A surprisingly cool night wind brushes against my bare legs as I stare disbelievingly at the doppelganger standing right in front of me. The long hair of the wig I'm wearing brushes against my cheeks, as fat raindrops begin to drizzle down, slapping against the concrete surface of the canal. The doppelganger sighs in relief, turning his face upward to catch the full force of the rain. He then wipes his face vigorously with a sleeve of that ratty looking robe, cleaning off a good bit of the accumulated grime.

The wanted posters, the gendarme hunting me the moment I entered Deshawn City and Henrik outright trying to kill me. Its all because of this guy. The twin I never knew I had. The Midnight Stabber. But the question that burns at me the most has still been left unanswered.

"Who are you?" I demand angrily, pointing my sword directly at the Stabber.

"Isn't it obvious?" the Stabber laughs, tapping the flat of his weapon's blade, "I'm Mac Nair."

"Bullshit." I snort, "You're not me."

"Obviously." the Stabber chuckles, "But it doesn't change the fact that I am Mac Nair."

"Stop using my name, you liar!" I snap, swinging the sword about in a fury.

"Mac Nair is my name." the Stabber frowns, "To be honest, I didn't know about your existence until just now. I was actually hunting the owner of the house you burgled."

"What? Why in the world do you want to kill Ramon?" I jump in surprise. I had thought the townhouse was a safe refuge, but it had drawn the Midnight Stabber right to me. This just keeps getting better, doesn't it?

"Need to tie up loose ends." the Stabber shrugs, "I got a bit over confident, attacking a pair at once. One of my targets got away and I tracked him here. That's all."

"Guy," I gasp at how forthcoming this deranged killer is, "you're talking about when you killed Guy, aren't you?"

"Is that the civil mage's name?" the Stabber asks, "If so, then yes, he was my main target. I thought I could get Guy's companion as well, but that fellow was a slippery one."

"And now you're trying to murder me as well?" I narrow my eyes, getting into the ready position.

"Wrong place, wrong time." the Stabber gives an easy smile, "Sorry for your luck."

I can feel the air around us getting charged with the magical energy we are radiating. A heat haze begins to rise from the thin film of water gathered on the base of the canal. The Stabber tightens his grip on the short sword while moving into a crouch, his entire body tensed and coiled like a spring.

"Ready when you are." the Stabber invites.

"One more question." I scowl, moving my feet apart for a more solid stance, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why?" the Stabber raises an eyebrow, "Isn't it obvious?"

"No. It really isn't." my mouth quirks to the side and the outrageousness of the murderer's statement, "The need to kill randos in the middle of the night eludes me, truly."

"Don't patronize me." the Stabber scowls in irritation, "I do it to become stronger."

"Killing random people makes you stronger." I deadpan, realizing I'm talking to a lunatic, "OK. Its all clear to me now."

"I SAID DON'T PATRONIZE ME!" the Stabber roars, his voice echoing into the night. An awkward silence settles between us.

"Its not for me." the Stabber continues, getting his temper under control, "I need to get stronger to save Mary. She's been suffering all these years."

"Mary." I mutter, a headache starting to build behind my temples.

"I couldn't save her all those years ago," the Stabber snarls, spittle flying from his mouth, "And when I managed to find Mary -"

Mary.

A crawling sensation runs up the base of my skull, like a centipede running wild underneath my skin. The discomfort causes my eyes to water and I blink the tears away.

"- I ran away again, even after she begged -" the Stabber sobs incoherently.

Mary.

"- just like I ran when Springvale burned to the ground!" an anguished howl sends my mind spinning into gear.

Springvale.

Mary.

And the connection is finally made.

"I put flowers in Mary's hair." I mumble, the haze of forgetfulness clearing, "I left her behind when I came to Deshawn City to study the Academy."

"I left Mary behind." the Stabber whispers to himself.

"I left my childhood friend behind." I mutter, my brain dredging up a mostly forgotten memory, "Mary."

But Mary's fine. Springvale never burned to the ground. She's probably fat and married at this point.

"MARY'S NOT FINE!" the Stabber shouts after I had inadvertently said my thoughts out loud, "THE KING OF THE MOUNTAIN TOOK HER!"

"Look calm down," I say, more for my own benefit than to reassure the Stabber, "I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm from Springvale as well."

The Stabber looks at me dubiously, his hands shaking with agitation.

"I never heard about Springvale burning, or getting attacked." I continue, "The Order of Impartial Justice stormed the King of the Mountain's fort years ago. That pack of bandits were taken out."

Yes, that's right. Springvale had always lived under the threat of the King of the Mountain, a self proclaimed bandit lord who had his base nearby. Children, including myself, would be warned by their parents that if we were naughty, the King of the Mountain would show up to snatch us away. But the so called King must have stepped on one too many toes and someone finally commissioned the Order to deal with him permanently. I remember this event so clearly because there was a huge celebration in Springvale when the news reached us. It was just before I left for Deshawn City in fact.

So in short, the Stabber was spouting a pile of unadulterated, deluded crap. He might not even be human for that matter. A monster dispatched to impersonate and destroy me. And guess who has ready access to monsters?

Mills.

Mills gets his henchman Mandor to kill me at the dig site, allowing this impersonator to freely act out in Deshawn City. No one would know the difference, since I would never be returning from the Beyond after that final mission for Mills. I have no idea whether the monster confronting me is merely pretending or genuinely believes that ridiculous cover story, but at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. I need to take the Stabber out to prove my innocence.

The Stabber's eyes bulge out of their sockets, completely bloodshot and his face morphs into a savage rictus grin. But the tears keep streaming down those dirty cheeks.

"Full marks for staying in character," I scoff, "but you're not fooling anybody. What kind of monster are you? A shapeshifter? Maybe an actual demon?"

One of the Stabber's hands flicks outward, and a throwing knife is sent flying my way. My sword pulls upward to perform a flawless block, sending the knife ricocheting away into the darkness. The Stabber attempts to follow up by rushing me, but I bring my sword down in a doublehanded swing, forcing the doppelganger to quickly back off.

If the Stabber's a shapeshifter, it would also mean that at the very least, I'm squaring off against a powerful monster. More powerful than the goblins I'm used to fighting at least. Things might get ugly. Scratch that, things were certain to get ugly. But I'm a sword master, fighting monsters is something that I've been trained to do. And its something I've already been doing for years.

"Let's do this!" I challenge while charging forward, my spirit lifting at the thrill of combat.

My sword parts the air in front of me as the Stabber performs an evasive flip over my head. His weapon snakes treacherously toward my side, but I pivot about, my sword swinging in a broad arc that deflects the incoming attack. Our weapons lock and as we surge our magic, I quickly get the better of the Stabber, dashing him backward and breaking the clinch.

As my opponent skids away, his knees bend, and the Stabber rebounds at me like a rubber band that has been snapped back. He scores a solid tackle against me but before he can raise his blade to land a strike, my free hand grabs the folds of the Stabber's filthy robe and with a great heave, I send him flying into the wall of the canal.

The Stabber's body twists, easily seizing control of his own momentum, landing feet first on the wall I had thrown him into before kicking right off it in the space of a single heartbeat. I duck under the incoming lunge and the Stabber hits the ground, sending water splashing as he rolls back to his feet.

An inconclusive exchange. But both sides still have plenty of fight left in us.

During happier days, Christina claimed to me that she became a magic knight because of the romance. And now facing me is an unknown opponent, a deadly conspiracy and a city out for my blood. Something only a hero from the old tales would experience and a far cry from the daily drudgery I have come to accept as part of my life.

Tonight, no matter what happens, I've discovered that romance Christina spoke of, in this duel fought under the night sky.