The moment I saw the crack in her mask, I knew everything I believed was a lie.

  We were standing on opposite sides of the crumbling bridge, the abyss of shimmering starlight stretching between us. Vellamira’s skies always looked like they were swallowing the stars whole, and tonight was no different. The masked witch—no, the girl who wore the mask—stared back at me, her voice sharp and unyielding.

  “You still don’t understand, do you?” she said, the silver mask splintered across her cheek. Beneath it, I saw a sliver of her face—a pale reflection of my own.

  “I don’t understand because you won’t tell me anything!” I shouted. My voice echoed into the void. “You’ve dragged me through this nightmare, you’ve lied to me over and over, and now you expect me to trust you?”

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  She laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. “Trust me? You’re the one who doesn’t belong here.”

  “I don’t belong here? You’ve been wearing my face and hiding behind that mask, playing whatever game this is, while I’ve been—”

  “You’ve been safe,” she interrupted, her voice rising. The crack in her mask spread, spidering across the delicate silver branches. “You’ve been free while I’ve spent my life protecting you from this.” She swept her arm to gesture at the collapsing bridge, the ruins of Vellamira in the distance.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be dragged into your war, your lies. I just want to go home.”

  Her eyes—my eyes—flashed with something I couldn’t place. Anger? Sadness? Regret? “And where is that, exactly? Mundora? You think that’s your home?”

  “It’s my life!” I shouted back.

  The mask cracked again, and this time, a shard fell away completely, clinking against the ground before tumbling into the abyss. She froze, her hand darting up to cover her face, but it was too late.

  I saw her.

  Her whole face.

  And it was mine.