It couldn’t be real. It was another Tremist illusion. That was the only explanation. His parents were dead, and even if his mother had escaped the First Attack, she wouldn’t be here in a laboratory under the Rhadgast school, in the company of a Fangborn. Mason didn’t run to her, and she didn’t run to him. They just stared at each other. Mason tried to recall images in his mind, memories of her when she was still alive. He remembered her saying goodbye, giving him a kiss on the cheek, then leaving. Only to pop back in a moment later, say “I love you,” and smile. That was the last time he saw her. April Stark had died that day. And yet here she was. “Mom,” Mason said. His mother was crying. She kneeled next to the broken beaker and began to scoop the pieces into her hand. Mason’s knees felt like they’d been replaced with water balloons, ready to burst at any moment and stop holding him up. It could be a Tremist trick. How else did you get in this room? “I know you’re not real,”
