Amelia

I woke up to the sound of chirping birds and fluttering paper. I sat up slowly as I stretched my arms. I was starting to get really uncomfortable sleeping on a bag of hay. “Note to self: invent mattresses.” I suddenly stopped as I realized a new noise accompanied the usual morning birds. I turned towards the car as a gruff voice floated alongside the sounds of shifting paper. I couldn't make out any words, but they sounded aggravated. I rose from the bed and pulled on a T-shirt as I cautiously made my way over. Dexter's voice slowly became clearer as I rounded the car. “One-Twelve, useless. Seventy-three? Weak. Twenty-five? Not even worth looking at.” I peeked around the edge as Dexter continued to ramble. He was hunched over the spellbook, flipping rapidly through the pages.

I stepped out from behind the car as I swallowed nervously. “Dexter?” I asked cautiously. Dexter spun around wildly. His face briefly held a fearful expression before adopting one of relief.

He let out a sigh as he brought his hand to his head. “You scared me.” He gasped, relieved. His face quickly hardened as he appeared to realize something. “I didn't wake you, did I?” He asked as he turned to me nervously.

I stared at him a little apprehensively. “No, the birds did that,” I lied, slowly walking over. Dexter grinned in relief and nodded as he turned and squinted back at the book, much slower in his search this time. I approached him slowly as I realized his back was rising and falling quickly, panting as his brow was once again graced with sweat. I swallowed nervously as I stopped beside him. “What are you doing up so early?” I pressed.

Dexter’s expression change to one of guilt as he paused for a second. “I'm . . uh . . trying to see if something comes to mind when I read these spells.” He replied dismissively. “I thought I would able to think of a way to improve them, but so far nothing comes to mind.” I nodded slightly as I glanced over and saw he had a binder open. It was filled with frantic scribbles and malformed equations.

I leaned over slightly as my brow furrowed and tried to read his monstrous penmanship. “What's that?” I inquired, reaching over.

Dexter quickly slammed the binder shut as he cleared his throat. “That's . . umm . . just some extra equations I thought might help me.” He stammered. “They haven't led to anything though. So, I've just been trying to find another spell to experiment with.” I continued to stare at him as he finished his explanation. His eyes deliberately avoided mine as he busied himself with the book again. His face was contorted slightly into a more neutral expression, making his mood appear forced.

I placed my hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly. “I'm here if you need to talk,” I assured him gently.

Dexter was silent for a minute as he took a deep breath, his face unchanging. “I know that.” He finally replied calmly. “I just don't have anything to talk about right now. I’d rather be left on my own, to be honest.” I continued to stare at him as he refused to meet my gaze.

I let out a sigh as I finally turned away. “Just don't do anything reckless.” I insisted. “I don't want to come back from my bath and find out you blew up half of the barn learning a new spell.”

Dexter almost nervously waved me off as I walked over to the box of clothes. “I'll make sure nothing like that happens.” He replied quickly. I reached into the box and pulled out one of the few sets of clothes left. I looked into the near-empty box as a new problem rose to mind.

I turned to Dexter as I set the box back on the table. “You might as well learn that WaterJet spell,” I suggested, moving towards the door. “We'll have to wash these clothes sooner or later. It's better to do it before we start wearing things twice.”

Dexter nodded quickly as he continued to squint at the pages. I saw a drop of sweat fall from his brow as he seemed to wince. “I'll think about it.” He assured me. “Just go and enjoy your bath.” I stared at him as I slowly passed. His eyes flicked across the page rapidly as he read. I finally let out a long sigh as I walked through the door and started heading down the hill. “Looks like I just caught him in the middle of grieving again. Of course, he's still grieving. It's always grief with him.” I thought, beginning my trek towards the bathhouse. “It might take several weeks before he's finally stabilized. In the meantime, he'll probably be planning a method of attack against that bastard elf. I can’t say I blame him. He had a heavy hand in ending Shel. He can't prepare for the rite if he's distracted by him. I'll have to think of a way to get him back on track.” I let out a sigh and looked back up as I continued to walk down the street. The morning sun had barely left the horizon, giving the city a comforting glow. I glanced over as I smelled freshly cut wood. A team of orcs was rebuilding one of the destroyed homes; lifting posts and planks into place as others nailed them down. One of them noticed my gaze and waved at me. I waved back as I let a smile creep onto my face. “At least they're not glaring daggers at us anymore.” I looked around as I noticed other teams working on other houses; each of them in various stages of construction. The old wood hand long been hauled away, leaving vacant lots that were quickly being filled with homes again. I continued to gaze at the buildings as I walked through the street. A few others waved towards me as I passed. I waved back, happy that I'd finally found some friendly faces. “It's not this everywhere.” I reminded myself. “If there are other tribes, they might not even give me the courtesy of speaking; they'd just kill me.” I turned back down the street as I moved past the construction areas. “Those can be handled later. Right now, Dexter has a rite to complete.”

After several minutes of walking, I finally arrived at the bathhouse. I faltered as I entered and saw it practically filled with orcs. “It's been a week since the battle; I thought it would've returned to normal by now.” I slowly walked over a more secluded corner of the bath and gently sank in. I let my head sink back as I tried to piece together an official plan. “I'm pretty sure Dexter has abandoned the idea of an escape. Magic is too valuable to him to run away. Plus, the orcs might be able to help with his new goal, vengeance. So, all that leaves are the steps he's willing to take to meet that goal.” I continued to stare off as scenarios drifted through my mind; industry, invention, materials, armor, weapons, battles, war. The list went on and on. My stomach churned as I envisioned the bloodshed a war with the elves might incur. I hate that bastard elf, but I still couldn't stand to even think of the blood necessary to bring him down. My internal conflict was suddenly interrupted when an orc lowered herself into the water beside me. I instinctively brought my arm up to cover my chest.

She stared ahead bleary-eyed as she voiced a monotone greeting. “Morning.” She growled sluggishly. I turned to look at her. She was only a little taller than me, her brown hair swayed gently in the water as she leaned her head back. I suddenly realized how clean she was already. It looked as if hardly a day had gone by since her last bath. I looked around at the other orcs as a realization slowly dawned on me.

I turned back to the orc next to me. “There sure are a lot of people here today.” I probed cautiously.

The orc nodded slowly. “It is because of the outsiders.” She replied sleepily, pointing towards the exit. “They are said to visit the bathhouse daily. There is a rumor in the northern district that the water is supposed to ward off illness.”

My eyes went wide as I heard her explanation. She didn't even seem to realize who was sitting next to her. “Is it true?” I asked carefully, feeling myself grin from the absurdity of the situation. “Can water really do that?”

The orc let out a yawn as he shrugged. “Sard if I know.” She sighed. “I just know that my sister fell ill, and I wish to avoid meeting the same fate.”

I grinned slightly as I shifted in the water. “If you really want to avoid getting sick, you should scrub your hands in a bucket of water a few times every day. It’ll help keep you clean and further ward off the illnesses.”

