Gently, I brushed the hair from his face. His skin was chalk-white, frozen in the agonized expression he'd worn when he died.
Identical to the brother in my memory.
"Don't... please..."
Tears streamed down my face. I traced along his unseeing eyes, past his cheek, behind his ear.
There, near the ear, a scabbed-over scar.
And behind it—a small, familiar bump.
The moment my fingers found it, a ringing flooded my ears and swallowed every other sound. All that remained was the hammering of my own heart and the ragged saw of my breathing.
The last shred of hope I'd been clinging to crumbled to dust.
It was a hereditary trait in our family.
Dad had it. My brother had it. So did I.
"How... that's impossible... it can't be..."
Tears poured down my face. My lips trembled around words that wouldn't form. I couldn't breathe.
I tried to check for other marks on his body.
But his arms were gone. His legs were gone.
"AHHH!"
I collapsed into the heap of corpses and screamed until my throat tore.
This was fake.
This had to be one of Muriel's schemes.
I had to get inside the Bastion.
I had to confirm my brother was alive with my own eyes.