman smiled faintly.
"Very good."
Marco stepped toward her.
"Enough riddles. Where is Laim?"
She finally looked at him.
"Somewhere he should never have been sent."
"Bring him back."
"I cannot."
Marco's expression hardened.
"Won't or can't?"
"Can't."
She tilted her head.
"The door closed behind him."
Marco's hands curled into fists.
"Then open it."
The woman studied him for a moment.
"You love him."
It wasn't a question.
Marco's anger faltered, but only slightly.
"Yes."
"Even knowing what he carries?"
Marco stepped closer.
"Especially knowing what he's been forced to carry alone."
For the first time, the woman's expression seemed almost human.
"How unfortunate."
Marco's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because when he returns, he may not remember you."
The words settled over the room.
Marco went still.
Noah slowly lifted his head.
The woman continued.
"The boundary does not take flesh as payment. It takes the things that bind a person to the living world."
Marco's throat tightened.
"Memories?"
"Names. Faces. Promises. Love."
She turned back toward the broken mirror.
"Sometimes, it takes everything."
Marco looked at the empty space where Laim had stood.
Then he looked down at his wrist.
The silver mark Laim had left on his skin was still there.
A thin circle, crossed by a broken line.
He pressed his thumb against it.
"No."
The woman glanced at him.
Marco lifted his head.
"You can tell me all the frightening things you want. You can tell me he'll forget my face, my name, every conversation we've ever had."
His voice shook, but he didn't look away.
"But you don't get to tell me what happens next."
He stepped toward the shattered mirror.
"I'll find him."
The woman stared at him.
Then, very quietly, she said, "That is exactly what your predecessor said."
Marco stopped.
"My what?"
The woman's gaze dropped to the mark on his wrist.
For the first time, she looked truly afraid.
"Oh," she whispered.
"You shouldn't have that."
The silver circle began to glow.
And from the other side of the broken mirror, someone knocked three times.
A familiar voice answered.
"Marco?"
Marco's heart lurched.
It was Laim.
"Marco, open the door."
He took a step forward.
Noah sprang to his feet.
"DON'T!"
Marco froze.
The voice came again.
"Please. It's me."
Marco stared at the mirror.
Then he heard something that made his blood run cold.
A second voice, speaking directly behind the first.
"Don't open it, Marco. I'm still down here."
Two Laims.
One behind the mirror.
One somewhere beyond the boundary.
And both of them were calling for him.
The woman backed away from the fireplace.
"No," she whispered.
The mirror began to crack.
And Noah, trembling from head to toe, spoke the words that changed everything.
"Neither of them is the original."