The orc scrunched up her face at that suggestion. “What? Why would th-” She asked skeptically, turning to me. She suddenly stopped, and her hazel eyes went wide as she saw me grinning at her. “Fext, I did not realize I was sat next to you.” She gasped, rubbing her eyes. “I must be truly exhausted then.”

I continued to grin as I turned back to the bathhouse. The other orcs seemed to be busy with their own conversations, taking no notice of my presence. “So, is everyone here because of that rumor?” I suddenly asked.

The orc turned towards the others and yawned as she seemed to consider my query. “Haaa. Perhaps.” She finally answered. “I cannot speak for all of them, but that is why I am here.” I nodded again, choosing to let the silence hang in the air. I let out a relaxing sigh as I continued to soak in the bathwater. The chatter of conversation droned on in the background as thoughts drifted through my mind. “Just a rumor was able to do all of this? I guess they're more superstitious than I thought. All it took for some of them was to hear a rumor. Although, humans aren't much better. Some of us can be fooled by flat out lies. But this could still work in our favor. We'd just have to convince enough of them of the benefits of proper hygiene.”

I turned back to the orcs next to me. “That scrubbing will help though,” I told her. “You might not understand it, but it'll reduce your chances of getting infected.”

The orc tilted her head slightly as she seemed to consider. “I shall take that under advisement.” She finally replied. “Gods know that I will need all the help I can get.” I nodded as I turned back to the bath and let myself sink back into a state of relaxation.

I trekked back to the barn as the morning sun slowly dried me off. I usually timed it right to give me about half an hour of leisure time before Bulak or Brokil arrived, but this time I'd spent extra time conversing with the orc next to me. I hesitated as I approached the barn and heard a muffled struggle within. Dexter's voice filtered through the boards as he acted out another catharsis. I quickly closed the gap between me and the door and threw it open. The mess inside was astronomical. Tables were flipped, chairs were thrown, another one even sat broken against one wall. Dexter stood, furiously scribbling in his binder as he rambled angrily at himself. “I Don't Care What You Think. I'm Going To Do What Needs To Be Done.”

I stared in shock as Dexter slammed the binder closed and threw it into a backpack. I slammed the door closed behind me as I began stomping his way. “Dexter!” I shouted. Dexter turned to glare angrily at me, throwing the pack over his shoulder. I threw my hands up in exasperation as I met his heated gaze. “What Are You Doing? I'm Gone For An Hour And, What, You're Packing Up?”

Dexter scoffed angrily and began walking towards the door. “Damn Right, Almar Isn't Going To Kill Himself.”

I grabbed his arm as he walked past, forcing him to stop and turn to me. “What exactly is your plan?” I asked angrily. “You can't just march up to Nione and take the city. They have an army of elves.”

Dexter scowled and pulled away as he growled in anger. “Now Your Starting To Sound Like Him We'll Be Fine. I'll Just Make It Up As I Go.”

I stared open-mouthed at him as Dexter turned to walk away. “What About Magic?” I asked, beginning to follow him. “You still haven't solved your issues with casting.”

Dexter quickly turned around and gestured angrily, causing a rapidly flickering ball of light to appear in his palm. I had to turn away as the pulsating light assaulted my eyes, briefly blinding me. “I'm Fine.” I heard him growl. “We Don't Need To Waste Any More Time Here.” The pulsating light faded and I heard Dexter continue to move towards the door.

I turned back to him as I squinted through my blinded eyes. “That's not better.” I protested. Dexter ignored me and pulled open the door, his hand still gripping the handle. I quickly rushed up to him as he stared at the hill outside. “What about the other spells? What about the rite?”

Dexter jabbed his finger at the backpack as he walked. “We've Got The Spellbook, I'll Figure Something Out.” He retorted angrily. “The Rite Isn't Going To Get Me To Almar Fast Enough Anyway.”

I shook my head vigorously as I cradled my head in my hands. “What is the matter with you?” I asked desperately, looking up at him angrily. “You weren't this impatient yesterday.”

Dexter turned to glare at me, his right eyes clenched shut in pain. “Because My Counterpart Is Too Much Of A Coward To Do What Needs To Be Done.” He barked furiously. “I'm Going To End That Fucking Bastard. Now Get Out Of My Fucking Way.” I faltered as I suddenly registered what he was saying. At my hesitation. Dexter turned to step out of the barn but suddenly stopped as his right arm tensed. I turned to see Dexter's right hand tightly gripping the door frame. “Speak Of The Fucking Devil,” Dexter growled, bringing his left arm over to the offending hand.

I watched in stunned amazement as Dexter tried to rip his own hand away from the post. “Dexter, what the Fuck is going on?” I shouted in frustration. “I thought you were better. I thought you said you didn't have D.I.D..”

I watched Dexter struggle as he started muttering to himself. “Let Go, You're Only Making This Harder.” Dexter’s head suddenly rolled on his neck and his expression shifted to one of desperation. “That's the point. We can't do this without help.”

I walked over as Dexter continued to squirm in place, his hand refusing to budge. “Dexter,” I demanded firmly. “Tell me what the hell is going on.” He turned quickly to me and I took a step back. His face was contorted down the middle; his left half displayed pure rage, while his right half held an expression of desperation.

His desperation briefly overtook his rage as he stared at me. “Help me!” He cried. He suddenly tilted his head back as the rage replaced the desperation. “Leave Me Alone!” He roared. He began flipping back and forth between the two expressions as he continued to struggle. I closed the gap between us and grabbed his arm. He turned to glare at me with that unnerving half-formed expression.

I felt tears of fear welling up in my eyes as I gripped his forearm. “Tell Me The Problem,” I begged.

Dexter tilted his head back and I heard several joints pop. “NNNNNOOOOO!” He roared, finally ripping his hand free. He hunched over, panting, as he continued to grip the offending hand. I backed up slightly as Dexter turned to glare at me again, this time completely overrun by rage. “I Don't Need Your Help!” He spat poignantly. He turned and walked out the door, still cradling his rogue limb. “I Can Do This Myself.”

I quickly followed as I tried to reason with him. “No, you're in absolutely no shape to take on Almar. You can barely cast a spell, you have no weapons, and you have no idea where Nione is.”

Dexter gestured dismissively as he continued to walk. “I'll Figure It Out!” Dexter barked back. “I Don't Need Anyone Else Reminding Me Of That Bullshit!”

I rushed to walk beside him as I gestured pleadingly. “What exactly is your plan? Wander the area until you find the city.”

Dexter suddenly stopped and turned towards me angrily as he glared at me. “I'll Figure It Out.” He roared. “I Don't Need Anyone Else.” I stood in stunned silence as Dexter turned and continued walking.

I suddenly saw movement in front of Dexter and spotted Bulak, walking towards us with a confused expression on her face. “What is the damage here?” She asked, stepping in front of Dexter. “Why do you have that satchel on your back and why do your eyes burn with fire?” Dexter just glared at her as he tried to move around, but Bulak blocked him again. She now had a hesitant expression about her. “What are your intentions?” She asked deliberately.

