PREVIEW

... existed—halfway between memory and machine, body light as smoke, mind too full to think.

He stood in a white room, clean, sterile, humming like a dying neon bulb.

Dozens of monitors lined the walls. On each one: him.

But not just him.

Him smiling. Him crying. Him stabbing someone. Him kissing her.

"Which one is you?"

The voice was his.

But also... not.

Kael turned to see himself—same hoodie, same glitching watch, but this one smile ...

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