“... Now what?” Len asked of the other two present.

  The three looked at each other with a bit of confusion. No one seemed to have an immediate answer. For her part, Len was relieved to notice that the wounds she’d sustained during her battle with the now very dead Burton had vanished with him, though she noticed a scar at the place that he’d struck. Probably nothing to worry about.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Lenore with a shrug. “I’ve got no clue how I got here, I’m just kinda going with the flow.”

  “Seriously,” said Cammie, “who IS she?”

  “Cliffnotes: she’s the real Lenore Wraithwhisper, the person that grew up in this world. A couple months ago we swapped minds and/or shared them, don’t ask me how it works. Because I was getting my ass kicked some sort of failsafe brought her here to save the life I’m holding onto for her… I think.”

  “Sounds like as good an explanation as any. Nice to actually hear my own name for once. I mean, Claire Henderson isn’t the worst name out there, but it was driving me nuts not knowing the name that really belonged to me.”

  “Tell me about it,” muttered Len. “Holy shit! My name’s Claire. That’s fantastic… not that I’ll be able to tell anyone. Fuck this is a pain.”

  “No kidding,” said Lenore, who then stumbled back a step. “Uh, I think whatever happened here is about up. I can feel something calling me back. Look, it’s been fun chatting and all, and I wish we had time to figure some of this stuff out, but it doesn’t look like that’s in the cards. Listen, Claire, I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull this off again so try not to need me, okay?”

  “To be fair, I wasn’t trying to need you in the first place,” Len/Claire pointed out. “But I’ll do my best. Try not to get yourself killed over there either. And what’s this about unleashing hell on earth?”

  “Eh, I’m about 28% sure it won’t be a problem,” said Lenore before winking out of existence with her new shadow companion.

  An instant later, Len’s eyes snapped open and she was standing where she’d been before she’d entered the voidspace. She had time to see the dullahan crumbling to dust, leaving nothing of the man who it had once been. She blinked and realized that time was still frozen around them.

  “Uh, Pitch? You wanna…” she gestured vaguely.

  Time resumed and both Balar and Keseryn looked around in confusion. After a moment, they locked their eyes on Len and responded with a collective “How did you-”

  “Long story, don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “Mind if we sit down for a minute, I’m a bit tired.”

  “Are you sure? If we keep going we might make it to the city by nightfall,” said Balar, though he didn’t sound very convinced.

  “Nah, I need this, man.”

  She thought she was sitting down for a brief rest, but instead fell face-first into the snow.

* * * * *

  She awoke to darkness and a fire crackling near her. At her movement, Keseryn darted to her side.

  “You’re awake!” there was a hint of nervous energy to her voice that suggested she’d begun to worry that Len WOULDN’T be waking up. “You’ve been asleep all day.”

  “Really? Damn, sorry about that.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s… complicated,” said Len, wondering how much she should share. “Don’t worry about it for now, I’ve got things under control. Probably. Just needed to get a bit of rest, that’s all.”

  “That is NOT all,” said Kes firmly. “You can’t just pass out like that and expect us to leave it at that.”

  “Keseryn,” said Balar firmly. “Don’t pester her right now. Whatever she’s been through, it’s taken a toll, she’ll give you answers when she’s ready.”

  Len shot him a thankful glance, but his eyes shone with almost as much worry as Kes’. It stood to reason, she supposed. He was putting a lot of faith in her at the moment, and signs of weakness were not the sort of thing that encouraged a man who was committing treason. Still, he was holding his peace, and that was more than she could ask for. She wanted to say more, to reassure Keseryn that things would be alright, but it was getting hard to string thoughts together and she allowed herself to slip back to sleep.

* * * * *

  “Well, this is an interesting development,” said Pitch. His tone was typically smug, but she could sense concern beneath it.

  “By all means,” said Len, “do tell.”

  “Your other self.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean.”

  “When we made our pact, I’d assumed that you were a summoned champion. It’s not   uncommon and tends to provide great power to the summoned. That bond was supposed to make you more useful to me. Now I discover that you’re just the byproduct of someone else’s summoning. That’s quite strange, possibly unprecedented.”

  “So glad to be an interesting case,” Len muttered. “What of it?”

  “Truthfully? I don’t know. Even without the latent advantages that summoned champions tend to get, you’re doing rather well for yourself. Perhaps not as well as you could be doing, but you’re making a decent showing all the same.”

  “Is there a point to all of this, or are you just talking out of your ass like usual?”

  “Oh, dear Namethief, I assure you that every conversation you and I have has a point, just not necessarily one that will mean anything to you.”

  “Quaint, but that’s just a way of saying that you’re talking to amuse yourself. What do you want, Pitch.”

  “To talk about that,” Pitch said, pointing at her chest.