Dexter let out a low growl as he continued to grip his other hand. “I'm Going To Kick That Fucking Elf's Ass.” He spat angrily.

Bulak glanced up at me as she heard Dexter's explanation. I gave her a pleading expression as I gesture towards Dexter. Her expression hardened as she saw my desperation. “And what of the rite?” She asked, turning back to Dexter. “Surely we could be of use to your goal of destroying Almar. Do you not wish for our help in that endeavor?”

Dexter scoffed as he gestured dismissively. “That's Too Slow For My Taste.” He spat. “I Need Results Now, And You're Not Offering Anything I Want.” He suddenly glared at Bulak as something seemed to dawn on him. He took a step closer, challenging her. “Do You Intend To Stop Me?” An expression of anger crossed Bulak's face as Dexter glared at her. What happened next was over in an instant. Bulak brought her clenched fist into Dexter's face; causing him to real back and fall over, unconscious.

I quickly rushed over as Bulak let out an exasperated sigh. “What the sard happened?” She asked as I crouched and examined Dexter's unconscious body. A bruise was forming on his cheek and his glasses were skewed to the side.

I brushed his hair aside as I pressed the back of my head to his forehead. His brow burned like a fire and a thin film of sweat coated his skin. “I have no idea,” I admitted helplessly, wiping Dexter’s brow. “He just started acting like this today. I think something is wrong with him.” I took his glasses and pried open one of his eyes as Bulak knelt beside me, her face shifting to one of concern. Dexter’s hazel pupil was dilated and unfocused, signs of unconsciousness. “He might be developing multiple personalities, but not all the symptoms are there. He'd have additional behavioral issues. Plus, this isn't any D.I.D. I've heard of.”

Bulak tilted her head sternly as she watched me examine Dexter. “Do outsiders commonly possess such ailments?” She asked curiously.

I shook my head, feeling a sense of helplessness well up within me. “It's rare, even among us, and it's typically caused by trauma, but I don't think that's what's going on.” I brought my hand to my head as I finished examining Dexter. “I just don't know what to do right now.”

Bulak was silent for a minute as she seemed to think. She then leaned over to pick up Dexter, her face filling with determination. “We should consult Garahk about this.” She stated, lifting Dexter to drape him over her shoulders. His backpack flopped off as he was turned upside down.

I reached down and picked up the discarded pack as Bulak started moving back down the hill. “Do you think she'll be able to help?” I asked as I started following her, pulling the pack over my shoulder.

Bulak nodded as she adjusted Dexter on her shoulder, grunting slightly as his weight. “Garahk is skilled in the mystic arts. She may be able to glean the truth of this event.” I let out a desperate groan as we made our way towards Garahk's Institute. The orcs were giving us strange glances as we passed. The glances slowly turned into contempt as we moved out away from the Northern District. A few even spat in our direction. I hastened our pace as I felt a sense of unease walking through this part of the city. Dexter groaned slightly as we made our way to the Institute.

I turned to Bulak as we walked. “What’s going to happen to him?” I asked hesitantly.

Bulak hefted Dexter slightly as she adjusted him on her shoulder. “It depends on his ailment. If it is physical then there may be no hope. If it is magical . . . .” She paused as she seemed to scowl concernedly. “I am certain Garahk will be able to mitigate the damages,” Bulak assured me, almost trying to assure herself.

I let out a groan of desperation as we got closer to the Institute. “I hope you’re right,” I growled softly.

Bulak hefted again as she pointed towards the horizon. “Do not concern yourself too much. These events are out of your control.” I nodded as we finally spotted the Institute in the distance. Bulak and I quickened our pace and hurried through the gate. I rushed ahead to open the door for Bulak but it opened of its own accord. Brokil stepped out, head buried in a book, as he pushed the door open from within.

He only looked up when Bulak's footfalls radiated up the steps. An expression of confusion crossed his face as he spotted Dexter draped over Bulak's shoulder. “What has happened?” He asked curiously.

Bulak panted and adjusted Dexter onto her shoulder again as she replied. “Dexter has had an incident and we require Garahk to determine the cause.” She explained, moving past him and into the Institution.

I nodded as I followed her inside. “He almost tried to leave the city. I was lucky Bulak arrived to stop him.” I faltered as I stepped within the threshold and looked around as the bright morning light was replaced by the darker interior of the building. We stood in a sort of long entrance hall, glowing blue orbs gently floating through the air. Several small tables were lined along the sides of the room and were carrying various mystic looking items; globes, pendants, staves, and innumerable other knickknacks. A circular stairway at the back wall led up to a common area seeming filled with couches and furniture. Brokil moved past us and through a doorway as Bulak lifted one of the staves off a particularly long table.

She set Dexter on the now empty table and turned to me. “Has Dexter done anything of note before today?”

I shook my head as I walked over. “He just exploded today. Before, I had suspicions that something else was going on, but I chalked it up to stress and grief from the battle.”

Bulak nodded as she turned back to Dexter. “It is a good theory, but I suspect the former to be true.” I turned to the doorway Brokil had disappeared through as Garahk suddenly emerged. Her staff went clacking on the floor beside her as she walked over, quickly followed by Brokil.

She gestured at the prostate Dexter as she stopped beside us. “Speak, what happened? Why is the outsider here in this state?” Garahk demanded as she began examining Dexter.

Bulak leaned concernedly towards Garahk as she began explaining. “I was traveling to the barn to continue his lessons when he emerged, wearing that satchel on his back. He and Amelia appeared to be arguing over a certain matter. When I inquired of the issue, he stated his desire to destroy Almar and Adympia. He then threatened me in a most obtuse manner. I responded by incapacitating him. Amelia may be able to tell you more.” Garahk turned to me as Bulak finished speaking.

I thought nervously back on the series of events. I could now see the red flags as clear as day, obvious signs of his current outcome. I began recounting them as I shifted nervously. “I came back from a bath and he was writing furiously in one of the binders in here. When I confronted him he just exploded.” I looked down at Dexter as he let out a low groan. I held up my hand vertical to my face as I continued. “He seemed to be arguing with himself. It went as far as to have each half of his face divided by the emotions they displayed. It was super creepy to witness.”

Garahk let out a low hum as she turned back to Dexter. “Intriguing.” She sighed. “That does not bode well for his mentality. Give me a moment. I require concentration.” She directing her staff towards Dexter's head as she began speaking in the arcane tongue indicative of spell. The amethyst glowed softly as Dexter grunted again, his eyes squinting in pain. After a few moments, the glow died and Garahk let out a stunned breath. “Good gods.” She gasped.

Bulak turned to Garahk as she stared at Dexter in stunned silence. “What is it? Have you discovered his ailment?” She asked curiously. Garahk didn't reply at first. She just raised her head slightly as she stared off.

I folded my hands together pleadingly. “Please tell me you know how to fix it.” Garahk was silent for another moment as she thought deeply.

