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Amara had always been a sleepwalker. As a child, her parents would find her wandering the hallways, mumbling nonsensical phrases, her eyes wide open but unseeing. Over time, they learned to guide her gently back to bed, chalking it up to an odd but harmless quirk. But as she grew older, her nocturnal wanderings became more elaborate.

The night the world ended, Erin woke to the sound of her own screams. Her dorm room was bathed in crimson light, a cruel glow filtering through the heavy curtains. Heart pounding, she pressed a hand to her chest and felt the frantic rhythm beneath her skin. The nightmare had been vivid: blood, screams, and something feral lurking just out of sight. But the pain in her throat was what lingered.

The twin suns hung low in the alien sky, painting the jagged, obsidian-like cliffs in hues of crimson and gold. What had once seemed like a promising new world for humanity’s expansion now stood revealed as a nightmare. The colony ship Endeavor had landed only three months prior, filled with hope, but now its battered husk lay gutted on the horizon—a skeletal reminder of the dream that had quickly turned to ash.

It wasn’t just the speed. The clouds churned as if alive, twisting into shapes that defied natural patterns. She could swear the swirling masses formed fleeting images—eyes, mouths, grotesque expressions—before dissipating back into amorphous darkness. Shaking her head, she dismissed it as her imagination. Storms could play tricks on the mind. But as she turned toward the house, the wind picked up, carrying with it a low, guttural moan that stopped her in her tracks.

The day Elise found the antique mirror, the sky was painted in a brooding gray, the clouds swollen with unspent rain. She’d stumbled upon it in an unassuming thrift shop while hunting for knick-knacks to fill her bare apartment. The mirror was an ornate relic of another time, its frame carved with twisting vines and grinning faces that seemed almost alive. Something about it drew her in—a strange pull she couldn’t quite explain. The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with piercing eyes, sold it to her for a pittance, warning, “It’s more than it seems, dear.”