  Len realized that in this place she was still wearing what she’d had on to fight Burton, and the hole in the clothing remained, as did the scar. Without really thinking about it, he reached for the wound. Upon contact, she winced at a flash of pain that dispelled the illusion that her healing was complete.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “For lack of a better word for it,” Pitch began. “What you’re looking at is a scar on your very soul. It won’t heal, and over time it will get worse. I told you there were risks involved with challenging my kind the way you did. Instead of enhancing my power with theirs, you gained a lesser ally and a wound that will destroy you eventually.”

  “Great, how long do I have?”

  “Impossible to say. It could be years, it could be a dozen lifetimes. The soul is a strange thing, not meant to be dealt with directly and yet you’ve allowed one of my kind to mark you there. Had it lasted much longer, you might have been destroyed outright. Without the action of my new junior, there would’ve been no hope left for you.”

  “Geez,” said Cammie, appearing before them. “Don’t make it sound like I was doing it for her sake. My dear brother betrayed me and I punished him for it, that’s really all there is.”

  “Heh,” said Len. “Thanks for that, I suppose.”

  “Don’t mention it,” said Cammie. “Ever again. This is done, got it.”

  “Fair, fair,” said Len, throwing her hands up in surrender. “So what now? You guys want to give me some answers about what this game I’ve been signed up for is all about?”

  “There’s not much to elaborate on that you haven’t already gleaned,” Pitch replied. “My kind doesn’t really exist.”

  “But… you’re here right now, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You can think of us as figments of your imagination. We don’t exist outside of our relations to mortals. Prior to coming into contact with you, I had no real form or, for lack of a better term, personhood.”

  “Okay… then what’s with this game you’re playing.”

  “Just because we don’t really exist doesn’t mean that we weren’t created. The space you first met me, the space that you gained your new pet, those were created by a force older than the cosmos, than reality itself. When one of yours interacts with it, a piece breaks off and this is what you get.”

  “The hell? You mean you’re just some sort of reflection based on the mortal that happens to come across you?”

  “More or less. It’s more complicated than that, but that’s a good enough explanation. Anyway, the whole point of all this is to create a perfect form. A being made from the initial whole that can absorb it into itself and be one again.”

  “That’s a bit mental, don’t you think. How could that even happen if more of you are created any time some mortal happens to say the right words and come across one of you?”

  “No idea. It’s not something we’re privy to. We just have to live as best we can.”

  “What’s with you, anyway? You seem… different.”

  “Well, your little stunt with… Cammie here has changed things a bit. My original goal was to 'win' by consuming all in my path. By claiming her, that goal is sealed away for me. Now, my only option is to let you build an army of shades with me at its head. That quest is a more complicated and, frankly, more doomed one. As a result of your choice, my personality has shifted. It’s not ideal, but I’m getting over it.”

  “Wait, she said something about being overwritten. Did I do that to you?”

  “Not exactly. More like, you wrote more onto me. Because of what you did, I don’t GET to just be me anymore.”

  “Holy crap! I’m… I’m actually sorry. You were a real pain in the ass, but you didn’t deserve that.”

  “Eh, too late to worry about that, and don’t think that I’m done screwing with you. I just have bigger things on my plate right now. It’ll take a while for the new ‘me’ to figure things out, so I’ll probably be missing for a bit. Fortunately, you’ve got a new follower to experience the joys of existence with. I’m sure ‘Cammie’ will be an absolute delight, what with those murderous impulses of hers and all.”

  “Well, at least your sarcasm is still intact,” Len muttered. “So, is there anything that can be done about this scar?”

  “Not that I know of. Still, the world is vast. You never know what you might come across with enough time and effort. Were I you, I’d make it a priority.”

  “Great, I’ll add it to the list.”

  “Do that. Anyway, I’m off.” So saying, the shade vanished.

  “What now?” Len asked Cammie.

  “How am I supposed to know. You’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t you?”

  “Wanna try that again, creature whose very existence is locked to mine and had better be damned grateful that I didn’t turn them into something more useful, like a broom?”

  “Yeesh, fine. You’re doing a wonderful job, boss. Truly, top notch at this whole creation game. Couldn’t be doing better myself.”

  “Damn right,” Len said, maintaining the grim facade for a moment longer before cracking a smile. “Well, my life didn’t really need to BE any more interesting, but you guys sure are a new wrinkle.”

  “Hrm,” the girl replied noncommittally.

  “You gonna be okay with the fact that the guy you saw as a brother for an indeterminate amount of time has been cast off into another dimension, likely never to be seen again?"

  “Hrm? Oh, that guy? Already forgotten. Perks of being an amorphous being that doesn’t really exist. We spent a lot of time together, sure, but we’d have had to turn on each other eventually. It’s just the way things go.”

  “But… you’re now working with a different shade. Are you saying that you still expect to have to fight it one day?”

  “Nah. I lost the game already. I’m more a part of you than of it, and I can tell you don’t care at all about winning it. At most you’ll keep fighting when necessary and eventually die, at which point we’ll all be dispersed. It sucks, but what can ya do?”

  “That’s a dark view of things.”

  “Only view I’ve got.