A chill ran down Momo’s entire existence.

That was not a demon.

That was…

That was her.

Formerly, at least. In another life. The creature was skinny, boney, hidden behind straight black bangs, wrapped in a Speak Now hoodie and wrinkled jeans. It wasn’t wearing shoes, but its socks had tiny cats embroidered into the heel. If it wasn’t for the face—that shocking lack of nose and mouth, leaving only a plane of pale skin—it would have been like looking in a mirror.

She’d seen plenty of her own clones in the past few months, but this was different. This wasn’t a clone, but more like… a shadow. Everything about the other girl was sunken, stiff.

Superficially, it was spot on. But when it walked, it held itself like a newborn, just trying out its feet for the first time. It wobbled and lurched and groaned when it fell over its feet.

“Hey…” Momo offered, backing up even further—and nearly tripping when her heel danced along the edge of the platform. Righting herself, she waved her hands defensively. “You don’t want to fight me, right? Because I just saw your level, one hundred and two, that’s pretty… up there. Not super eager to find out what that— err— entails, if you know what I mean. Ha ha.”

The demon tripped again, and let out a low hiss. It ripped off the socks from its feet, flinging them over the side of the circle and into the abyss. The feet that lay underneath did not have toes. They were like two half-melted appendages.

Terror broiling in her stomach, Momo mumbled, “Sensory issues? Totally been there. I remember those socks—cute pattern, very scratchy. If you’re just overstimulated, you can go back down there where you came from, and we can pick this discussion up another time…”

She wasn’t sure what her strategy was here. Therapy-talking down this alleged mega-evil chaos-creature didn’t seem like the best technique in the book, but she also didn’t want to egg it on. If she could convince it that she wasn’t a threat, things would be a lot simpler.

The creature stumbled forward again. Catching itself, it landed on its hands in something reminiscent of downward dog. It gurgled unpleasantly, in a fashion that Momo now understood to be a sound of impatient evaluation, and bent its knees experimentally. Finding its new position much more amiable than balancing on two gangly legs, it began to stalk forward.

“I can see now where my mom was coming from when she told me to stop walking around like that at the mall,” Momo murmured. “Completely terrifying.”

The creature gained speed, and in a flash, it leapt at her.

Luckily, Momo was prepared—and with this year’s physical training behind her, she was both fast and strong enough to dodge out of the way and push the demon all at once.

She managed it all in one fluid movement, stepping aside and thrusting her full weight at the creature as it passed her by, forcing it over the edge of the platform.

It screamed as it plummeted, and Momo let out a breath, adrenaline washing over her. It wasn’t the hardest task to push the younger, more frail version of herself, but the Nether Demon wasn’t quite the same weight and texture as her meager human form—its skin had felt like ice-cold rubber, pliable yet revolting. It hadn’t felt like heaving a playground tire, not a person.

The terrible screams got quieter and quieter, until they were nothing but echoes. Had the demon hit the ground? As her tight chest rose and fell, Momo waited to hear some kind of thudding noise. The chasm seemed tall, maybe tall enough for a fall like that to severely wound it, if not kill it entirely. But no sound came.

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So Momo stood in place, and shivered.

She didn’t enjoy that glimpse back in time.

It was strange, seeing her former self like that, lurching and slithering like a common animal—because it was almost exactly how she had felt back then, in highschool. In adolescence. Even in college. Like something nasty and grotesque.

Something to be… hidden. Or better yet, discarded.

Her lips narrowed into a frown. She turned to face the abyss, peering down into the endless black. Had she acted too impulsively?

Fingers tightened around her left shoulder.

Momo paled. Oh, god—

The creature took hold of both of her shoulders, gripping her like death itself. Momo whipped around, breaking the grip but finding herself just a breath away from its leering plane of skin.

It looked so much less like skin, up close, and more like a mask one might don at a parade. Rubbery and loose.

Going on instinct, Momo pushed on its chest, shoving it away again. It stumbled backward, but quickly recovered—it was already learning how to balance on two feet. It was like it aged from a toddler to a young child within the span of a minute, its movements becoming smoother and more controlled.

“You picked up on that so fast,” Momo murmured, incredulous. A cold chill of awe sank through her. “What exactly are you?”

A low gurgle echoed from its throat, “Grrebgbr.”

Momo’s eyebrows rose. That sound was different from the rest. It was less animalistic—and while still complete gibberish—almost comprehensible.

In the same way that it was quickly learning how to walk, could it learn how to talk, too?

Seeing that it wasn’t rushing to attack her again, she kept going with the gentler approach—

“That’s really impressive, you know,” she said. “How fast you’re learning to mimic me.”

The creature returned her compliment with a bat-like screech. It lurched forward with the sound, but it didn’t attack. Momo’s hands flew up defensively, but she found that there was ultimately no use for them. This thing—it reminded her of a wild dog more than anything else. All bark, no bite.

At least for now.

And while it was probably monumentally stupid of her not to [Abysmal Blast] it to pieces right away… she wondered, perhaps, if there was an alternative.

Something a little more…

Diplomatic.

“Are you trying to speak to me?” Momo said, venturing the question. She figured, now that she’d seen just how timid this thing actually was, that maybe it was simply trying on different means of communication until one connected. “I must have confused you by swooping down as a raven then transforming into a human, didn’t I? My bad.”

It screeched again, and then stomped its feet up and down, as if upset by its own inability.

“That’s okay!” Momo urged, throwing her hands up. “Just take your time. But—um—human speech is more in the mouth, you know? And the upper throat? Like this…”

Feeling entirely stupid, she began moving her lips and making a variety of sounds.

She was delighted when the demon started replicating them.

“Yes!” She grinned. “Exactly. Try this one— my name is actually pretty easy to say—Momo.”

The demon clenched its hand around its own throat, pressing down hard.

“Gr—” it began, then pressed harder, “Momo—ow.”

Momo jumped. That voice—it had sounded like her own, but turned down a few decibels.

She grinned.

“Good job!” she said, then clapped. “That’s my name! Exactly!”

The creature started clapping too, mimicking her.

They clapped at each other for several seconds until Momo stopped, and looked around the dome. The creature did the same—arching its head unnaturally in many directions.

“Alright, trial,” Momo shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Me and the demon are friends now. Can we call this concluded?”

“Me—and—the—grrrbbrrr—done now,” her replica repeated, half of its speech sounding very normal, and the other half like someone had poured a bunch of maple syrup in a diesel engine.

Just as Momo was about to try and correct her shadow further, a crackle of lightning stroked across the sky. The demon bristled, barking again into the dark, lurching in several directions.

Momo shook her hands around in an attempt to soothe it. “It’s okay! I’m sure that was just part of this whole … thing! No need to get all feral again.”

“Gosh. You truly are a terrible learner, Momo. Three trials, and you couldn’t do a single one as intended.”

The hair went rigid on Momo’s arms. That voice—she turned backward in immediate relief, expecting to see Valerica’s shining golden face—but her grin faltered when she met the eyes of a wholly different creature.

Curled black horns. One eye red, the other black.

This was the dokkaebi that had visited her on the train.

The one that had given her the letter inviting her to Morgana’s so-called funeral.

“Venice,” she said, startled. “I didn’t expect to see… you.”