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Marina leaned in the shade of a tree, watching Fergus and his teacher spar. "Hey, old mage. Tell me how an heir to such high peerage is fucking about in the great forest.”

“Old mage?! Mind your tongue, young lady. Ahem, not much is known about the Gifaws. Upright family. They fought for the country in Safan. Unfortunately, one of the Gifaws was lost in battle and a new heir needed to be picked. The young master has always been the rebellious sort. Before his brother passed, he had independence. The liberty to roam, never worrying about the family lands. I guess he missed that freedom and felt stuck on his estate. And so he followed his valiant sister, whom he admired for the adventure.”

“They picked this man instead of his extremely capable sister?”

“Capable as she is, she is still a woman. First-born males are heirs. A bit different from where you are from, right?” Uoro looked at Marina, who could barely contain her surprised face.

“How?” Marina asked.

Uoro smiled. “Your accent. It slips sometimes.”

"Dammit,” Marina giggled. “And I practiced so hard.”

Uoro looked back at the sparing. “Please don’t hold his family's sins against him. He was but a young boy, uninvolved in the terrors of the war.”

Marina flicked off a flame on her finger. The small flame brightened until her face was illuminated in the light of day. Her face was granite. Her eyes were on the spar but focused on something far away.

“I am not that hungry for vengeance. I know who to direct my appetite upon.”

Uoro watched her from the corner of his eyes.

The flame was extinguished with a wave of her hand and Marina shouted. “Axton, this is a spar. Stop trying to kill the man!”

The man in black paused. “How did you know it was me!?”

Axton leaned back, evading an aura strike. Resting his blade on his shoulder, Axton dropped back with a cheeky smile.

“You waste too much energy flaring your aura so soon into the strike. Wait till the moment of impact, then... BOOM!”

Fergus pivoted and attacked with his right blade. Axton brought his blade down to block. Aura exploded at the blade's edges.

Axton nodded with a smile. “Good.” Axton pulsed and Fergus was pushed, rolling to the floor. “Now remember, I can do it anytime. Stand up and endure.”

“It’s time to talk.”

“Sure,” Drac said dismissively and he sat in a leather chair, surrounded by memories. A tired Hood sat opposite. His scowl turns unpleasant.

“I grow weary of your childish tantrums.” Hood sighed deeply with his head facing the ground. “What is this life… nanny to this boy…” Hood mumbled.

“We are the same fucking age!”

"Wow, I couldn't tell.”

“Come on, ask the questions!” The two personas stare at Axton, crossed-legged on the wooden floor.

“How are you here and-” Drac pointed to the sky, “there?”

“I can multitask. And Fergus is an easy task. Come on, ask! I want to know too.”

Drac turned to Hood. The answers to the questions that itched his mind were right in front of him. Drac became resolute. He needs the answers, no matter how scary they may be.

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“The one downstairs, he is Four, right?”

Drac nodded his head.

“Have you been pretending to be him or trying to become him since we met in Plyton?”

“Before,” Hood answered.

Hood looked away as he saw Drac's reaction. What face could disturb the “assassin”?

“Look, I didn't choose this-”

“So Gove, Maki…”

“They are his people, obviously.”

Those tears did not feel fake.

“Those nights when you told me your story?”

“Testing whether his memories were fully ingrained in me.”

Drac felt a sudden sadness fill him. A vulnerable moment he thought he shared was a facade.

Drac sat back in his chair, trying to process it all. He rubbed his eyes before leaning on his arms on his thighs.

“The morning I met you in the old Plyton compound was a special day for me.”

Drac looked up at Hood, breaking out of the cloud of thoughts. Hood crossed his legs on his large leather chair, reminiscing with a small smile.

“My first kill saved you.”

“What?”

“I got the sneaking down. One of the first things Four learned. But killing was a different matter. Walking among the bloody mess I created, made me want to vomit. But I had to trudge on. Complete the mission. The battle with Cal... I was nearly about to piss my pants. It was then that I became so glad I didn't skip the mandatory lessons.”

The longer Hood talked, Drac’s mouth became slack.

“Hard to believe that I was learning alongside you, huh? Fucking Cal. The bastard was annoying to kill. If only I read more memories, the fight could have ended with me being alive in my-and I mean Four's—body.”

Drac couldn't believe what he was hearing. The hero he idolised, whom he felt jealous of, was just as much a novice as he was. Drac remembered the many days he practised with Hood, learnt under his tutelage.

"You were just making shit up as you went along, weren't you?”

Hood smiled. “I read a bit of Four’s memories, then taught you what I read. It was a very stressful time, as you picked up things faster than I could read. You haven't called me teacher in a while. I am glad. You were a bothersome student.”

“Fuck me…” Drac said, stunned.

“You were that weak?” Asked Axton on the floor.

“Shut up,” Hood told Axton.

Hood leaned on the left armrest of his chair. “Any more questions?”

“Yes. Why did you watch over me for so many weeks? Shouldn’t you have brought me to the capital as soon as possible?”

“Ah…I wasn’t supposed to until Cal entered the picture. I was there to survey. That's all. I made an impromptu decision that I almost regretted. I got a tongue-lashing from father as well.”

Drac rubbed his chin in thought. ”So the meeting of the copies was another lie on my birthday?”

Hood nodded. “You need a purpose for leaving. And I made one on the spot.”

“But Grandpa told me they rescheduled the meeting to be closer. Did grandpa… ,” Axton said on the floor.

“He knew of my change of plans. Father told him of I and Drac’s arrival. And the excuse to use.”

Axton looked down, dejected.

“Rescheduled?” Drac questioned Axton.

"Mm, mm, I was always told I would merge with the other brothers. But when? I never knew. Just that it will happen. Then, all of a sudden, Grandpa comes to me and tells me about the meeting and that I should expect to travel south soon.”

“Why, Hood? Why go to the trouble of doing this?“ asked Drac. His voice was soft, as if about to cry.

“This meeting,” Hood said, “was a temporary excuse to bring you down to the capital safe and out of danger.”

“What was I in danger of?” Drac asked.

“Of becoming like me.”

Drac stood up from his chair and paced around, looking around at the memories read and unopened. He created a copy. Smartly dressed, with an ascot and fitted blue waistcoat. It smiled as it pretended to be working on something. Hood up his hood and mask. His clothes changed. Making him appear like one of the assassins who attacked him before the Imago invasion. Like the assassin in the basement. Hood stalked behind the busy copy. A murus knife formed in his hand and he stabbed the copy in the back, startling the other personas into standing.

“Hood! What the hell?”

Hood pulled the knife and a strange pick was pulled out of his jacket pocket. Little engraved runes glowed on the long point. The copy scrambled on the floor, bloody. Screaming out loud.

“NO! Please! Don’t do it!! ANYBODY!? HELP ME! HEEELP!”

Goosebumps chilled Drac's body as he saw the strange sight.

Hood pulled his mask down and smiled at the nicely dressed copy. Eyes widen with recognition and fear.

“No… Please, you can’t…”

Hood ignored the copy’s pleas and stabbed it in the heart, twisting deeper in. Losing blood, the copy crumpled to the floor, gasping its last breaths.

The corpse transformed into flecks of light. Flowing into Hood.

Hood sighed and stepped back, his clothes transformed back to his regulars.

“That was my last memory before I became Four.”