Chapter 6 · free to read
The first dawn inside the glass. Everything here is the shrine, only turned wrong — the fog climbs, the steps fall away, and the seat under me is exactly as warm as they promised.
He keeps his word. Every dawn he lifts the cloth to check I am still me, then covers me again before the light can thin me.
I told him she wasn't wearing my face. I hadn't yet seen whose face she wore instead.
Her eyes were mine. Her hairpin was mine. She was the woman who first emptied this glass to seal it — my grandmother, still walking the inside of her own lock.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.