Garahk suddenly turned to Brokil and gestured deliberately. “Fetch my alchemical supplies, a jar of vampiric dust, a bag of trolls' teeth, the jar of cave fungus, and bring them to the ritual room.” Brokil nodded as he turned and disappeared back through the doorway. Garahk suddenly looked up at the upstairs at two female orcs I hadn't noticed before. They wore fluffy green and yellow shawls, brown hair draped to their shoulders. “Yotul, Nargol, come down here and carry him into the ritual room. I require a focus.” The two of them nodded as they rushed towards the spiral stairs.

Bulak suddenly grabbed Garahk shoulder and gave her an almost pleading expression. “What is ailing him?” She asked in earnest.

Garahk seemed to think for a minute. She finally replied once the two orcs arrived and worked together to carry Dexter through another doorway. Garahk followed them and began talking as we trailed behind. “I fear that an offending spell is bringing this affliction upon Dexter.” She admitted. “I may be able to remove the enchantment, but I cannot guarantee success.” We walked through another doorway and began moving down a set of stairs. The wooden walls were suddenly replaced by damp stone and mortar. The floors also changed from the softwood to cold hard stone. Garahk's staff echoed along the walls as we descended. “I need time to prepare the spell. You two will need to restrain him until then.” The two orcs nodded as the stairway finally level out and we emerged into a sort of dungeon filled with vials, tables, and cauldrons. A few orcs were already there, standing over cauldrons of various steaming substances. “I may require your help,” Garahk advised, gesturing at them as we passed. The orcs just stared in shock as we walked through another doorway into a room filled with candles, tables, and chairs. There were recesses in the wall, filled with old and empty metal implements. The center of the room was dominated by a seven-foot-wide circular area composed of dirt. Black metal staves surrounded the pit in equal spacing, designed with monstrous and jagged spikes that pointed upwards. Garahk moved over to one of the tables as the two orcs set Dexter in a chair and began tying him down. I set his backpack near the door as I joined them.

Bulak stepped beside Garahk as she gestured at Dexter. “What, precisely, is ailing with him?” She demanded. “You have revealed this is the work of magic, but you still have not told us what is ailing him.”

Garahk let out a nervous sigh as she glanced at Dexter. “His mind is being damaged.” She finally admitted, gesturing with one of her hands. A dark spherical object materialized above the table. “It is time you learned of cerebration. Under normal circumstances, a conscious mind can be represented as such; the dark areas are inaccessible or hidden portions of being. The bright spot is his consciousness.” She suddenly turned the sphere to reveal a small white dot on the surface of the object, barely the size of a dime on the basketball-sized surface she was displaying. “During rest, the bright areas expand, allowing inaccessible portions of the consciousness to be utilized. This access is likely the origin of dreams, unconscious aspects of the mind seeping into a person’s consciousness.” The dot gradually expanded and enveloped the darkness, growing to the size of my palm before stopping. “There is a reason, however, that this is so. Just as our consciousness can grow and change, so to can it be harmed or damaged.” Grey spots suddenly appeared on the light surfaces, resembling lunar craters common with our own terrestrial satellite. “Damage to the mind can be seen as small depressions on the surface.” She explained. “If the damage is too great, there can be an adverse effect on the psyche.”

Bulak suddenly gestured impatiently at the sphere. “We do not require the whole lecture. What does this mean for Dexter?” She asked impatiently.

Garahk let out a defeated sigh, then gestured at the sphere again.“This is what appeared when I probed Dexter's mind, a vision most disturbing.” The sphere suddenly grew brighter as the light continued to expand, almost completely enveloping it. A large crack appeared and grew down the center as the light peeled into the blackened object. I let in a shocked gasp and brought my hand to my mouth as I watched pieces break off and drift out from the sphere. “It is damage, unlike anything I have seen before. I can only assume this was caused by a spell causing deliberate damage. The spell was purposefully designed to do this.”

Bulak let out an angered growl as she stared at the sphere, her fists clenching in front of her. “Who would . . could . . have done this?” She asked angrily.

Garahk let out a thoughtful hum as she stared at the damaged moon she was showing. “To my knowledge, none in Snakhagr, but we must not think of that now. His ailment must be repaired post-haste, lest I fear it becomes a permanent facet of his being.” Brokil suddenly entered, carrying a small wooden case in one hand and several glass jars. He set them in front of Garahk as she released her spell and the sphere dissipated. “I must remove any magic attacking his mind before the damage become irreversible.” She stated firmly. She began opening several jars and pulled out a cauldron from a recess in the wall. “I can modify a spell I already know, but I will need a medium to amplify it. Damage such as this will be difficult to undo.” She threw a handful of ingredients into the cauldron as Dexter stirred slightly. Garahk glanced over at him before turning back to her cauldron. “It shall take me a few moments to create the medium; ensure that he does not break free of those bonds.” Bulak nodded as she turned to stare at Dexter and crossed her arms in the process. I turned in kind as the image of the cracked sphere remained at the forefront of my mind. “Christ that is disturbing. Who would even deliberately make a spell that would do that? I can’t imagine someone being so cruel.”

I shuddered as the insanity required to make the spell ran through my mind. “How long do you think he's been like this?” I suddenly asked.

Garahk glanced at Dexter, mixing her ingredients together as she did so. “I do not anticipate him lasting more than a handful of days. The spell may have been cast some time ago and has been eating at him ever since.”

Bulak turned to Garahk, her face burning with questions. “Could it be connected to the battle?” She asked. “It appears to be acting as the crux of recent events.”

Garahk threw a few items in a small bowl and began grinding the contents with a pestle. “Perhaps,” She admitted, her hands working furiously to finish her creation. “but there is still none here capable of designing a spell like this, save for myself. I am more than suspicious of the invading army, on the other hand. They may have had a mage capable of this, as rare as it sounds.” Bulak growled in anger as she turned back to Dexter. His slumped figure swayed slightly as Garahk continued to work. I couldn’t imagine him staying asleep for much longer. I bit my knuckle as what Garahk said flitted through my mind. “He's been going through this for who knows how long. Even during the funeral, this damage was being done to him. God that must have been torturous.” I stepped back as Dexter suddenly let out a loud gasp and sat up with a start.

He turned and squinted around angrily as he took in his situation. “Where The Fuck Am I?” He spat. “I don’t have time for this. I have an elf to kill.”

Bulak tilted her head upward as she stared down at Dexter. “The ritual room,” Bulak replied sternly. “You have been brought here so that your problem may be solved. Soon your insufferable nature will be remedied.”

Dexter scoffed angrily as he pulled at his restraints. “I Know My Problem, It's People Like You That Stop Me From Taking Revenge On Almar. You're Nothing But Obstacles In My Way.”

Bulak scowled at Dexter’s accusation. “I shall let that remark slide, outsider, considering your condition, but you would do best to hold your tongue. My patience is not endless.”

