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Ellie wondered what must be growing—building—inside of something that had gorged itself on countless hundreds of lives.

Ellie’s dreams were big. They were dangerous.

The bigger the dream, the greater the sacrifice.

What would Ellie be willing to sacrifice to pay for her big, dangerous dreams?

The thought of it tore the fantasy away with a sick lurch in her gut—and suddenly she was not in the washroom at the Rio Nuevo anymore.

Ellie knelt beside Ixb’ahjun on a surface of black glass as flawless and dark as a starless night. The cave arched over her head. Stalactites were illuminated by the glare of the paraffin lamps.

Jacobs must have slipped from Adam’s grasp. Adam was grappling with Staines now, wrestling him for the Winchester. They were frozen like flies in amber except that their movements slowly, almost imperceptibly, continued to shift.

Padre Kuyoc walked toward the water at the back of the cave. Instead of rushing, the stream undulated, slow and graceful as the shifting of summer clouds. His hands were raised and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling as a dark, self-aware humor twisted his lip.

Dawson’s mouth was open in a silent, aggravated protest as his hands waved slowly in the air at everyone around him—at the priest, and at Buller and Price as they swung their rifles into place.

Pacheco held a hammer mid-blow over the nearly completed crate.

Charlie and Lessard were caught in the middle of exchanging a grim, determined glance.

Then there was Jacobs.

He stood two steps from where Ellie herself slumped across the surface of the mirror. Smoke still hissed up in slow, thin curls from where her bleeding arm met the surface. Jacobs’ gaze fixed on her with sharp intention. He held a knife ready in one hand as the other reached for her, inch by painstaking inch.

“Why are we back here?” Ellie asked.

The answer crept up from inside Ellie’s heart even as Ixb’ahjun answered.

“Your desire is changing,” she said.

Ixb’ahjun gently took hold of Ellie’s hands. The blood from Ellie’s wound stained Ixb’ahjun’s skin where their fingers intertwined.

“Tell me what you want,” Ixb’ahjun ordered.

Ellie fought for the answer through the tumult of conflicted emotion inside of her. “I… I can’t let them have it. I need to… Imust…”

“Feel it,” Ixb’ahjun prompted urgently. “Shape it in your heart.”

The other Ellie—the one collapsed on the mirror—stirred. The hand of her injured arm clenched reflexively.

Ixb’ahjun flickered. The motion in the cavern lurched dangerously forward for the space of a breath.

The Winchester flew from Staines’s hands into a shadowy field of stalagmites as Adam shouted in protest.

Jacobs’ hand moved closer to Ellie’s neck.

What I want… What I want… What I want…

Ellie’s dreams cried out in protest—sand rippling through her fingers, the silence of a rapt and respectful lecture hall.

A cry of victory in the embrace of her sisters-in-arms.

She remembered the bones that lay under her feet—that terrible, forgotten mountain of the dead.

“I have to destroy it,” Ellie said as the truth dawned over her, both terrible and undeniable.

Ellie’s resolution firmed.