Dr. Adrian Vance adjusted the thin electrodes circling Evie Carter's temples, his hands moving with the precision of a surgeon. The lab was dimly lit, a deliberate choice to calm his patients, though it often left Adrian in a haze of exhaustion after long hours."Ready, Evie?" he asked, his voice calm, masking his excitement.The artist nodded nervously, her hands gripping the armrests of the recliner. "What if... I don't remember anything. What if it doesn't work?"Adrian smiled reassuringly. "You'll remember something. Even if it's small, we'll start there."The Neuro Regression Interface (NRI) hummed to life, a low, steady vibration filling the room. Adrian tapped a series of commands into the console. The screen displayed a cascade of neural patterns, lighting up like a storm as the system synced with Evie's brain activity."You might feel a little disoriented," Adrian said. "Focus on my voice. Picture yourself walking through a long hallway, doors on either side. When you see one that feels familiar, stop and open it."Evie nodded again, her breathing slowing as the machine guided her into a hypnotic state.Minutes I was ticked by. At first, her descriptions were vague: colours, sounds, a sense of floating. But then, her voice changed."There's... a courtyard," she said, her voice distant. "It's warm. The air smells of lavender. I can hear people talking—French, I think?"Adrian leaned forward, his pulse quickening. "What do you see?""A woman," Evie whispered. "She's... me, I think. But different. Darker hair. She's kneeling beside a child, wrapping his leg with a cloth."Adrian's fingers hovered over the console. "And the year? Can you sense what year it is?"Evie hesitated, her brows furrowing. "Twelve... Twelve thirty-something? No, thirty-two. The child's name is Pierre. He hurt himself on a broken wheel. His mother's—"Her voice broke off sharply. Adrian glanced at the monitors. Her neural activity spiked."What's happening, Evie?"Her breathing quickened, and her hands gripped the armrests tighter. "There's... someone watching. A figure. A shadow. It's standing at the edge of the courtyard."Adrian's heart skipped a beat. He'd seen this before—not the shadow, but the sudden leap in tension. Regression sessions often bring up traumatic memories."Focus on me, Evie," Adrian said firmly. "What does the figure look like?""It's wearing a hood," she whispered. "I can't see its face. But it's... it's been here before. I know it."Adrian frowned, jotting notes. "What do you mean, it's been here before?""It follows me," she said, her voice trembling. "It followed me here. It's always been there... in every dream, every life."A chill ran down Adrian's spine. "Evie, I will count to five and bring you back. Focus on my voice."He counted slowly, watching the monitors as her neural activity subsided. When her eyes fluttered open, she looked pale, her hands trembling."I've seen it before," she murmured, staring at him. "Not just in that life. In this one, too. I've drawn it."