Page 60 of A Touch of Madness

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible at first, but then I see it—the faintest shimmer, like the remnants of some spell stitched just beneath her flesh. A weaving of magic that doesn’t belong to her, something forced inside, something unnatural trying to seep out.

The wards around the room pulse to life again.

Rebecca exhales sharply beside me. I don’t look at her, but I feel the way she tenses, the way the air shifts with the slow, careful build of magic pooling at her fingertips.

Lara notices.

She lifts her chin again, her lips twitching, that sick, knowing smile still carved into her face.

“You all think I don’t know, don’t you?” Her voice drops lower, almost conspiratorial. “You think I don’t see it? Feel it?”

She leans back against the chair, the iron restraints digging into her wrists, but she doesn’t even flinch.

“They did something to you,” I whisper, barely able to form the words.

Lara hums again, eyes flickering to the ceiling as if considering. “Maybe.”

Then she shifts again, her gaze dragging back to mine, and for a fraction of a second, the expression flickers. The edges of her smile falter, the amusement dimming, replaced by something… lost.

I seize onto it. “I know you’re still in there.”

The words ache as they come out of me.

I step closer, even as every instinct screams at me to stay away.

I think of the vision.

I think of the way she stood in front of her reflection, staring, staring, staring at her own reflection like she didn’t recognize herself. Like she wasn’t even sure if she was real.

“You looked at your reflection,” I press, voice trembling. “You didn’t know what was staring back at you. You don’t know what they’ve done to you. You’re playing a game. Why?”

She stills.

The smile fades completely as she refuses to speak. It’s enough to make my pulse trip, my breath hitch. The silence stretches, warping, twisting into something unbearable.

Then, she lunges.

The restraints hold—barely—but the force of it sends a sharp pulse through the room, the magic trembling beneath the weight of whatever she has become.

I stumble back, my heart hammering, and suddenly Dorian is there, standing in front of me, a dagger already in his hand. Rebecca and Nicole move at the same time, their magic sparking around them like embers in the dark.

Lara sits still again, but she is different now.

The cracks have sealed. The flicker of hesitation is gone.

And then, she whispers—so softly I almost don’t catch it.

“You should have let me die.”

The words slam into me like a physical thing.

I shake my head, my breath coming in ragged bursts. “Lara...”

She exhales, long and slow, like she’s just humoring me. Like she already knows how this ends.

“You should have let me die!” She screams the words this time, shaking her head frantically from side to side as she repeats those six words again and again—and again. “You should have let me die! You should have let me die! You should have let me die!” She screams into the room like she’s reciting a prayer, her words guttural, throaty, deep, and otherworldly, shaking me to my core.

Then, all at once, she stops.

---