Dexter let out a laugh and threw his head back. “Is That A Threat? From The Chief's Daughter? I Always Thought You Were Some Sort Of Figure Head; Good For Nothing Else But Standing There And Looking Pretty.” Bulak’s eyes flared wide as she heard the insult. I detected the danger in the situation. Bulak took a step forward to punch him, but I stepped between them and brought the flat of my hand slamming into his face. Dexter paused for a moment before he chuckled again and turned back to us. “As Expected From A Girl.” He spat, red mark appearing beside his bruise. “Too Bad That's Not Going To Hurt Me. You Might As Well Let Bulak Punch Me. That Might Actually Tickle.” I gritted my teeth as he continued to taunt. Dexter suddenly craned his neck to look at Garahk. “What About You Garahk? How's That Magic Working Out For You? Fat Lot Of Good That Did. You Couldn't Even Protect The Chieftess.” I placed a hand on Bulak's shoulder as she tried to step forward. I felt an idea slowly forming in my mind as I continued to gaze at him. “This is the polar opposite of how he normally acts. He was so calm and collected when the orcs first found us. In fact, this is exactly how Bulak behaved until-”

I stifled a grin as I suddenly turned to Bulak. “Let me handle this,” I whispered. “I think I can change his tune.” Bulak looked at me skeptically for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion as she stared at my confident expression, then took a step back, gesturing to the still bound Dexter. I turned at Dexter's still smug face, a twinkle in his mismatched eyes that I was determined to extinguish. I grinned in kind as I folded my arms in front of me and adopted a confident tone. “That's pretty rich coming from a guy that was knocked out by a woman.”

Dexter's grin faltered, shifting to a sneer of contempt as he gazed up at me. “It's Pretty Easy To Sucker Punch Someone.” He retorted angrily. “If I knew about her intent, I would have been able to block it.” He pulled against the cords binding him. “If It Weren't For These Ropes I'd Be Out The Door.”

I turned towards the door, still keeping the smug expression Dexter had earlier. “I don't know. Those knots don’t seem all that tight. Most guys would have been able to get out of that by now.” Dexter's fists clenched in anger, pulling harder against the ropes. I continued to grin as I gestured dismissively at them. “Only a complete moron would still be tied up with those.”

Dexter let out a growl as he strained against his bindings. “Don't Call Me A Moron.” He barked. “I! Am! Not! A! Moron!”

I let out a short laugh, taunting his self-assurance. “I'm not calling you a moron, your situation is.” I countered smugly. “That’s the whole point of the insult. Morons wouldn’t still be strapped to that chair. Even meatheads would be able to muscle their way through the ropes.”

Dexter scowled in rage and his arms started to bulge as he pulled at the bonds. “Then Let Me Change It.” He spat angrily. “I’ll Show You Just How Strong I Am!” He started to struggle vigorously in the chair, pulling at the cords with all his might. His head flung wildly back and forth as he struggled to pull away from the seat.

Bulak leaned over to whisper curiously in my ear. “What are you doing? What are you hoping to accomplish?”

I grinned slightly as I watched Dexter struggle fruitlessly. There was a reason rope was made, it’s hard to force your way through, blade or not. It’s really useful when you need to lift something that’s heavier than the strength of a single person. I turned to Bulak as I gestured and explained. “I'm trying to tire him out. He can't escape if he's too tired to do so. Just give it time, he’ll use up his energy soon enough.”

Bulak turned to look at me skeptically. “Are you confident that will work?” She asked. “What if your plan if he does not tire?”

I shrugged as Dexter let out a desperate roar. “Don’t worry, he’ll tire out. Besides, even if it doesn’t, it's better than him antagonizing everyone in the room. At least this way he's not trying to heckle other people.” Bulak nodded as she straitened, turning back to Dexter once more. Dexter continued to struggle as Garahk began muttering more arcane phrases. The cauldron glowed slightly and Garahk added some more ingredients to it. Dexter let out an extended groan as he pulled firmly against his restraints before finally letting out an exhausted sigh and slumping over, panting. I turned to Bulak as the room fell silent again. “Told you it would be better,” I smirked calmly. My victory was short-lived as a gasp suddenly escaped Dexter's lips. He sat up with a start and began to pant heavily as he looked around. His expression was different, calmer, more neutral. I let in a breath as a realized the significance.

Dexter pulled against the ropes experimentally as he turned to me. “Thank you for that.” He sighed. Bulak and Garahk turned to his in shock gave him a quizzical look. I let out a gasp of my own as I heard his change in tone. He sounded more soft-spoken, careful in his thoughts and actions.

I blinked in surprise and thought through the implications as I watched Dexter sit there. “I'm guessing you're the ‘counterpart'?” I asked calmly, hiding my own confusion and apprehension.

Dexter nodded as he continued to gasp, exhausted by his own exertions. “A name that we have given each other it would seem. My counterpart is quite aggressive, ruthless in his desire for victory.” He turned to Bulak and Garahk. “I apologize for that. I hope that once this issue is sorted you will forgive me.”

Garahk continued to stare in disbelief as the cauldron glowed slightly. “Good gods, it is worse than I thought.”

Dexter nodded as he pointed his chin at the metal bowl. “And I would very much like for this to be over. So, please work quickly.” Garahk shook her head slightly as she turned back to the cauldron.

Bulak stepped towards Dexter, causing him to look up at her. “What is the meaning of this? What has happened? Who has done this to you?”

Dexter shrugged at the question, his expression calm at the barrage of questions. “Fuck if I know.” He replied. “I just know that it's giving me a massive and consistent headache. The rest has been kind of a blur.” Garahk suddenly picked up the cauldron and carried it into the circular pit, staff sinking into the dirt along the way. She set it down and rushed back as Dexter let out a stifled grunt, his hands suddenly gripping the armrests in anger. “Whatever you need to do, do it quickly. I think my counterpart wishes to have control again.”

Garahk nodded as she reached into her shawl. “There is one more condition I must fulfill.” She replied. “Give me a moment to prepare the proper incantation.”

The tensions spread up Dexter’s arms as he started to exert himself again. “Do it quickly, I have only a cou-” He suddenly tilted his head back and his calm expression was overtaken by rage. He let out an angry growl as Garahk stepped closer, her fist clenched in front of her. Dexter suddenly bellowed as he slammed his forward, causing Garahk to jump back. “NO! I Won't Be Forced To Kowtow Again.” He tried to pull away as Garahk stepped forward brought her hand towards his head. Dexter started switching between his two expressions quickly as he tried to avoid Garahk’s clenched fist. “We need this. NO! It'll be better this way.” Dexter's jaw clenched as Garahk managed to force her knuckles onto his head, pinning it there as he tried to pull away from her. Garahk just followed his movements as he moved wildly. He finally stopped his struggles and stared angrily at her as she began muttering another spell. Dexter stared at her for a few moments then grinned again as he seemed to realize something. “You need me to sleep don't ya?” He spat tauntingly. “Well, I've got bad news; I'm not falling asleep tha-” He was cut off as Garahk suddenly yanked her fist away and Dexter slumped forward, unconscious. Garahk turned to the two orcs that had carried him in as she gestured at the circle.

