Lara's voice was barely more than a whisper now, not because she wanted to keep quiet—but because her throat had closed around the truth. Her back met the cold wall behind her, eyes locked onto the girl who had once dragged her through hell and now sat bound like a storm waiting to be unchained.
Esme's features didn't shift. She didn't shapeshift. She didn't beg. She just… watched. Like she understood exactly what Lara had seen. Like she had known this moment would come.
"You were human," Lara said, voice trembling. "Or you used to be."
"I'm still me," Esme said softly, but there was something hollow beneath it. "Just… not the me you remember."
Lara dragged in a breath. Her hands shook like a novice's. "You're not just hiding. You're—fractured. Split between something too old and something too innocent."
Esme looked down. That was the truth. And the lie.
"I didn't want you to see," she murmured. "I didn't want anyone to see. Not until I understood it myself."
