The tree looms overhead, shading the entire area in twilight despite the star shining down. The grating sounds of a broken melody drift down from the branches overhead, accompanied by strange notes that seem to come from a stringed instrument. The sounds don’t have a sensible rhythm or progression, just like the humming, and together… they make something worse than either alone.

Shaded as the branches are in darkness, it’s impossible to see up into them, and with my Sanctum not allowing access to skills or Energy, I can’t just launch myself up there. I wince at the thought… not that I could use it correctly even if I had access to it. I turn my glare up toward where the ‘music’ is coming from and look around for a way up. In my searching, my eye catches the golden bracelet on my wrist. Technically, it shouldn’t work without Energy… but that’s not quite right. I have access to Energy, but entirely unenhanced by the system. Without that, it’s back to being barely there, and my recent internal turmoil has only made it worse.

I pull off the bracelet and slump against the tree, clasping the warm metal in my hands and willing it into a new shape. Something sharp, but easy to grip… a pair of ice picks, tethered to each other, but also to me. As I watch closely, the metal remains exactly as it was, and in the face of my steadily mounting frustration, I close my eyes and try to relax.

Thoughts plague me like sudden knives in the darkness. Memories of things I’ve done and could have done better… each time one rises unbidden from the sea of thoughts, my concentration is shattered. Each time, I push the thought down and earn myself only a brief respite.

Memories are a hard thing to deal with. Every dumb, regrettable thing I’ve ever done represents an opportunity to use the pain they instill to learn and grow. Never let it happen again, so that way there’s at least some meaning to the suffering you caused. Excuses don’t suppress the pain, resisting them only puts it off till later… and memories only grow more powerful the more you push them away. Especially the bad ones. They slowly twist your mind like a poison. Unlike poison, we don’t grow resistant to the damage, we just adapt to it… and when does a hateful ichor ever change something for the better?

Things we push away… we give them power in our resistance. The more you push, the stronger it moves towards you, and the stronger it will be the next time. You can’t kill something that’s a part of you without killing yourself, so you can only hope that you outpace it… But, one day, it will be stronger than you. It feeds off of you, after all. When it comes, you won’t be strong enough to push it away, and it will seat itself in your mind forever.

Is it not better to let it come early? When its strength is small compared with yours, and it hurts, but lacks the ability to truly harm you?

I want to separate the things that happened while I was… the other guy. To say ‘that was him, not me’ lets me keep my ego happy and my conscience almost satisfied.

But it’s wrong.

I failed, and I deserve to suffer. Letting the suffering of others create a worse monster would be spitting in the face of their sacrifice. I have to own it and be better.

The walls fall, and a torrent of self-recrimination and pain exult in driving their knives deep.

Long hours pass, and the pain slowly fades. The thoughts float around, devoid of real power. Giving them specific attention causes small pangs, but even embracing the memory only hurts a little.

With a deep breath, I open my eyes. The blades are crude and dull, and the handles sport lumps all along them, but the shape is there. I face the tree and start to climb.

---

The broken music seems to taunt me directly, as though the dark thing knows I’m coming and finds amusement in my struggling. Though my body has improved by leaps and bounds over the time since I’ve been in this alien world, without the system and its Primary Skills, the climb is arduous. I have to stop and rest over and over, making less progress with each attempt as my muscles grow more tired.

Still, I climb.

My hand slips, the handle soaked with sweat, and the metal strap digs painfully into my wrist.

I grit my teeth and pull myself further.

I reach a point where the wood grows more dense, and my ice picks won’t bite enough to hold my weight. Leaning back and surveying my surroundings, I see different colors in the wood just barely showing through the lack of light. Splotches where the wood might be soft enough for me to get a good hold… but they’re far apart.

I make sure my left pick is as sturdy as it can be, dislodge my right, and carefully swing toward the spot. The first strike leaves a pockmark, but skitters of with most of the force being at the wrong angle. My muscles burn, and the small failure feels all the more damning when I’m barely managing to move my arms anymore.

Again. My left pick slips as I swing for another attempt; the hold having been loosened by the last attempt. Squelching the horror that leaps up in my chest, I slam the right pick into my target with everything I have, and fall.

My arm jars painfully in the socket as my drop is abated by the ever vigilant straps, but I immediately feel warmth flowing down my arm: blood. The strap tore a chunk of skin, exposing tender flesh to the burning air. Twisting in agony, I bring my left pick to help and take a moment to rest.

I haven’t looked down in a while. With how strong the wind is up here, I’m sure I’ll lose my nerve if I do. One of the lower branches reaches from the trunk nearby: the likely location of my quarry. Again.

---

“Ah, quite the surprise! I was betting against you, you know. Then again, I was surprised to have you take the reigns again at all! You seemed so happy in you darkness, I’m surprised anything could rouse you.”

*Crunch* The final strike bites into the top of the branch, giving me just enough leverage to haul myself up and roll on my pack, panting. My own face stares down at me, the twisted representation of the shadow that haunts me. It has the same intonation I had, the same face, the same manic gleam... it's deeply unsettling.

“Nothing to say? Oh, do catch your breath. I’ve been waiting this long, what trouble could a few minutes more be?”

“You hurt *huff* my friend.”

