When she opened her eyes there was nothing but fire.

“Of course I just had to jinx myself.” Cece cursed herself. Dreams were a funny thing, scholars were divided on what exactly they were, but the popular consensus was that they were the brain organizing and processing information and memories, something that Cece was inclined to believe, due to her general lack of them. Ever since she enhanced her mind, she dreamt only once or twice a month, however, her perfect memory meant she never forgot them. Even when she wished she could.

Screams roared through the air, the fire blazed, illuminating the night, letting everyone see the blood and the bodies. Cece watched a younger brunette version of herself run as fast as her legs could carry her.

She had been working on controlling her dreams, but the most she had managed was to separate herself from them, she got the joy of walking behind her younger self and seeing the scene from an outside perspective instead of seeing it through her own eyes. She couldn’t wander too far however, her memories of the day only included certain locations, and her inviolable memory seemed unwilling to extrapolate what other parts of the estate may have looked like.

It was a moonless night, and Cece could only watch as a young boy held off a Solastrian mage. He had red hair, and a rapier made of pure silver.

“His Focus.” She remembered fondly.

The younger version of her anxiously held her arm, unsure of what to do. There was fighting behind and before her, and she was powerless to help.

“Cece, run!” The boy cried behind him, repelling the mages attack with silver reflection magic.

Cece, the younger one, hesitated, but after a second acquiesced. She had always been a smart girl, god how she hated it. The older Cece lingered as long as she could just looking at the boy.

“You look younger every time…” She murmured. He was only sixteen at the time, but in her memories he seemed so much more mature. She was older than him by two years now. Nevertheless, he couldn’t hear her.

Eventually Cece found herself trailing behind her younger self, her little legs propelling her as fast as she could, into the forest by their estate. It was boring. She knew how this story ended, she didn’t know why her brain insisted on tormenting her about it. She hid in the forest, no one had stopped her, they had larger and more dangerous prey, and no one bothered to find her after. It didn’t matter that a Silva was alive, because a Silva who wasn’t a mage was not a Silva.

The girl ran through the woods, taking strange and circuitous routes. To an outside observer the girl would look mad, but the strange paths she was tracing served as a sort of key. The forest had been tended for centuries by the family with the purpose of it being a difficult place to navigate. Illusions and even some platinum magic was used to make the entire landscape nonsensical. The young version of her finally found the hiding spot she was looking for, a pool of water in the middle of a grove. She dove into the water, and did not come out. The older Cece watched and could just barely see the girl underneath the water, unbeknownst to any observer there was a pocket of air underneath the pond, it was Cece's favorite spot. The older Cece looked back at the forest before she was pulled underneath the pool. As a child it was a place of wonder, hidden groves, and secret spots littered the place. As an adult, she hadn’t stepped foot in it since. But here, hidden underneath a pool of water, Solastria’s demise was born.

Cece woke up with a headache the next day. That should have been her first clue for how the rest of the day would go, but she persisted. She went through her morning routine and got adequately dressed to go downstairs and get a meal from the innkeeper. It was a simple porridge, but Cece didn’t mind, she had gotten used to a certain amount of luxury, but this wasn’t for fun, this was business.

When she was ready Lotte and her started walking out of the town and into the dark forest this region was known for. Cece had debated not taking the golem with her, she didn’t really serve much use here of all places, but Cece had already gotten used to the things’ presence and it was unlikely to get in her way. What it could do, however, was get damaged.

“Lotte, save a new order, if you are attacked make sure to run away unless I say otherwise.” Cece commanded as they took a winding trail into the trees.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Understood, core inscription capacity is now at 6%. Cece?”

“Yes, Lotte?”

“Are we hunting the holy beast now?”

“Yes.”

“Why are we hunting the holy beast?”

“I’m going to use it’s body for reagents.”

They walked in silence for a few moments before she asked another question.

“Are you an alchemetrix?” Her metallic voice asked. Cece stopped walking for a moment. It was a painfully simple conclusion, Lotte had seen her directly modify her inscriptions, and Cece had made no efforts to conceal that information from the construct, but still. It was an inference. She had used information to gain more information.

“Well done, Lotte! Yes I am an alchemetrix.”

“I see, thank-”

A murder of crows interrupted Lotte with several echoing cries.

