How could you leave me, Mom? Who was my father? Did he mean anything to you?

She’d never have answers. She would only have an ache that stretched backward and forward and kept going as far as she could see.

The stage lights clicked off, and then the audience lights. Suddenly she stood in blackness so complete that her balance wavered. Her ears thrummed to their full power, ready to seize any small sound.

“What is this, Hess?” she said, annoyed. “I can’t see.”

A spotlight sliced through the darkness, blinding her. Aria lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the light and waiting for them to adjust. She could just make out the dark void of the orchestra pit below and the rows of seats beyond. High above, thousands of crystals from the grand chandelier twinkled.

“A bit theatrical for you, isn’t this, Hess? Are you going to sing Phantom of the Opera to me?” On a whim, she sang a few lines of “All I Ask of You.” She’d only meant to play around, but the lyrics swept her up. The next thing she knew, she was thinking of Perry and singing.

She’d missed the way the hall amplified her control and power. This stage had never been mere boards on which to stand. It was alive—shoulders that propped her up and lifted her higher. When she finished, she had to cover her emotion with a smile. “No applause? You’re hard to please.”

His silence was going on too long. She pictured the small marble-topped table, the delicate saucers filled with coffee—all absent for the first time—just as an arrogant voice broke through the silence.

“It’s good to see you again, Aria. It’s been a while.”

Soren.

Dead ahead, roughly four rows back, she saw a shadowed figure silhouetted against the darkness. Aria rolled onto the balls of her feet and breathed steadily as images flashed before her eyes. Soren, chasing her as fire raged around them. Soren, on top of her, crushing her throat with his hands.

This was the Realms, she reminded herself. Better than Real. No pain. No danger. He couldn’t hurt her here.

“Where’s your father?” she asked.

“Busy,” Soren answered.

“So he sent you?”

“No.”

“You hacked your way in.”

“Hacking is something you do with a machete. This was a minor incision with a scalpel. Your mother would’ve liked that analogy. This is where you used to come with her, isn’t it? I thought you’d like coming back.”

The amusement in his voice made her stomach churn with anger. “What do you want, Soren?”

“A lot of things. But right now I want to see you.”

To see her? She doubted it. Revenge seemed more likely. He probably blamed her for what happened that night in Ag 6. She wasn’t going to wait around to find out. Aria tried to fraction out of the Realm.