“Oh, you must forgive me, but which one was that?” The twisted smile on its face tells a sinister story. “Come come, I know you mean Kaythe, but that you call the thing ‘friend’ amuses me! Is it not, in fact, your slave? Does it have any choice at all? Any mind of its own?”

“He knew what he was getting in to. We’re a team.”

“It didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. It saw you and saw food and safety, not eternal servitude. The same is true of Lauren; she was ready to kill you until your Energy convinced her otherwise. Now she follows you and doesn’t even understand why! Marvelous work, really-”

“Stop. There’s no point in you doing any of this. I’m fully aware that a lot of the things I’ve done are fucked up and unforgivable. We’ll leave your rap sheet unspoken for the sake of brevity. You can’t have control all the time. You’re destructive to a mindless degree, and you endanger our safety with reckless abandon and little forethought when you’re in charge. That, and you can’t form real connections with people to save your life, as though you don’t realize that those connections are all that have kept us alive. With that said, what do you want?”

A small chuckle followed by a discordant strum on the thing that could be a lute. “Maybe so. I’m surprised you don’t deal with me with force. Throw me from this place and delight in the distant sound as I hit the ground! But that isn’t your way, is it? You would rather talk. Very well, we shall.” He studies me, probing with his eyes as though looking for a weakness to exploit.

“Ahh… I won’t waste our time going through the motions. You expect me to ask for control, so you stated why you would not beforehand. Regardless, I want it, and I know how you can give it to me… a vessel!”

“...You want me to get you a body?”

“Or use one you already have. Kaythe would-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Mmm. Regardless, it must be a capable body. I will not accept som-”

“I said stop running your fucking mouth. You want me to carve you out and give you something to destroy with? No. I’d rather die. This shit you’re doing? Interfering with my Energy? It endangers us both, and where we’re headed now, I’m not going to die being tortured. There won’t be time for you to slip into control, I’ll just die. You can keep our Energy in this shitty, all strength state until it eventually kills us, or you can work with me. That’s the deal.”

“Without enjoyment, life has no meaning. Perhaps death will bring more excitement. Off with you, we have nothing more discuss.”

“I’m not done-”

“I am.” My body is too tired to move fast enough to stop him from kicking me over the side of the branch, and a desperate attempt to stop my fall with my pick only slides along the branch, refusing to get traction.

The wind howls in my ears. I know how this ends if I stick around.

I open my eyes to the cool night air. A light wind moves through the trees overhead.

“Kaythe, did I miss anything?”

Instead of the usual response, a low laughter echoes across our mental connection.

“You know, I actually didn’t need your permission at all!” Kaythe lunges at me, but disappears before he actually gets to me.

My Energy feels… normal again. No…

“What did you do with him?! Where is Kaythe?!”

“Ah… you can put me away, yes, but what if your companion is alive in here with me, and all I need to do is hunt it down again and again until nothing is left? Then what would you do?”

Without responding, I dive back into my Sanctum, searching wildly for Kaythe. Within minutes I find him wrapped around a tree, and my heart jumps: I got to him in time. But then I see the golden metal sticking out of him, pinning him there… the blood running down the trunk. He moves weakly, turning to look at me.

Unthinkingly, I rush over and tear out the spike, tossing it aside and cradling him in my arms. He’s been cut badly… my Energy can’t…

“P...redator?” Then he fades. Tears stream down my face as even the blood disappears. I can’t… I can’t let him do this. If he kills Kaythe enough, he’ll either get control or Kaythe will stop coming back.

That familiar laugh comes from behind me. “Just a touch too slow. What a shame.”

My sword flashes, singing as it cuts the very air between us. A light chill rolls off the blade where it’s stopped right at my lookalike’s neck. “Tut. Unfortunately, that sword is mine as much as yours.” Strain as I might, the blade won’t cut him. Giving me a wicked smile, he easily brushes off the blade, but hisses softly as the touch of metal tears a few pieces of skin off.

“Maybe not as much as you think.”

“You can’t stop me. I can spend as long as is required to best you. You have an outside world to tend to. Which will you choose, I wonder? Such a fascinating game!”

I can’t kill him to stop this. I’d be hurting myself too much. As much as I hate him, he is me, but I can’t let him destroy me either. I need a jail. Lethin.

I run off without a word, and the other yells some crude remark after me that I don’t bother listening to. Get to the tree, that’s all that matters.

Scratches cover my skin as branches and scrub, indifferent to my plight, exact the toll for moving carelessly past them.

“Lethin!”

She shoots to her feet, Kaythe cradled in her arms. “Oh thank god. Lethin, I need you to keep him safe!”

“Safe?”

“From me! No, something that looks like me! He kept you in a cell, right? Where is it?!”

“You did, yes. I destroyed it.”

“It wan’t- no, it doesn’t matter. Build it again, and if anyone comes and tries to take Kaythe, don’t kill him, but trap him in there! Or else... we’re all dead.”

“What?”

“Just do it! Even if it’s me! Kaythe, I’m sorry, I’ll fix this as soon as I can!”

With that, I open my eyes again. The empty night, a jarring departure from the chaos inside me.

[Congratulations! Feat of Will accomplished! +2 Will.]