“Bring him to the center.” She instructed. “I need the ritual focus to aid me.” They nodded and began untying Dexter. “We have an hour before the spell wears off. I will have to work quickly.” Bulak and I followed them into the ring as Garahk knelt in the center. The orcs placed Dexter's unconscious body in front of her, head barely touching her knees. Garahk dipped her finger into the cauldron and pulled off Dexter’s glasses before handing them to me. I took them and put them in my pocket as Garahk pointed at Dexter's shirt. “Remove it.” She ordered the orcs. “This must contact his flesh.” The mages nodded as they pulled the shirt off and backed away. Garahk leaned down and began drawing strange symbols on Dexter as she muttered under her breath. The pale substance glowed brighter as she drew, sparkling despite the dim dungeon we were in. A few of the staves suddenly sprouted purple flames, leaving a few barren as Garahk muttered yet another spell. She continued to draw for several minutes as Dexter's chest rose and fell with each breath. Finally, she drew back and wiped her fingers in the dirt, cleaning them of the residual substance still on them. She had drawn a circle into his chest with a complex symbol written within, similar to the symbols I saw in spellbooks. More runic symbols surrounded the circle and extended to his shoulders and hips, too innumerable to count. Though she had drawn only five symbols onto his face, one on each cheek and three on his forehead. The ‘ᛰ’ symbol was on the left side of his forehead while ‘ᛔ’ was on his right. The symbols ‘ᚾ’ and ‘ᛘ’ had the same pattern for his cheeks. The symbol ‘ᛋ’ appeared at the very center of his forehead, seeming to glow brightest of the five. Garahk gestured with her other hand, causing a gentle breeze to emanate from her palm. Goosebumps sprouted across his chest and the glowing died slightly as the substance dried in the cool gust. Garahk then motioned the two orcs back over. “Bury him.” She commanded. “The arcane soil is needed as well.” The two of them nodded and began drawing up dirt and pushing it over his body, leaving only his head exposed. The dirt appeared to give off a pale glow as it was moved, shifting back to its inert state as it settled on Dexter’s chest. Garahk then drew her staff up and planted into in the dirt, letting it stand alone as she brought her hands on either side of Dexter's head. Dexter grimaced slightly as Garahk began muttering under her breath. I brought my fist to my face as I began to nervously chew my knuckle. I didn’t know what was going on and I had no idea when she would be done.

The staff began to glow along with the marking on Dexter's face, giving off purple light as Garahk’s chanting grew louder. Garahk looked up as another sphere materialized above Dexter's body. This one was pure white and glowing brightly. An ugly crack ran down the center of the surface, revealing a deep and dark center. Garahk continued to mutter as purple beads of light left the staff and drifted towards the object, sinking into it as it made contact. Dexter let out a guttural cough as the first bead entered the object. He started to stir slightly, dirt shifting above him as he squirmed. Garahk seemed to press her hands firmly onto his temples as his legs started to shift as well. “I-Is that supposed to happen?” I asked nervously.

Garahk paused in her chanting and turned to the orcs. “Hold his legs.” She commanded. “He mustn't move during the spell.” They nodded as they moved over and placed their weight on his legs. The dirt continued to shift as Garahk returned to muttering.

Bulak turned to the doorway. “Get In Here!” She roared. Four orcs rushed through the doorway. Bulak pointed at them. “You two, help hold him down. You others remain here. Garahk may still need you.” They rushed over as the other two walked over cautiously. They knelt and sunk their hands into the soil, pinning his arms. Dexter let out a groan as he started turning his head this way and that. Dexter's struggles were growing more desperate. I noticed beads of sweat pooling on his forehead, wetting the symbols still there. I moved over and placed my hand on his head, feeling the damp symbols written there. I drew my hand back as I felt a fire raging just beneath his skin. I brought my hand to his buried chest and felt a similar fire raging beneath the dirt there. A single thought radiated from this information. “Heatstroke.” I realized in amazement.

I turned to Garahk in desperation. “He's burning up. We need to cool him down.” Garahk didn't stop muttering but glanced up at me skeptically. I gestured insistently as I felt my hand shaking. “He could die if he overheats like this. He needs to be cooled down.” Garahk turned to the two remaining orcs and motioned them over with her head. They rushed over as they gesture briefly. They then sank their hands into the dirt, causing frost to sprout from the soil as it glowed. I looked up at the object as I heard Dexter's teeth begin to chatter in response to the shift in temperature. A purple aura was starting to radiate from the crack in the middle, trying to draw the stone together and fix the overwhelming damage. “Let this work.” I pleaded softly. “Please let this work.”

What Garahk said next chilled me to the bone. “Something is fighting me.” She suddenly said. “I do not know if I can overcome it.”

Dexter

Our plane was thrown into complete chaos. As soon as Garahk's spell took hold we were plunged back into our game, our deadly game of cat and mouse. Thankfully, this time he was thirty yards away, giving me more time to run. I turned to try and run back into the maze, but instead of the white walls, I saw only crumbling ruins. “Revelation: My counterpart has destroyed my means of escape. Theorization: Creation of obstacles no longer possible. Counterpart interference would be too great.” I turned back to the now charging figure growing closer. I chose to adopt a fighting stance. “Conclusion: Confrontation is now inevitable. Adopt and analyze all known fighting techniques.” I adjusted my stance as I perfected my posture. I tilted my head briefly as I noticed my counterpart's appearance had progressed again. His skin was now beat red. His hair stuck out wildly, bobbing up and down as he ran closer. His shirt was nonexistent, and his jeans were replaced by some sort of animal skin cloth. I glanced down at my own appearance. My skin had changed into a full blueberry tone as if I had not yet washed off from my time in the vat. My attire was now a neatly pressed navy blue suit with matching pants. I brought my hand to my own hair and felt the short cut hair along the side of my head, clean and neat. I scowled slightly at the difference between then and now. “Conclusion: Division has progressed.”

I focused my attention back on my counterpart. He was charging me reckless. His fists came flying in, only for me to sidestep the blows. He continued to swing as I miraculously avoided his fists. “Realization: Possession of mobility advantage. Superior intellect allows for anticipation and countering of imminent blows.” My counterpart continued to roar as I repeatedly dodged his attacks. “FIGHT ME, YOU COWARD! I'LL RIP YOU TO SHREDS AND BATHE IN YOUR BLOOD!” I let out a scoff as I ducked under another one of his strikes. “Disadvantage: counterpart possesses limit defying capabilities. My movements will eventually slow and I shall be caught.” I glanced up at the sky and saw the celestial object. A bizarre purple light was radiating from it, bathing the ground in its light.” “Anticipation: surviving long enough to observe the restoration of the psyche.” My hopes were dashed when a white-hot pain suddenly radiated up my leg. I let out a cry and I rolled out of the way of the latest blow as I glanced around. A fire had risen around us, surrounding us on all sides and quickly shrinking the space available. “Realization: timeframe has just been reduced.” I turned back to my counterpart as he charged again. I continued to dodge as my heart started to pound in my head, my physical limit growing closer. Swing after swing whizzed past me as I led him around the closing circle. I turned my torso every which way to avoid his strikes.

