Riley's pulse slowed as the reality of what the Toymaker said hit him. The crypt, the doppelgänger, the time loop—it wasn't real, at least not entirely. But the memories flooding back, the truth about Eleanor, felt undeniable.
His sister was dead.
The realization, like a sudden weight, settled into his chest, squeezing the breath from him. The memory of finding her, the blood, the emptiness—it all rushed back with terrifying clarity. But Riley could feel his mind fighting it, twisting the facts, trying to craft an illusion where she was still alive, still within reach.
He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched, battling the internal storm. Eleanor had taken her own life. But why? And why now, after so many trials, was the truth surfacing again?
"You're struggling, aren't you?" The Toymaker's voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Struggling to piece together what's real and what's not."
