Rain slicks the cobblestones of Atheria Square, reflecting neon like spilled oil. I stand beneath the clocktower, heartbeat syncing with its ticking—a rhythm I shouldn’t have. Five years dead. Five years silent. And yet here I am, flesh warming, breath returning, drawn back by the sound of his voice on a public feed.\n\nDerek stands at the edge of the old concert hall, collar high against the cold, eyes hollow. He’s speaking to someone—pleading. Then I hear it: 'I didn’t know they’d kill her. I only wanted justice for Lexi.'\n\nMy fingers twitch. I remember the violin snapping beneath me as I fell. The gasps. The silence. The way he looked down at me, not with triumph, but horror.\n\nNow he turns. Sees me. Staggers back like I’m a specter—and maybe I am.\n\nBut which one of us is more damned?