The flames slowly drew closer and closer as I felt myself grow fatigued, my heart struggling to keep up with my movements. I could feel a damp pressure on my forehead as my body started to scream from the contortions. I felt the temperature rise as the flames grew higher around us. My counterpart continued to roar obscenities as our area was further reduced in size. I felt sweat drip down my face as my body begged me to stop. The fires licked at my back as my counterpart’s fists grew faster and faster. He finally managed to outmaneuver me and slammed me down as his fist begin to squeeze. I felt a pressure grow in my head as my counterpart pushed on my neck. “THIS ENDS NOW!” He roared. I let out a muffled cough as I felt the pressure build. Blackness started to creep into my vision. I suddenly brought my knees up and my feet to his chest, pushing up desperately. My counterpart flew back as I kicked him off, and I felt the pressure disappear. I quickly stood, coughing, as I noticed a startling change in the environment.

The heat of flames was no longer there. Instead, we were surrounded by a field of snow, punctuated by protrusions of ice. The wind blew flakes of snow across my vision and whistled in my ear as it chilled me and the once firey landscape. I looked at my counterpart as my breath froze in the air. He was still laying in the field, face down, struggling to climb to his feet. “This Ends Today, Whether You Like It Or Not.” I bellowed over the wind. “Just Give Up.”

My counterpart let out a deep grunt and looked up at me as he stood. “YOU'RE ASSUMING YOU'LL LIVE THROUGH TODAY. I WON'T REST UNTIL SHEL IS AVENGED.” He roared back. I let out a sigh as I looked up at the object. The purple glow had grown brighter, but it wasn’t stopping it from breaking apart. “Revelation: Object will not alter condition trajectory without further power or direction. Solution: Offer own power and guidance to remedy the issue. Apprehension: Unable to overpower counterpart’s will to provide such help, even if own direction would contribute meager force.” I turned back as my counterpart started charging again, fists reared back and ready to strike. I got into a fighting stance, ready for his next attack. His fists whizzed past my head as a rumbling crack echoed across the field, indicating further damage to the object. I continued to dodge his blows as the wind howled in my ears. I felt a strangely renewed vigor at this change in temperature, thermal exertion no longer an issue on my mind. I continued to dodge blow after blow as I deftly weaved around the open field, trying to dodge his attacks while formulating a method to get away and help repair the object. “Advantage him: Running won’t do any good. He’ll have the overall speed advantage. Advantage me: Maneuverability allows me to overcome the speed difference in close quarters. His movements are too primal to theorize beyond the next move. Advantage him: His delays may make object damage permanent. Advantage me: Intelligence allows for psychological as well as physical planning. Decision: Neutralize opponent.”

I turned my torso with all my might as I retaliated with the first punch I delt in our entire fight, striking his exposed side near his floating rib. He reeled back slightly as I drew my hand back and turned my hip, lifting my leg and doing the same thing on the opposing side with a swift kick. My opponent let out a pained cough then a roar as he intensified his swinging. I returned to dodging as I kept my fists near my face and tried to find an opening. “New information: Damage increases ferocity but decreases cohesiveness. Conclusion: strike critical areas.” I began to retaliate as I spotted weaknesses in his defense, striking vital areas as I recalled them. I struck joints, nerves, exposed areas of flesh devoid of skeletal underbellies. I damaged his spleen, kidneys, major arteries as he continued to roar in frustration and swing ever wilder. More and more gaps appeared in his defenses as our fight dragged on, the time marked by the ever-blooming object above. I stole a glance in its direction as my counterpart showed no signs of slowing down. The purple light was fighting desperately to pull the pieces together, but it was a losing battle. It didn’t have the power to pull something like that back together. I let out an annoyed growl as I struck my counterpart’s torso once more. “Progress nill: Aid is undoubtedly required to repair damages. Solution: . . . . None.”

I felt a sense of hopelessness well up within me, a feeling I was unfamiliar with. I was fighting a losing battle in a scenario where there was no winner. If I won, I had no way of repairing the damage. If I lost, I’d likely be terminated by my counterpart. There was absolutely no good solution to this situation. All I could do was survive and hope, both of which would still not change the outcome of the scenario. “Halt: A solution is always possible. I merely have to discover it.” I dodged more of my counterpart’s assaults as I expanded my horizon, trying to come up with a feasible solution. “Notion: psychological solution may be possible. Physical confrontation is ineffective in this regard. Cooperation may still be viable if the manipulation of motivation can be found. Objective: discover counterpart’s motivation.”

I suddenly glanced over my counterpart's shoulder as a glint on the horizon caught my eye. In the distance was an icy boulder, protruding from the smooth plain, truthfully one of many pieces that now dotted the snowy landscape. Through the blizzard, I could see a demonic door, frozen in one of the cliffs, yellow eye staring intently at our conflict. It flickered between the two of us as it observed our methods of fighting. I felt the hopelessness fade as I suddenly realized a method of victory.

I turned back to my counterpart as I quickly formulated a plan. “You Want To Avenge Shel?” I shouted, dodging his latest swings.

My counterpart roared in anger as his latest strike slammed his fist into the snow, giving me time to take a step back. “FUCK YES I DO!” He roared back, temporarily forgetting our conflict. I let out a sigh of relief as my idea worked. He was still able to talk, just not if I wasn’t pushing the right buttons.

I pointed at the embedded door as I directed his attention towards it. “Well, There's The Cause Of It All,” I shouted back. He turned to look at the door, his anger still swelling within him. I continued as I painted him a picture, angering him to attack the door. “That's The Door To His World. He Brought This Upon Us. He’s Why We’re Here In The First Place. Without Him, Almar Wouldn't Have Found Us And Killed Shel. If It Weren't For Him, She'd Still Be Alive. He’s The Cause Of This All, Of the Battle, Of Your Pain, Of Her Death! Look At It! Look At Its Monstrous Eye! It's Like It's Taunting You! It Knows Your Powerless Against It!” My counterpart let out a bellowing roar as he charged at the cliff, abandoning our fight and tearing into the ice as he desperately made his way towards the door. I watched in amazement as the ice chattered and crumbled under his fingers, bypassing all known laws of reality. “Realization: Emotions surpass logical limits.” I turned to look up at the object as another rumbling crack echoed across our plane. Another piece had drifted out from the chasm, furthering the divide in the moon. I took in a breath as my heart slowed again. “Realization: spell may contain countermeasures for repairs. Existing damage may also hinder efforts..” I turned back to him as I heard a loud snap. He'd already ripped the door out and was proceeding to smash it to pieces. “Counterpart has untold strength in the mental realm, illogical nature gives him said advantage. Celestial situation appears dire and requires aid to remedy. Conclusion: Counterpart may be tricked into providing his help.” I trudged over as he ripped the final piece into splinters, causing another cry to echo across our world. “How Far Are You Willing To Go?” I asked.

