**External POV**
Avery had remained still behind the simple table that served as her vanity, her fingers resting on the mark.
Something was wrong.
Not physically.
Not exactly.
It was deeper.
More… diffuse.
Like a sensation crawling beneath her skin.
She frowned slightly.
Then—
a pressure.
Faint.
Inside her head.
She straightened slightly.
— …?
Nothing.
Silence.
Her room.
Everything was normal.
Too normal.
She exhaled slowly.
Ridiculous.
She was becoming paranoid.
But the moment she stood—
the world tilted.
Just for a second.
Not enough to fall.
But enough to feel that—
something had just touched her.
She instinctively raised a hand to her temple.
Her heart quickened.
— Ok… that's not normal…
A shiver slid down her spine, icy but subtle.
Then—
nothing.
Calm returned.
Sudden.
Total.
Avery stood frozen for a few seconds.
Then shook her head slightly.
— I need more rest…
she murmured.
As if that could fix everything.
She walked to her bed.
Lay down.
Stared at the ceiling.
Her thoughts were still spinning.
But her body—
was already letting go.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
Heavier and heavier.
As if something…
was helping her fall asleep.
Or pushing her toward it.
Gently forcing her.
Her breathing slowed.
Her body relaxed.
And at the exact moment she sank under—
an icy sensation grazed her mind.
Almost imperceptible.
Almost.
—
Something had just entered.
---
The darkness didn't stay empty.
It transformed.
Slowly.
Like ink spreading through water.
The floor appeared beneath her feet.
Cold.
Smooth.
Too perfect.
Avery blinked.
Her room.
Her vanity.
Her desk.
The key. Sitting exactly where she had left it.
But something wasn't right.
The setting seemed too still.
A shadow behind the desk… or was that her imagination?
— …?
She had the feeling she was reliving a moment.
The day she had brought that key home and strange things had happened.
The day she had seen her father…
Her breath caught.
Something was off.
Everything was identical.
But empty.
Lifeless.
Like a copy.
A set.
Then—
a sound.
Behind her.
A footstep.
Avery spun around abruptly.
— …Dad?
The silhouette was there.
In the shadow.
Motionless.
Immediate familiarity.
Instinctive comfort.
But something—
didn't fit.
He wasn't moving.
Not really.
As if he were waiting.
For her to speak.
— You… you're here?
Her voice trembled slightly.
The silhouette took a step forward.
The light barely grazed it.
Not enough to see his face.
But enough to feel—
that it wasn't quite him.
— You've grown.
The voice.
Familiar. Warm.
Exactly her father's.
And yet… beneath the tone there was a cold precision, an exactness stripped of all spontaneity.
Avery frowned.
— Is it really you… ?
A silence.
One second too long.
— Who else could it be?
A perfect answer.
Too perfect.
Something slipped through her mind.
A discomfort.
— Dad… ?
This time—
the silhouette leaned forward slightly to become visible at last.
And he seemed to truly be him.
Avery didn't doubt it.
She threw herself into his arms, moved.
— Oh Dad, it's really you.
He held her.
The gesture was right.
Almost reassuring.
But—
cold.
A subtle coldness, slipped beneath the skin.
Avery barely shivered.
Without understanding.
Without holding onto it.
Because she didn't want to.
Because she needed this to be real.
The situation was impossible.
Absurd.
But feeling her father there—
against her—
erased everything else.
— If you knew how much I missed you…
she breathed, pulling back slightly to look at him.
It feels impossible… but after everything that's happened these past few days… seeing you here… it feels so real…
Her voice broke slightly.
— And if this is only a dream…
she added in a whisper,
I'd rather not wake up.
She held him again.
Tighter.
As if letting go… might make him disappear.
He returned the embrace.
Without a word.
Without variation.
Without hesitation.
Time seemed to stretch.
A minute.
Maybe more.
Then—
— That's enough now, sweetheart.
His hand patted her back softly.
A familiar gesture.
Too mechanical.
Avery didn't notice.
— I'm so happy to see you again…
she said, wiping her tears.
— Me too.
He pressed his thumb beneath her eyes.
The gesture was precise.
Exact.
As if reproduced.
They finally separated.
Avery looked at him, eyes still wet.
— I'm so happy to see you again, in the flesh…
She gave a small smile.
Well… in a manner of speaking… since you're not really here…
— I am here, he answered immediately.
She shook her head gently.
— No… you're not really here.
— Who told you I wasn't?
His smile didn't move.
Always the same.
Always fixed.
— Dad… you're not here.
— Why would you say that?
he asked, in that teasing tone she knew so well.
Avery hesitated.
Her throat tightened.
— Because…
Her voice trembled.
— …you're d… dead.
The silence fell.
Heavy.
Wrong.
And on his lips—
that smile.
Still there.
But this time—
a little too slow to appear.
---