“Get behind me, Lotte. It’s here.”

The golem complied, and Cece found herself in a clearing, Lotte behind her, with a figure approaching from the trees across them. The figure gracefully and unerringly wound her way through the trees and when Cece could finally see it, she was greeted by a stranger wearing her own face. It smiled at her as it walked closer. This was anticipated, what wasn’t was Lotte’s reaction. The golem almost looked concerned, as much as her facial expressions were capable of looking anything. She could see the conflicting magics running through the automata’s golem core. The doppelgänger’s magic, among other things, convinced the person looking at them that they were “real”. They excelled at killing groups for this reason.

“So the magic is affecting Lotte as well, interesting.” Cece hummed to herself, perhaps she was underselling doppelgängers if their magic could fool golems. “Lotte, creator verification: I am your creator, keep me within view to confirm I have not been replaced.” Lotte's eyes glowed with ruby light, as the gold detection magics confirmed her identity.

“Understood.” Lotte visibly relaxed, a virtue of the inscriptions made to make her more lifelike.

The doppelgänger was still approaching, but it snarled as it saw the effect wasn’t working on the golem. It raised its hand and waved it in a display that Cece knew was indicative of instinctive magic. The movements were fundamentally unnecessary, but they generally helped focus the caster. Most mages learn to harness their magic more methodically, but alchemical beasts are far more primal in their casting.

Despite the motion however, nothing happened. The doppelgänger looked confused, but it didn’t have time to question what had happened, as a shot roared throughout the clearing. A bullet pierced its chest and it fell to the ground.

“Cece, what was it doing?” Lotte asked unable to understand what was happening.

“The doppelgänger mimics its victims, including their magic. It was trying to cast a spell, but unfortunately for it, I’m completely inept. However, I don’t think it’s dead.” Cece replied, aiming her revolver at the creature as it shambled upwards, and changed shape. Doppelgängers were not limited to mimicking just the people in front of them, they could draw from their victims memories as well.

Cece wasn’t prepared to see the boy’s face twice in one day. His red hair and green eyes were distinct even in the low light of the forest. She tried to fire her pistol and failed, her body betrayed her, her fingers unwilling to pull the trigger. The doppelgänger was using her memories of him against her, but she wouldn’t let that stand.

“On the count of three, you are going to aim at the doppelgänger, close your eyes, and pull the trigger, regardless of anything that happens.” She commanded her own mind, making it so even if she changed her mind, her body would only be a puppet to her will.

Her hand steadied, her breathing calmed, the sights of her pistol lined up with the doppelgänger’s head, and she closed her eyes.

“Goodbye, Reynard.” She whispered.

The gunshot echoed for the second time through the clearing, and when she opened her eyes, she was blessed with the sight of the strange pale body of the doppelgänger, no longer looking like her darling older brother.

Cece breathed a sigh of relief, and began to harvest the materials. Almost every part of the doppelgänger was extremely useful, silver magic was highly concentrated in every ounce of its flesh and blood. She started with draining the blood into several leaded glass vials, lead magics worked to preserve the materials. The blood looked like liquid moonlight, pure silver, it would make a fantastic ink after refining. She harvested the remaining parts of it, and put everything into her spatially expanded bag. She hadn’t even had time to wash the blood off herself, before Lotte asked another question. The golem had exhausted her allotted questions during the fight so Cece thought she would be able to work in silence, but either she took longer than she thought or something sufficiently urgent had prompted the question.

“Cece, what is that?” Lotte asked in her artificial monotone.

“Well, call me the Daemon King of Ustrilla.” Cece whispered to herself in exasperation at the sight ahead of her.

Cece’s gaze had followed the construct’s finger where she saw a hulking, shambling form, through the trees. It was some distance, but even from her spot hundreds of meters away, she could just hear it walking. It was picking up speed, and Cece thought to start running when it knocked the first tree over. By the time she was on the other side of the clearing, where Lotte had been standing, she could see the creature. A mass of dirtied white feathers, that writhed with every movement, it walked on four limbs, although all four were shaped like human arms with vicious claws. As it saw them it’s colossal form let out a noise like a mixture between a choir and a broken organ.

“Lotte." Cece began while running and grabbing the construct's arm to pull her along, "That's a feral angel."