He turned to me, face contorted in a wild expression. “I'D DESTROY PLANETS IF IT MEANS I HINDERED ALMAR!” He roared.

I grinned slightly as I gestured at the object in the heavens. “Well, He Wants That Moon Destroyed.” I lied, shouting over the howling wind. My counterpart turned towards it, rage miraculously growing wilder. “He Wants To Remind You Of His Victory Every Day, A Permanent Facet Of This Landscape That Cannot Be Ignored. He Wants To Remind You Of Your Failure, Your Failure To Stop Him From Hurting Shel. He Wants You To Think Of Shel's Broken Heart Every Time You See The Broken Moon!”

My counterpart through his fists back and let out another roar. “FUCK YOU ALMAR!” He bellowed in rage. He directed his hands toward the object, letting out a strained grunt as they flexed angrily. I looked up at the object expectantly, eager to see what he was capable of. A green aura had now joined the purple, throwing strings of thin light out from the surface. The wind began to bellow and push on me as the strands materialized as if pushing on my own being. I looked down at my own hands as an idea drifted through my mind, as if of its own accord. “Power is useless without direction.” I looked back up at the object, feeling a desire to watch it. The filaments were now gripping the two pieces of the object, weakly pulling them together as the purple light grew brighter, throwing themselves out from the crack like a planetary ring. I directed my hand towards the object as I contributed my will to the strands. “Unite!” I thought loudly. The nebulous strands suddenly spun together and collapsed into solid tendrils, able to grip the object much tighter. They bent and wove together as me and my counterpart united under a single goal, undo the damage. I felt a mild pain dissipate from my head as the tendrils slowly pulled the object closed again, throwing the purple light out in a larger and larger ring. I heard my counterpart roar in defiance as the vine-like tendrils reached out and grabbed the drifting pieces, gently pulling them back in to unite the object as a whole once more. I looked down as I suddenly felt cold water lapping at my feet.

My eyes grew wide as I saw the snow below me quickly melting away, revealing a floor of ice and hundreds of doors beneath its surface, various colored eyes blinking up at me. I looked back up at the object. The purple light had localized itself to the crack, streaming out like a ring encompassing half of it. The water slowly rose as one last realization dawned on me. “This plane is temporary. Once it is gone, I'll cease to exist. Our power will fade as our mind is restored. We won't be able to destroy the doorways. We might not even know they exist.” I looked down as I watched my form shift one last time. As I watched, pigment returned to my skin and my suit pulled back into my regular clothes. I felt emotions return to me as the water rose to my chest. I looked over at my counterpart. He had changed as well, returning to a prior appearance as I had, his attire still disheveled and untamed, but otherwise identical to my own. I turned back to the object as I considered the consequences of these events. “Infiltration will still be possible. We won’t consciously know they exist. Then again maybe it’s for the best. Maybe it’s better that he and I remain in the unconscious. I probably won’t exist anymore. . . but I think I'm okay with that.” The water was now above my head, submerging me in its cold pressure and pressing further down on me. Through the water, I could see the green coils had weakened and were beginning to wither, fading as the water rose. The purple light was fading as well as the object was restored to its whole and the darkness began to cover it.

After another moment, the tendrils faded and fell away as the object was fully enveloped by blackness and disappeared from view, indistinguishable from the rest of the sky. I panted as I felt the last vestige of influence on the object die and I felt myself finally relax. I was now submerged, standing on a floor of ice, with only the faintest hint of what was to come. I could feel an inevitable end to this plane of existence, an end to the conscious existence of the unconscious. “There's still one more thing to do.” I thought as I turned to my counterpart. He'd fallen to his knees, panting despite the water. I slowly walked over, cold water hindering my movements as the world continued to grow dark. The stars blinked out of existence. The cliffs disappeared into blackness. Even my maze was swallowed by the dark. By the time I stood beside him, I could only make out the two of us, the two of us in an empty plane of existence. He looked up at me, stunned. “I . . tried to . . kill you.” He gasped, stunned by his own words. His voice sounded muffled as if the sound had to fight to reach my ears. I nodded and offered my hand. He paused, then took it gingerly.

I helped him up as I felt the water around us grow colder. “We don't have much time,” I said. It felt weird to speak as if I was never meant to do it. “You and I both know what’s going to happen. In a few minutes, we'll cease to exist. We might not even remember our interactions.”

My counterpart looked around in disbelief, fixated on one particular fact. “You could've stopped me. You could've fought back. You could have ended me, but you didn’t” He insisted.

I nodded, feeling time grow short. “In the beginning, yes. I could've stopped you. Just like you tried to stop me from influencing you. Were I . . We . . a different man I might have come to that conclusion a lot sooner. But the truth is our logic will always dictate the necessity of emotions. Without it life is pointless.” I motioned at both of us as I echoed a prior statement. “I can't do it without you; you can't do it without me.”

My counterpart seemed to think for a minute, then nodded. We’re better than that.” He affirmed. “We can overcome desires like that.” I nodded in agreement as I grinned The two of us looked down as I suddenly felt a new chill envelop my legs. Our feet had sunk in, or rather, the ice had risen, creeping its way up to our shins as the temperature continued to drop.

I looked up at my counterpart as the implications became clear. “We don't have much time,” My counterpart looked up to meet my gaze. I placed a hand on his shoulder as I continued to speak. “You are right about one thing. I don't have the drive you do.” He finally grinned as I started to praise him. “Our logic dictates taking the comfortable and slow route; not willing to experience tremendous strain in the meeting of a goal. This ultimately leads to mediocrity; but here, we can't afford ourselves the luxury of mediocrity. We must strive for the best. In contrast, our emotions will stop at nothing to achieve a goal, but they'll take the least efficient route possible. They'll even go as far as to alienate others for the sake of completion, and we can't do this alone.” I let go of his shoulder and offered my hand. “So, I propose a mutual partnership. From now on, we work together. No more underhanded influence from me, and no more violent overpowering from you. We'll be equals in this.” I felt the ice reach my thighs as I stood there. My counterpart stared at my hand for a minute, seeming hesitant. I brought my hand a little closer. “Partners?” I asked. My counterpart reached up and let out a sigh as he seemed to think. The ice slowly crept up to my hips. My other hand was now frozen in the ice, unmovable.

My counterpart continued to think for one more moment, then took my hand and shook vigorously. “Partners.” He echoed. I grinned slightly as I felt the ice rise to envelop us. “Let's do this.” He added, grinning. “We still have time to complete the rite.”

I smiled wide as I nodded in agreement. “I’ll follow your lead on this one. I look forward to seeing what you can come up with.” After another moment, the ice reached our elbows, pinning our hands in position. I looked my counterpart in the eye one last time. “I'll see you on the other side.” I quipped. My counterpart let out a small laugh as our heads were finally overtaken by the ice, freezing his face into his laugh and mine into a victorious grin.